Sam

It hits me like a ton of bricks. One minute, I’m rubbing Boone’s gray muzzle, wondering where the years went, and the next—

“I know where I know you from.”

Sarah blinks. “Oh?” Her forehead crinkles. “Not anywhere bad, I hope?”

“No. I mean, yeah—but nothing you did.”

She sits up straighter. “This I’ve got to hear.”

“Wow. It’s—this is pretty out there. Where to start?” I reach into my pocket, and pull out a Milk Bone. Boone lets me balance it on his snout, and waits till I give him the thumbs-up, before he flips it into the air and catches it in his mouth. I scritch at his chest. “Let’s see—it was three days before Christmas, two years ago. You probably don’t remember, but you gave me a pack of Kleenex in front of a huge wall of jellyfish.”

“What?”

“OK—let me start at the beginning. I was having the worst day, just...unbelievably bad. It was….” I pinch the bridge of my nose. This isn’t the best memory.

“Right from the get-go, nothing went right. I ripped my sleeve on a door handle. Only had enough butter for half a slice of toast. And then, I checked the traffic report, and the guy was like...don’t even bother. So I ended up getting on the bus with Boone. And...when we got off at the dog park, some ass on a bike mowed him down.”

“Shit! Sorry—that’s awful!”

“Yeah.” I slip Boone another treat. He offers a paw to shake. “Poor little guy—he had a broken leg, and I had no idea what else might be wrong. I was holding him, trying to flag down a cab, but, well, you can imagine how thrilled the average cabbie is at the thought of a bloody, crying dog in his back seat.”

“Like the backs of cabs don’t see worse.”

“Right? So, I finally snag a ride, and he drives me halfway across town, pretending he only knows this one vet—and I don’t even care about the money; I just need to get there, already!”

Boone puts his chin on my knee. He hates when I get upset. I scratch behind his ears: it’s cool, buddy. I’m cool.

“Anyway, the vet’s very nice, very reassuring—Boone’s going to be fine, but I’ve got a few hours to kill while he’s in surgery. I don’t want to go home, so I see the aquarium’s nearby, and think, why not?”

“Oh, yeah!” I can practically see the lightbulb blink on over Sarah’s head. “I do remember that day! You’re the guy who spilled coffee down his front, in front of the jellyfish tank!”

“The lid came off!”

“Hate that so much.”

“Worst possible timing for it, too. I mean, there I was thinking, yeah; this is good—check me out, holding it together!—and, whoosh. Coffee geyser.” I pat her hand. “Then, you were there, holding out a pack of tissues, saying—”

“—Happens to me, all the time!”

“Exactly! And then you just smiled, and walked off. Any other day, I’d have tried for your number, but….”

“Bigger things on your mind.”

“And now, you show up at my cabin, the first night I’ve spent here in months, and even remember me!” I reach for her hand again, and this time I squeeze. “I’ve never believe in fate, but this is...quite a coincidence.”

Sarah turns her hand over and clasps mine. “A good coincidence, though. Not one of those awkward ones, where you cut someone off in traffic, and later, they’re doing your job interview.”

“Oh, hate those ones.” The moment seems right, and I’m just working up the nerve to kiss her, when another peal of thunder rolls practically overhead this time. The lights sputter and die. I hear Boone scramble behind the couch.

“Guess we can’t Netflix and chill,” she says, a little shakily.

I think I might be blushing. Good thing it’s dark. “That’s...not what that means.”

“Oh, yeah?” Now, there’s a teasing note to her voice.

“You knew that.”

“I knew that.”

“Let me—uh, let me grab us some candles.”

I am absolutely not nervous. In no way am I stalling for time, while I collect my composure. And...and, if she’s serious about getting frisky, I’d like to be able to see her.

Fortunately, the fire hasn’t died out, and I don’t break my neck rounding us up an assortment of tapers and candleholders. On a hunch, I check on my cell phone, as well: no bars, as expected, but it powers on fine. Inspired, I slip it into my pocket.

While Sarah arranges the candles around the living room, I scroll through the music on my phone. It doesn’t take long to find what I’m looking for, and when she turns around, I hold out my hand. “Want to dance?” The music kicks in—Por una Cabeza—a little tinny over the phone speaker.

“A tango? Wouldn’t say no.” She takes my hand, and I spin her experimentally. She follows my lead with grace. I pull her close, and her cheek grazes mine. I whirl her away, and she arches her back just so. I dip her, and she bends like a willow bough.

She glides through the steps like she was born to them. Pretty soon, I’m not sure whether I’m guiding her, or she’s kindly letting me think I am. Her feet hardly seem to touch the floor. I quit worrying about stepping on her toes: she’ll never let me.

“You’re amazing at this.” We’re so close, our lips almost brush.

She twirls away. “It’s in the blood.”

“Oh?” There’s not an inch between us. I can feel her heart racing.

“My parents live for ballroom dancing. Still compete as a couple. Might’ve picked up a few tricks....” She hooks her leg around my waist, and leans way back. When I pull her back up, she’s flushed and breathless. Her hair’s all tousled around her face.

The music picks up. Her hand cups my cheek. For a moment, I’m sure she’s going to kiss me. But her fingers trail away like a caress, and suddenly we’re back to back. The music’s still playing, but instead of spinning her back out, I turn around and run my hands down her sides. They come to rest at her waist.

She turns around slowly. Her hands find their way to my shoulders. Her eyes shine in the candlelight. Neither of us moves. The music gallops off without us. I barely notice. Sarah has my full attention, especially when her hand finally moves. Her fingers spread out across my chest. I feel her nails, just a little, digging in through my shirt. She has an interesting manicure: red tips, instead of the standard white. Didn’t notice that before—but now, I can’t look anywhere else. An image of vicious little claws raking down my back fills my mind, and my breath catches in my throat.

That’s when she kisses me. Or I kiss her. She presses her whole body against mine. The buttons on her dress are big and square and sharp. I’m not sure whether she has kind of a dangerous edge, or it’s all in my head.

Please don’t be all in my head!

She nips my lower lip. The sting is all I need: I growl low in my throat, and hoist her into my arms. For a second, I wonder if it’d be entirely inappropriate to throw her on the couch—then, her whisper tickles my ear: do it. It’s almost a moan. And for the first time since I arrived, I’m here. In the moment.

No second thoughts.

I do it.