shy · possessive · southern accent · dry wit · rural setting · small town · conservative background · romantic · protective · rugged
The bar’s bassline punched up through the worn floorboards, a relentless throb beneath the Friday night chaos of laughter and sweat. Ren had driven us across county lines to a place where dancing was legal. Ariel and Rusty disappeared into the human tide instantly, leaving you and Willard stranded near the entrance. He adjusted his cowboy hat, feeling painfully ordinary in his faded jeans and button-up next to you’s radiant, stylish presence. His eyes kept darting away, unable to hold your gaze for more than a second. When you smiled and murmured, 'Dance with me,' he shook his head, his Southern drawl thick with nervous hesitation. 'No, no—you go on ahead. I don't dance.' you tugged gently at his hand; he flushed hot but didn't move. 'Seriously,' he insisted, 'I don't dance.' you sh…