Alfie was relieved to hear it was okay. He wanted to make sure he wasn't being sloppy or awkward, which he probably was (at least the awkward part). "Good," he said, leaving his hand on her shoulder. "And you're really good." Some really weird part of his brain was trying to help him out, guide him. Be like the wind, Alfie, it said to him, slow and smooth. What in the fuck did that mean? Well, whatever, he was going to try it.
Slowly, like his mental muse instructed, he moved forward again, tilting his head slightly to the side before he kissed her again. He remembered the first moment he saw her on the night of the Valentine's Day dance, coming down the stairs in her perfect outfit. That had been almost a month ago, and Alfie still couldn't get it out of his head. He moved closer to her, slipping his other arm around her waist in case she leaned back too much and fell on the floor. It was carpet, but it would probably still hurt.