In a matter of seconds, he catches up to me again, winds his arms around my waist from behind, and kisses my neck. He's being so handsy tonight, having no problem with PDA. And I can't help but giggle as I try to get away, only he's not letting me. We're earning stares from strangers around us, but neither of us gives a rat's ass.
"Stop!" I smack his bicep and push him playfully as I catch my breath, my eyes landing on the "For Sale" sign at the corner space of the block—the same one I saw the other day.
Giovanni sees what I'm staring at and he stands behind me, his hands on my waist as we both watch the empty room. There's one dim light inside, at the far corner that allows us to see the interior of the room.
Out of nowhere, I envision my dream in this space. The floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the walls, little kids—girls and boys—following my choreography. And at night, I'd want to open my doors to adults who want to find escape through dancing, just like I do.
