question: Who wants to go out dancing? answer: Pulkit paragraph: "I don't know … it was going to be just us tonight. I'm not sure I'm up for a night out." I was feeling calm and private that night. It seemed like tonight's darkness was small and personal, cupped hands offering a place for two, not the burning, open darkness of a rave. "Baby, let's go. It's been over a week, and I want to dance. Let's go together, you know you'll have fun once you get into it." She bit the inside of her bottom lip, looking at me like I was breaking her poor, sweet heart. I'm a sucker for that, and she knows it. "Okay, Rachel. Let's go, you're probably right." She grinned and gave me a kiss across the table, her lips soft and firm and sticking just enough that she gave the feeling you were really kissing, not just pressing your face into someone else's. "Let's not get fucked up tonight, though, okay, Rache? We don't – " "Sure, babe. Come on, I don't have to get fucked up every time we go out just to enjoy myself. Let's not waste any more time." She stood up and I followed her out to the street. It was dark enough that I could actually see a few stars through the screen of city light. Without hearing the car horns, I could almost taste the air of late March through the street fumes. If it was March, that meant that we'd been together almost a year and a half. It was last February, after the winter break, that we moved in together. Now spring was back, under the concrete, and I could smell it even here. "Isn't it an amazing night, Rache? Even the city feels alive when spring comes." "Taxi!" She waved down a car and pulled me in. 