Rover.

I'm not sure when I managed to drift off to sleep, but I started to hear the distinctive scratches of a record playing.

I'm in the dark place again, but I don't feel as scared as the other times. I try to follow the music as it gets louder and louder, and finally, I see it. The jukebox lighting up in all its colours. Standing in front of it is the girl in a beautiful blue day dress.

"Cleopatra?" I say her name.

She turns around to look at me.

"I thought you could use some fun tonight," she says.

I grin, "Yeah, I could do with some of that."

"I tried my best to make sure we are the only two here, but who knows how long that will last," she tells me.

After a few steps closer, everything else comes into perspective. The diner with checkered floors and sparkly vinyl seats. The walls are decorated with old guitars and music notes.

"It's quaint," I state.

"I'm glad you like it," she replies, "I was debating in between this and a carnival."

"What makes you think up all these places?" I ask her.

"I don't know," she shrugs, "Movies? TV? Why not pretend we're in one of them for a night."

"You mean every night," I correct her.

She starts to go back to the buttons of the jukebox but stops, "I sent you a message today."

"I'm sorry," I say, "I didn't get it. Well, I was in the hospital and I don't even remember most of the day. I must have just not been looking hard enough."

"Don't worry about it," she says, "I was just asking how you were doing after what happened."

"Good," I answer her. "Definitely better now that we're here."

"How is this better than singing on a stage every day to thousands of people?" she snarkily questions.

"It's different, new," I tell her. "There's so much to experience, It's good to take some time away from everything and spend it with you.

"With me?" she looks at me surprised.

I meet her gaze, "How can I prove to you that you're the only person I want to spend this time with? And don't say there's a million other girls out there."

"Fine," she grins, "I won't say it. And on the other matter, make me a milkshake."

"What?" I beg her pardon.

"You asked how to prove yourself," she chuckles, "I want a milkshake."

"Really?" I make sure and she nods. "Okay then, one milkshake coming up."

I walk back behind the counter looking at every single utensil and blender in front of me. I spot a small fridge and decide to open it in the hopes of finding whatever ingredients I need to make a milkshake. Of course, it's practically empty except for a single pink rose. I pull it out and stand back up to show Cleopatra.

"Is that for me?" she asks.

"I guess it is," I say with a smile, giving it to her.

"Thank you," she returns the expression, "it's beautiful."

"Well, you're the one who dreamt it," I point out to her.

"Oh yeah," she looks at it closer, "I must have."

I study her as she enjoys the smell of the petals and pollen.

"To repay you," she turns back to me, "would you accept this dance?"

"Repay? You're the-" she cuts me off.

She leans onto her elbows, "You gave it to me, so it's pretty much the same thing."

"Whatever you say," I tell her.

"So?" she goes back to her question. "Want to dance?"

"Sure," I agree happily.

She hops off of her spot and dashes towards the jukebox once more to play a song. I'm not too far behind coming back to the open space.

"Which one are you going to choose?" I ask her.

"I don't know," she says, "I'm kind of just pushing buttons until something works."

I try to help her, "All you got to do is-"

"The records are all blank," she shows me, "I'm kind of just hoping that my brain picks something."

It's only seconds after that when a few notes begin to resonate throughout the diner. I can see her swaying her shoulders as she keeps time with the beat. 

"Summer of '69," I say. "I think that's the wrong decade."

"Don't judge me," she dramatically scowls at me. "I like the music a lot more than the 1950s."

I take a couple of steps back and extend my hand, "Are we going to dance?"

She takes my hand but doesn't move much.

"You said you wanted to dance," I say.

"Now that you've put me on the spot," she seems to curl back into herself, "I'm not sure anymore."

"Just, take my hand," I instruct her.

She hesitates for a second, but she finally takes the leap of faith, and I pull her closer to me. I put her left hand on my shoulder and I take her right hand in mine. We start off slow, just moving to the music to try and get more comfortable, yet it doesn't take long for her to trust me in making her spin out away from me before reeling her back. We don't stop, not even when the next song starts and then the one after it.  

Eventually, it all goes silent, but still, we stay together.

This one song comes to my mind and almost as if on queue it starts playing. We Belong.

Our pace slows as we move around the room, not even realizing the light dimming and being replaced with the twinkling sparkle of a disco ball.

I watch as her dress turns to a bright pink colour with thin straps. She didn't even notice.

The room around us is different now too. The floor becoming the wood of a gymnasium where a stage sits at the very front. There are streamers of fabric lining the ceiling and balloons everywhere.

She smiles up at me and I stop moving. I'm worried about what she might be thinking, but I don't give her the chance.

I lift my hand to her cheek and move closer. I can feel her breath on my lips and I don't take a second more to close the space between us. I can sense her arms caressing my neck and her hair brushing by my hand. Our kiss is passionate, the waves moving us in a perpetual infinity where we can't be apart. Her want is just as strong as mine and I don't want it to stop, but she pulls away.

Her left hand is on my chest when she says, "My name is Noah."