Romance Me

Taming the Beast - Part Four

"He... loves me."

Suddenly, a bitter laugh - coming from the same direction of the words - broke into the air, and Derin soon discovered another flower above his head, this one fully plucked to the stem.

"Like hell he loves me. He would no sooner touch a moldy frog then find one inkling of me to like! Why am I doing this? It's stupid..." a groan of frustration sounded, followed by: "where is another flower?"

"Would you like mine?"

No sooner had the words left Derin's mouth than a frightened squeak echoed throughout the park. Moments passed in agonizing silence as the man cursed himself for speaking aloud, then, slowly, the girl's voice quavered through the tree.

"Who are you?"

Derin hesitated. "A... human."

"A man?"

He coughed. "Y-yes, I am a man."

"...may I have that flower?"

Derin stared at the half-plucked plant in his hand, his stomach suddenly twisting at the thought of giving such a pitiful object to this female on the other side of the tree. With the silent swiftness of a cougar, he pushed himself from his seat, plucked up a random wild flower from the grass and  - just as quietly - climbed back into his spot.

"...or if you want to keep it, that's okay too--"

The voice, which had begun to protest sweetly at his silence, stopped. Derin held his breath as the pause lengthened, yet he kept his arm (which had weaved its way through to the other side) perfectly still, the fingers of his hand gently clasping the stem of his gift.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the warmth of her fingers brushed against his arm, their soft, delicate movements separating his grasp from the flower in almost ritual-like grace. His heart pounded as the stem left his palm, and with a final brush of tenderness, she withdrew.

"Thank you."

Derin gulped, resisting the urge to jump to her side, to peek through the branches, to shout to the heavens and express the thrilling sensation running through his veins.

"No problem."

Good nonchalance! You always knew you were a lady's man, Derin!

"So..." he continued, "who is this 'he loves me' about?"

"Oh! I, um, just a... person in my life. Well, he's in my dance life, I guess you could say."

At the word 'dance,' Derin almost fell out of his perch. Attempting to remind his body how to breathe again, he forced himself to lean against the bark, relaxing his muscles into the sturdy wood.

"Dance? That's cool, I dance too. How long have you been doing it?"

The voice softened into one of reminisce, its musical cadence playing havoc to his chest.

"I've danced since I was a baby, since my father turned on the music in our living room and said, 'let your heart out!'. It was the most freeing experience, and soon I wanted to learn everything. Ballroom, tap, jazz, ballet, modern - of course, now I don't know if I can..."

The endearing tone was overtaken, the smooth turning wobbly as a shaky breath inhaled the air. Derin's heart sank a fraction at the sound while his mind reared in alarm.

"Does that mean you've injured yourself beyond recovery?" he questioned.

"Oh, no! Nothing like that, I assure you," she replied, immediately giving him relief. "I just, things haven't... well, nevermind. What about you? How long have you danced?"