When a girl meets a guy while line dancing, you don't say hello. You first notice the way they move and how they carry themselves. You exchange eyes and add a bit of a smile, if you're feeling lucky. Not a single word was said, not even a wave. She didn't know the dance at first, but she saw a spot near a guy with plenty of space to learn. She didn't recognize him, but he knew the dance like it was instinct. She hopped into the crowd while quickly studying him and his moves to keep pace. She followed his footwork well enough to disguise to the untrained eye that it was her first time attempting it, but luckily, he noticed. He noticed how quickly she figured it out. He noticed the way she moved and how she carried herself. He noticed her blue eyes and the smirk that appeared when she gleamed in his direction. After the dance, high fives were exchanged to acknowledge the moment they met. However, it wasn't until they escaped to the patio for a breath of fresh air that they were able to formally introduce themselves, without the pounding music drowning out their conversation. It was a Saturday night in early October, and it turned out to be the last single Saturday night of our lives.