THE TWENTY-FIRST pt5

“It’s getting late, Abs. Let’s go home,” Taylor suggests. I take his hand and let him help me into my coat. As we step out into the cold, Taylor leans forward and brushes his lips against my ear and whispers, “I know,” before planting a gentle kiss on my cheek. My thoughts swirl and I can’t help but feel that he meant more than he said. I tuck my arm through his, enjoying the comfort of his warmth, as we slowly walk back to the flat, the silence a contrast to the echoes of our footsteps on the cobbles.

I am in the middle of struggling out of my coat, my frozen fingers refusing to cooperate with the buttons when I hear music coming from the living room. Curiosity spurs me on, making my fingers more nimble, and moments later I walk into the room to find Taylor standing in the centre, looking oddly formal. “Dance with me, Abby?” Taylor requests, holding out his hand. I walk across the room and let him envelop me in his strong arms. We move in a slow tandem as our bodies sway to Christi