Music From Both Sides of the Glass

This is an old piece, but it was a fun one to write. The challenge was to write a scene between two people, first from one side, then from the other, without making them identical. Here's the result. A little more risque than some of my writing, but still safe for work.

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Bryan's Version

It was my last night in the 'States. I knew that I probably wasn't going to see her again after we left. She may have been best friend to the new girl, but she'd told me herself that there was no chance at all of her leaving her home. I had no intention of leaving mine. Franci had dragged us all on her big show tour, but I was done with it. The 'States weren't anything special, and besides that, the food tasted funny. And yet I there I was, standing in front of her house and ready to walk through the door with a bouquet of roses. The door was unlocked, of course. We'd been staying there a week already, but tomorrow morning would see us on a plane across the Atlantic. No time for fun and games when you're puddle-jumping. Or so they'd have you believe.


When I got to her bedroom, I caught myself thinking again. Bad habit, if you ask me. I had a thought- another bad habit. What if she wasn't the suit-and-tie type? What if a dozen roses were too much? I mean, we were leaving tomorrow. No time for romance, right? I put the roses out of sight. Deal with 'em later, I told myself. What she doesn't know won't freak her out. She answered my knock quick enough. Wasn't like she was waiting for me or anything. She looked surprised to see me, actually. I couldn't not smile when I saw her. She looked comfy in a pair of old jeans and a sleeveless top. Not good enough.

“Yeah?”

“Put on yer best dancin' dress, Sophia. Somethin' sexy an' Latin. Git yer heels and meet me downstairs.”

I remembered to bow before I left, and when the door closed I could see she was smiling. Ten points for me. I saw the roses again and had an idea. Those seemed to happen a lot with her around. I grabbed the flowers and started ripping the petals off and scattering them on the floor. All the way to the stairs and down 'em into the kitchen. I ran out of flower at the back corner of the house, but since the back door was open, and the alley was in plain sight, I didn't think it'd matter much anyway.

I got rid of the stems and junk, looked up right on time to see Sophia coming 'round the corner in sexy black heels and the kind of dress that makes supermodels jealous. If I hadn't been ready for this kinda thing, I'd've probably grabbed her right then and never let her go.

“Glad ye c'd join me.” I knew I was grinnin' like a fool, but I didn't care. “Now, what was yer specialty again? Oh, right.” I hit play on the stereo beside me and pulled her close as the music warmed up. A slow tango. I knew she was good at Latin. I knew she loved it. And I knew, seein' her eyes follow my hips, that she liked my Latin, too. Maybe “liked” was too tame a word. Latin's a little wild. She still wasn't saying anything, so I kicked it up a notch.

“I already out-stepped ye in ev'rthin' else. Let's see if ye can best me tonight, eh?” The moon was just right. I could feel her heart beat speed up before we'd even gotten to the good part. I was ready for just about anythin' she could throw at me. Almost anythin' except what she did. She kissed me. Guess we both sorta gave in after that. The night and the dance and the girl... it was all a bit too perfect not to, see? An' after a night like that, I shoulda known that I wouldn't be able to leave. Not really.

* * *

Sophie's Version

A whole week. A whole stinking week, and she still hadn't found a dance she could best him at. Sophie paced her room, chewing a stick of gum a bit more violently than she needed to. She wasn't angry, per se, but... but that darned Irishman was so irritating! Everything was a challenge, everything was a competition! What was worse, he was nearly as good as he wanted everyone to believe he was. He could dance, he could sing, he could play just about any instrument you handed him- but he couldn't cook worth beans. Sophie smiled in grim triumph. She could out-do him in that, at least. But one would think, being the Latin ballroom expert, she'd be able to out-dance him at least in her own specialty. But she'd never seen Latin hips like his. They were... Sophie sidetracked herself hastily, feeling heat in the pit of her stomach like she did every time they danced together. Goodness, just thinking about the way he danced was enough to get her hot.

It was horrible! He was horrible! Sophie spat her gum out and scowled. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to kiss him or shoot him. Maybe both. In that order. With a heavy sigh, she sat down on the end of her bed. At least she could take comfort in the fact that he and the rest of his troupe were leaving tomorrow. Leaving for Ireland, where they belonged. Leaving, and probably never coming back. Her head dropped into her hands and she squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn't even sure she could be relieved about that. She wasn't sure she wanted him to leave.

It doesn't matter, Sophie told herself, as firmly as she could manage. It doesn't matter one bit. How I feel about it doesn't change anything. He's leaving, and that's that. With any luck, he'd have the good sense not to make this harder than it needed to be. As though her thoughts had summoned him, she heard someone knock on her door. It wasn't either of her parents- they were still out of town. Visiting friends and pretending to have a third honeymoon. Bri never knocked anymore. Therefore...

Sophie opened the door and there he was. Not only was he there, but he was wearing a suit. Not a tux, thank her lucky stars (she wasn't sure she would be able to contain herself if he had; she was a sucker for men in formals). But it was a suit, complete with a black tie and a blazer that was left open to show off a clean white shirt and shiny brass tie-tack in the shape of a clover. She caught herself looking at his shiny dancing shoes (not his taps, thank God) and forced her gaze upward, over his neatly pressed slacks, narrow waist, black tie with its shiny tack, smooth collar and came to rest on his devilish grin. And she knew right then what he had in mind. Another challenge, dang him. And dang it all if she wasn't going to accept it.

“Yeah?” Sophie tried to sound as collected as possible, but it was hard to keep her eyes from betraying her. The suit was simply too much. At least he hadn't showed up with a dozen roses.

“Put on yer best dancin' dress, Sophia. Somethin' sexy an' Latin. Git yer heels and meet me downstairs.” Bryan bowed to her (he bowed to her!) and turned away. The woman shut her door quickly, knowing she was giving herself away with her haste. Her knees felt all wobbly and her face felt hot. Her face wasn't the only thing that felt hot, either. She couldn't have thought about his offer longer than half a second before she bolted across to her closet and dug out the dress her parents didn't know existed. Her father would have called it “skimpy” and a number of other, less polite things. Her mother would have looked disapproving and muttered something about “kids these days.” But Sophie didn't care about what her parents would have thought. They weren't here. No one was, actually. That thought stopped her for just a moment while she slipped into her heels. Bri and Lian had escaped for some peace and quiet at her aunt's house, John was with Connor at the hospital with Franci... and the house was empty except for her and Bryan.

That doesn't matter, she told herself, but it wasn't any more convincing this time than it had been last time. It just means we can play the music a little louder...

She opened the door and heaven knew her heart turned a flip and skipped a beat. Rose petals. A trail of rose petals led down the stairs and out the back door. She followed them, trying not to smile too much. He was waiting for her in the alley beside the house. The moon was nearly full, turning the dingy brick walls into the perfect silver-grey backdrop for her suit-and-tie fella. Bryan was smiling his devil's smile as she came, trying to make her pace dignified and graceful.

“Glad ye c'd join me.” He was shifting his weight a little- not enough for her to detect a beat or style, but he was definitely warmed up and ready for whatever he had planned. Sophie suffered a stab of righteous indignation. This was hardly fair. After all, he was all limbered up and she had no idea what they were doing. But he wasn't done. “Now, what was yer specialty again? Oh, right.” He reached out with his foot and tapped a stereo she hadn't noticed before. Music swelled to fill the alley and she heard the steady beat in the undertone that made her hips sway without her permission. Tango. Oh good gravy, why did he have to pick a tango? Sophie's resolve to best him was deflected and she bit her lip, watching him saunter closer with a tortuously slow swagger.

“I already out-stepped ye in ev'rthin' else. Let's see if ye can best me tonight, eh?”

She tried to stay focused, truly she did. Sophie's determination lasted until he had drawn her tight against his body, and then the world seemed to dissolve. There was dancing, and there was music. Sophie was dimly aware of those elements, preoccupied with the feeling of his body against hers, his strong arms around her, the movement between them, how few layers of pathetic cloth separated the two of them. As he dipped her toward the ground, supple and strong, she kissed him. That was the last thing she remembered actually deciding to do. The rest was all instinct.