Page 100 of Second Dance
“To me, you are royalty. You’re my queen.” He took my hand and led me toward the steps, his skin warm against mine.
The interior was impossibly luxurious—cream leather seats, soft lighting, champagne waiting in a silver bucket. I sank into the seat across from him, heart fluttering even more than usual when I was with Alex.
“You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?” I asked again.
He lifted his glass in a silent toast. “You’ll see soon enough.”
Hours later, the Manhattan skyline appeared through the cabin window, glittering against the twilight. My chest tightened with recognition at the jagged beauty of it, the energetic pulse that waited to draw us into the magical city.
When we landed, a limo waited at the foot of the stairs. Alex helped me inside, and as the city came alive around us—the hum of traffic, neon lights bleeding into the dusk, the sharp scent of hot asphalt and pretzels—I felt fourteen years collapse into nothing. This was the city where I'd learned what it meant to be in love, where every street corner had held possibility, where I'd danced until my feet ached and kissed Alex until dawn broke over the East River.
But I wasn't that girl anymore, navigating the subway with sore muscles after eight-hour rehearsals, splitting teriyaki dinners with Alex. Now I watched it rush past tinted windows, seated beside a billionaire, wearing a dress that cost more than my monthly rent back in the day. Yet when Alex's hand found mine, some part of that nineteen-year-old girl flickered back to life. When I’d had my whole life ahead of me, without any knowledge of what was waiting for me at the end of that summer. When all my dreams still seemed possible.
“New York,” I whispered, turning toward him. “It’s been a long time.”
He smiled softly, eyes meeting mine. “I thought we could revisit the summer we fell in love.”
The first stop was a tiny coffee shop on 83rd, where we’d first laid eyes on each other. It was still tucked between a bookstore and a dry cleaner, just as it had been fourteen years ago. As we stepped inside, the strong scent of dark brew permeated the space. For a moment, time folded into itself, pulling me back to the past. The same scuffed floorboards. The same chalkboard menu. Memories of that day flooded back to me. I’d been sitting in the corner by the window, nursing a black coffee and waiting for a friend, when I’d felt eyes upon me. When I looked up, it was Alex’s handsome face that I saw. He’d been bold even back then, inviting himself to sit with me. I’d said yes, obviously. And we’d spent the next several hours talking nonstop.
“This place hasn’t changed a bit.” I brushed my fingers over the back of a rickety looking chair.
“We’ve grown up, but our coffee shop’s the same.”
I ordered a coffee and he ordered a double cappuccino, just as we had all those years ago.
“Do you remember where we sat?” I asked.
He nodded, pointing to the corner where he’d found me huddled over my coffee thinking my friend wasn’t going to show.
I could still see us back then, sitting across from each other, our knees touching, innocent and hopeful, as we opened up about our lives. Back then, he'd been this lanky MIT nerd, all sharp cheekbones and puppy dog energy, his laptop covered in stickers, his mind already building a future where little sisters didn’t leave the world too soon. I'd been the girl in pink tights and a threadbare wrap cardigan, hair slicked into a bun, my feet taped and blistered, chasing perfection in every pirouette,certain the stage was the only place I'd ever belong. If we’d only known then what we knew now.
Yet, in this moment, the years we’d spent apart seemed like only a blip. We were here again. Older, wiser, maybe a little bruised, but still willing to risk our hearts for one simple reason. We were meant to be together.
When we finished our drinks, Alex took my hand and led me back out into the warm summer evening. The air carried that unmistakable scent of the city—pretzels, car exhaust, and rain on pavement. The music of Manhattan. A distant wail of a saxophone, the shuffle of footsteps, the low hum of voices that were a constant.
We walked a few blocks before I realized where he was taking me.
I stopped short at the corner. “Oh my gosh, it’s still here.” I stared up at the old sign with the flickering neon letters—Happy Teriyaki.
He grinned, eyes sparkling. “It smells the same too.”
The place seemed smaller, like most things you revisit from youth, but alive with the same energy. Steam curled from the open door, the scents of sesame and soy wafting into the street. We’d stood right there, next to the cracked flower pot, when he’d kissed me for the first time. There had been a saxophone playing that night too, musical notes piercing through the noise of the street. An unexpected rain shower had started while we were inside sharing our dinner, so we huddled under the awning. He’d turned to me, his eyes asking the question. Can I kiss you? I didn’t hesitate. I stood on my sore toes and met his mouth ina kiss that had embedded into my soul. From that moment, I’d been his.
“Do you remember? This is where we first kissed,” I said.
He stepped closer, the city’s glow catching in his dark hair. “It was a moment impossible to forget.”
My heart fluttered, ridiculous and girlish. “I thought I might faint right there in your arms.”
“I couldn’t believe my luck. The most beautiful girl in New York was kissing me back.”
“It was romantic. So romantic.” I sighed, the memory playing before my eyes. “Remember the rain? And the saxophone?”
“I remember the rain but not the music, but I was too infatuated with you to notice much else.” He laughed, that deep, warm sound that always managed to make me feel loved. “We still have some romantic moments left between us. Don’t you worry.”
Before I could reply, he cupped my face in both hands and kissed me, and I was nineteen again, dizzy and hopeful, falling in love with the sweetest boy I’d ever met.
We left the teriyaki place and walked toward Central Park, the way we used to fourteen summers ago. The air was thick with July heat, carrying the scent of roasted nuts, hot pretzels, and sun-warmed grass. The city pulsed around us, alive in every direction—street musicians, laughter from rooftop bars, taxis weaving through the golden dusk.
