Re: Gwen & Harry
It was just an urban legend that sound rose. In fact, sound traveled at precisely the same speed in all directions. But standing up there, it felt like sound rose, and she didn't hear him approaching. She was too wrapped up in the bass, which was all she could actually make out from the song that was playing below. And, maybe, she was too busy looking for him in the crowd. Up here, from a distance, it would have been safe to be that silly girl that stared all night. With him close, it wasn't that safe, and she had just enough champagne in her that she might stare without care for distance. And the last thing she wanted was to make things weird before she left the state. She'd already weirded him out enough to last a lifetime.
"Hey," she said finally, after turning and looking at him just a little too long to be not-weird. "You look handsome, Mr. Osborn," she said, falling back on the teasing tone that she always fell back on when she wasn't sure if it was socially okay to be serious.
A second later, she looked down at the woolen coat, and her fingers slid along its length. The smile she gave him was a duck of head, and a fan of blonde hair against her cheek. It was shy, embarrassed, the kind of look that came with uncertainty and not feeling comfortable in her own skin just then. "My dress is stupid," she admitted with a roll of cornflower blue eyes. "That's my scientific assessment of the situation."
She took a step forward, as if she was going to close the distance between them, but she didn't want him thinking that was weird, and she turned to lean on the railing again instead. "I was just looking at everyone and trying to figure out where they would be in four years," she said, looking down at the dance floor, then over at him. "You can come closer. I promise I won't be strange or anything."