"Okay, I'm all yours now birthday boy," I smiled, dropping into the seat next to John and accepting the fruity drink he handed me, taking a slow sip. "Dance with me before they steal me away again," I grinned, holding my hand out to him.

"I can certainly do that," he drawled, taking my hand and letting me lead him onto the dance floor. The song playing now was upbeat and fun. Everyone was enjoying themselves: drinking, laughing, and dancing. Maisy and Darryl were in the thick of it all and the smile on Maisy's face was the smile of a very, very happy bride. My heart was so filled with love for that girl.

When we found a spot on the floor I wrapped my arms around John's neck and let the music do the rest, pressing my body close against his, enjoying the way his warm breath felt against my neck.

I quickly found out that he wasn't just good at slow dancing; he could dance to these kinds of tunes too. "Is there anythin' you can't do?" I asked him playfully.

"Mm, not really," he smirked, twirling me around rather impressively.

I collided with his chest and laughed as he started pressing kisses to my neck, his hips rocking against mine. I dipped my head back, giving him easier access. He was being awfully affectionate tonight and I wasn't complaining one bit.

After a selection of upbeat songs, a slow one came along and the floor started emptying out rather substantially. The groom and his new wife remained, as did about two dozen couples. I wrapped my arms around John's neck again and let my head fall onto his chest. He held me close.

"Are you glad you agreed to come?" I asked him, glancing up to meet his gaze.

"I am," he grinned.

"Good," I smiled, kissing him gently. "Happy birthday," I added.

"Thank you," he smiled back.

He spun me around again, catching me and reeling me in, our noses almost touching. This felt good... this felt normal... I could definitely get used to this.

The song changed again to the kind of music you'd find in nightclubs - dubstep or electronica or whatever it's called. Anyway, it wasn't my thing and it sure wasn't John's either, so he offered to get me another drink, leading me towards the bar.

When I had my wine cooler and he had himself another beer, we went and grabbed a seat at a nearby table.

"This whole 'I-hate-my-birthday' thing; how's that goin' for ya anyway?" I asked.

"There might be hope for August 29th yet," he chuckled, reaching for my hand and running his thumb over my knuckles. I twisted my hand around so that I could intertwine my fingers with his, squeezing gently.

"I could really get used to this," he said, his voice so low I barely caught his words over the music. He was looking at me again with that fierce intensity. "It's scarin' the shit outta me," he chuckled.

"I know how you feel," I told him.

Two weeks; that's all it took for me to start falling, and I was afraid of what I'd find at the bottom, or if he'd even be there to meet me. This was new territory for me, something I'd never experienced before.

"One day at a time," he shrugged.

"Yeah, one day at a time," I agreed.

When he took a swig of his beer, I did the same with my drink. Our fingers were still intertwined between us and as I set my drink back down I gave him a playful smile.

"Do you wanna dance again?" I asked him.

He didn't get to answer.

The smile on my face faltered suddenly, catching words from the table next to ours that made my blood go ice cold.

"Have you seen the Atwood girl?" a plump woman whispered.

At the sound of my name, I started listening to these complete strangers; I was certain they weren't aware that I was sitting just a couple feet away with my back to them. "The way she was dancin' with that man," she tooted, unimpressed.

I gave them a sideways glance, my lips pressed together and my heart racing fast. I was dying to give them a piece of my mind, but I was too timid to do so.

"She's practically still a teenager," another woman scoffed, leaning forward and nursing her drink, eager to get in on the gossip. "Imagine what her poor parents would say if they knew... God bless their souls..."

"She's not the one to blame. He is. He should have more sense," a third woman said in a hushed whisper that wasn't a whisper at all. "Datin' girls so young... It's disgustin'! There's a place for those kinds of men..."

I looked at John, watching him tense up.

He was gripping his beer so tight that his knuckle was white. He could hear the women talking too and the look on his face made me sick to my stomach. He looked guilty, like he was doing something wrong by being with me. I felt a sudden onslaught of tears threatening to overflow, not because of the words that were being said, but because I was too scared to defend myself and my feelings for this man. It was none of their business anyway!

Silently, almost guiltily, I put my hand over his. He snatched it away before I could say anything.

"I'm gonna go," he murmured, pushing his chair back with a little too much energy so that it wobbled threateningly. He got to his feet, his demeanor cold as ice.

"J-" I began to speak his name, reaching for him as he made a hasty grab for his jacket, the force of it sending the chair toppling down. The women at the other table looked around in stunned surprise.

John didn't react at all when I tried to stop him; he didn't even seem to notice that I was there anymore. The music was too loud, there were too many people dancing and having a good time; soon enough he was lost in the crowd.

I wanted to go after him, but I didn't move. In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but wonder if those women were right: was I too young for him? Was I fooling myself for thinking we had a shot?

I didn't blame him for walking away. I was practically still a teenager.