Beat of Norteñas

 As Norrisika and I dance to the rhythm and beat of Norteñas. We had fallen even more as our hearts danced. Love and laughter filled the night, and a soothing gaze followed after. His hand rested firmly at the small of my back, guiding my steps with a silent, confident pressure. The accordion swelled, filling the air with a brassy warmth that smelled faintly of pine and the cold night. I didn't need to look at his face to know he was smiling; I felt the movement in the tension of his shoulder, a perfect mirror to the joy rising in my own chest.  The song finally drew to a slow, melodic close, leaving a collective sigh in the room. We remained exactly where we were for a beat too long, chests still rising and falling in time. When Norrisika finally pulled away, she didn't step far, just enough to tilt her head back and meet my eyes—a look that held all the promise of the night. The music might have stopped, but the rhythm of our own hearts continued, loud and clear, carrying us off the dance floor and into the quiet that lay ahead. The long quiet began to deafen, a stark contrast to the thumping heart of the Norteñas. The hall was suddenly too bright, too loud with other people’s laughter. We slipped through the crowd, an island of stillness in a sea of motion, finding the cool, clear night air outside. The pine scent was stronger here, mixed now with the hint of her perfume. Norrisika linked her arm through mine, her steps falling easily into sync with my own. We didn't speak. There was no need for words; the shared silence felt like a continuation of the dance, a promise spoken without a sound, and the only path we needed to follow. The hall was suddenly too bright, too loud with other people’s laughter. We slipped through the crowd, an island of stillness in a sea of motion, finding the cool, clear night air outside. The pine scent was stronger here, mixed now with the hint of her perfume. Norrisika linked her arm through mine, her steps falling easily into sync with my own. We didn't speak. There was no need for words; the shared silence felt like a continuation of the dance, a promise spoken without a sound, and the only path we needed to follow.

The soft click of the car door was loud in the night. Inside, the world shrank to the two of us. I pulled away from the curb slowly, the sound of the engine a low, comforting hum that finally broke the silence's intensity. Norrisika reached over, her hand finding mine on the center console. In that simple touch, the laughter and music of the night felt worlds away, replaced by the quiet, undeniable beat of a different kind of song.

"That was a good beat to lose ourselves in," I finally said, the words feeling almost too loud after the silence. Norrisika squeezed my hand. "It felt like a rehearsal," she murmured, leaning her head against the window. "A rehearsal for the rest of our lives." The thought hung in the air, warm and heavy with promise, and I found myself smiling into the dark as I drove toward the quiet comfort of home. I parked the car and killed the engine, letting the sudden, absolute silence of the driveway envelop us. She didn't move immediately; the rehearsal was clearly not over. Instead, she turned to me, the faint glow of the dash lights catching the intensity in her eyes. She slowly lifted her hand from the console and cupped the side of my face, her thumb tracing the line of my jaw—a silent invitation that needed no Norteñas beat to be understood.

I leaned into the warmth of her hand, but as I did, my eyes caught the small, glowing text message icon on her phone resting in the cup holder. A sudden, sharp anxiety sliced through the calm. "Who is that?" I asked, the question coming out colder than I intended. Her hand dropped instantly. "Does it matter right now?" she replied, her voice losing its softness, a defensive edge creeping in. The quiet comfort of home was suddenly a vast, freezing distance away.