Melody can barely take her eyes off him as he speaks, feeling his fingers carefully removing the pins out of her hair. She feels the weight of her curls slip forward, hanging more naturally, a little more voluminous from being help up all day. He’s saying all the right things, reassuring that small voice in her that isn’t used to taking risks, that isn’t known for spontaneity.

She’s all planning and diaries and always on time. She isn’t this. But maybe, tonight, she can be. Maybe that’s what she needs. For so long she’s lived her life by some kind of rules, when she was the only one who had made those rules in the first place. Maybe tonight, those rules would be broken.

“What about you?” she then asks softly, her voice having dropped to a low note, encouraged by their proximity and the way he holds her. “What do you want?”