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She's upstairs with Ann when he arrives. The grip on her champagne glass tightens as the voices saying “Ben!” float into her ear. She strains to hear more, resists the urge to leave her best friend behind and run downstairs.
“Leslie?” Ann says, startling her out of her thoughts.
“Huh? Yeah, sorry, what was that?”
“I said thanks again for coming early and helping me set up for my party.”
“Oh, of course. Always.”
Ann swipes on a coat of lipstick and gives herself one last look in the mirror. “All right, time to make our entrance. You ready?”
Leslie smoothes her hand down her dress, wondering if she should have chosen the one with a lower neckline. Is she wearing too much blush? Not enough? Is the red lipstick too bold?
She wants to look good for him. It shouldn't matter, but she hates that it does. But what she hates more is that he might not even notice.
Leslie smiles quickly and downs the last bit of champagne. “Yup. Let's go.”
~~~~~
It’s forty minutes before she talks to him.
She sees him almost immediately, of course, but can’t bring herself to go over to him just yet. Instead, Leslie runs back and forth between the kitchen and living room with snacks and drinks, wondering if she’s at least catching his eye.
Once there's nothing left do to, she grabs another drink to calm her nerves, finally stopping to talk to Andy and April in the kitchen. She almost forgets about Ben in the living room, pretends that she isn’t in his direct line of vision should he choose to look in that direction.
Pretends she can’t feel him looking at her every so often.
But Leslie keeps her back to him and ignores it all. She won’t be able to function unless she does.
Donna joins the conversation, making it her personal responsibility that Leslie’s glass stays filled with wine. It helps with the nerves for sure, and she feels her cheeks flushing more with every sip.
She still feels him before she sees him, walking up behind her to join the circle.
They never have a proper hello, almost like they don’t need one. Ben easily joins in on the conversation as though he’s been there from the beginning. Somehow they break off, just the two of them moving to a corner between the table and wall. That happens a lot lately, she thinks. The gradual isolation from everyone else, like they’re the only two people in the room.
“Glad to see you brought the hat back,” Leslie says, reaching up to flick the poof at the end of the Santa hat he's wearing.
He laughs and takes another sip of his beer. “It’s not Christmas without the hat. Somehow it became a tradition.”
“Yeah, it really has. And the pie, I’m sorry, “dessert calzone” that you brought is amazing.”
“Thanks. I was surprised it came out as good as it did considering I was drunk when I made it.”
She knows--she was there. Just another night of half of the City Hall crew drunkenly stumbling back to Ben’s place because it was the closest. Another night of snuggling on his couch under one of his blankets. Another night of sleeping on his couch because he tells her it’s too late to go home.
Another night that she let any possible opportunity slip through her fingers.
Leslie doesn’t know how long they stand there talking. He tells her about his holiday trip back home to Minnesota, about the upcoming changes in his department for the new year, even stupid littles things she already knows about him but still wants to hear again.
He knows her plans, asks about the traditions she and her Mom have had for years. He remembers it all, even the things she said in passing weeks ago.
He remembers.
“Okay, everyone, picture time!” Ann calls out. “City Hall crew gather round.”
Leslie somehow gets pulled across the room to the other end of the group while Ben stays behind. And while she loves Ann, Leslie still wishes it was Ben’s arm around her as they smile for the camera.
~~~~~~
When it’s time for the White Elephant gift exchange, the party has already started to thin. Chairs are set up in a circle around the room, and Ben takes the one directly across from Leslie. As the unopened presents make their way from hand to hand, Ben and Leslie’s eyes always seem to find each other.
With every laugh, with every joke about wrapping paper, he looks to her, and she can’t help but smile back.
Every time.
By the end of the game, someone she hardly knows gets the gift she brought. Her lips quirk when the gift is opened and Ben is the first one to compliment it.
Good. She bought it with him in mind, and even though there was only a one in twenty chance he’d get it, she’s still proud of herself for knowing what he’d like.
She's happy that she knows him.
It continues on once the board games are brought out and the alcohol keeps flowing. She loves seeing him this way, so relaxed and happy and open.
But what she loves the most is he always seems to have the smile just for her.
~~~~~
Only a few of them stick it out past midnight, and it’s around this time that Chris gets his second wind.
“The party can’t die now!” he says. “I know, let’s dance. My gym has been offering salsa classes, and it’s a fun way to get the adrenaline going.” Chris plugs his phone into the speakers, and soon an infectious, Latin beat fills the room. “Leslie, you took the class when they offered it at the Rec Center, right?”
“Uhm, yeah. I mean, I’m no expert--”
“Nonsense,” Chris replies. “It’s like riding a bike. You remember the basic steps, right?”
She nods and realizes that her body is already starting to sway to the music.
Chris laughs and claps his hands. “Perfect! We can help teach the rest.” He grabs Ann’s hand and draws her in, moving his feet and explaining the steps to her as he counts them out.
Leslie turns to find Ben is the only one left without a partner, and he’s watching Ann and Chris with an amused curiosity while his foot taps to the beat.
“Uhm, did you want learn?” Leslie asks.
He chuckles. “I don’t think my hips can move like that.”
“I honestly didn’t think mine could either, but once you get the technique down, you just let the rhythm take care of the rest.” She steps back and shows him a step, her feet moving from side to side and hips swirling. “You try. Just keep the beat. One, two, three, four.”
He does the steps to the beat, but they are choppy and ungraceful, almost exaggeratedly so. “See, I told you I can't do it.”
“Come on, you aren’t even trying. I know you can do better than that.” She steps even closer until there is barely any space between them. “Just watch me, okay? See how I let my whole body roll into it? It’s not just the feet. It’s the hips and the hands all kind of flowing off of one another. And try to dance on the balls of your feet. You want to barely take the one step before you go into the other. If you plant your feet too firmly, it won’t flow together.”
She keeps her eyes trained on his feet for a few seconds, and when she looks back up, he’s looking at her with a soft smile.
“That helps,” he says. “Still not sure my hips will ever cooperate, but I think I’m getting it.”
When the songs changes, Ben does something she doesn’t expect. He grabs her hand and pulls her in, their bodies now flush and moving together.
“You dance with partners in salsa, right?” he asks.
“Uh, yeah. Yes, usually.” She swallows when their fingers lace and his other hand rests on her hip. “It’s good to get the basics steps down, and then once you do, you can maneuver you and your partner across the floor in more elaborate ways. See, we can take bigger steps back or go at an angle to move in small circles.”
“How do we know what direction to both go?”
“Well, the man typically leads, and he, uhm, well he guides his partner by the hand on the hip. Kind of steers her that way.”
Leslie didn’t think it was possible, but his grip tightens, and he gently pulls her towards him as he steps back and around. “Like that?”
“Y-yes. That’s good.”
Leslie keeps her gaze down at his feet for a little, offering pointers, but when she looks back up, she almost loses her breath.
He's watching her so intently, his eyes hooded and unwavering.
The way he's looking at her, the way their bodies are moving as one in such a sensual way--it’s too much.
She alternates between looking at him and their feet, making comments about the steps and his progress because she just doesn't know what else to do.
But every time she looks back up at him, there's that same look in his eyes. It's clear he doesn't look away even when she does.
“You’re getting really good.”
He smiles, his eyes still fixed on hers. Ben doesn't answer, though. Instead, he spins her, twirling her out and back in again.
A giggle erupts from deep in her chest as she spins and falls forward against his chest. She presses her face on his shoulder before she realizes what she's doing, but when she pulls back, he doesn't seem to mind.
“Now, where did that move come from?” she asks when her laugh dies down.
“I've had that one in my back pocket for a while. Girls always feel pretty when you spin them on the dance floor.”
He spins her again for emphasis of the point, and damn, when he's right, he's right.
But no amount of spinning in the world could make her feel more beautiful than the way he looks at her.
That mixed with the pulsing music gives her a confidence she hasn't experienced around him before.
She moves a hand from his shoulder to just behind his neck, closing whatever gap might have been there before.
And they continue to dance.
~~~~~
After the impromptu salsa session, the few of them that are left collapse onto the couches--well, all except for Ben. It’s got to be close to 3AM, and people are dropping like flies.
“I think I’m going to head out now,” he says to the group, and is met with a chorus of groans.
“What, no,” Ann says with a yawn. “It’s late. Just stay over.”
Leslie holds her breath, hoping more than anything that he stays. She’s not sure what it will accomplish. It’s not like anything will happen--if he even wants anything to happen. But she wants to be near him, spend as much time with him as possible before he goes to Minnesota for a week. Maybe she’ll figure out whatever the hell was going on with all of that dancing.
It could be wishful thinking or just good old fashioned sleep deprivation making her see things, but she swears his eyes linger on hers more than anyone else's as he looks around the room.
“Uh, thanks, but I really need to head home. I have an early drive to Minnesota tomorrow. But thanks for having me over. It was great.”
Ann smiles and stands, unsteady on her feet due to a mixture of exhaustion and alcohol as she pulls Ben into a hug.
He says goodbye to Leslie last.
“Merry Christmas, Leslie. Have a great one and be safe, okay?”
“Thanks, you, too. Drive safe and have fun.”
Her heart is screaming at her to stand up and hug him. They’re friends, it’s perfectly fine to hug him even if it is in front of all of their friends. Ann did it, so it’s not a big deal. Plus, Ben gives the best hugs.
But she doesn’t move. Her stupid, annoying brain is too scared. Too scared of pushing the envelope, too scared of being too forward and obvious in case he doesn’t feel the same way.
Too worried to initiate anything and risk ruining their friendship.
It’s her brain that’s to blame for a lot in the last few months when it comes to him. Their friendship has grown, but it won’t let anything else. It’s why she can’t bring herself to take his hand when it brushes against hers in a crowded bar--or even not so crowded. Why she doesn’t just rest her head against his shoulder when they sit unnecessarily close on his couch during movie nights. Or when he hugs her goodnight, his cheek pressed against hers, it’s her stupid brain that says that moving her lips just a few inches over towards his is the worst mistake she could make.
And when he walks out of Ann’s house that night, Leslie doesn’t think she can hate her brain more.
“You’re still staying, right Leslie?” Ann asks in the way that says her answer better be yes.
“Yeah, I’m staying. No point in going home.”
“Good. I’ll get everything to make up the couch.”
Leslie nods and stands to stretch. “Okay. I’m gonna run and get my stuff from the car.”
She grabs her jacket, thankful that she brought the one with the hood because of course it’s raining now. It’s only fitting given how she feels.
It’ll be over a week before she sees Ben again, and given that they usually see each other multiple times a week, it’s a separation she isn’t ready for. Not after what happened tonight.
She wonders what is waiting for him back home. Wonders if he'll sneak away when his family becomes too much and text her to save him.
He won't, her brain tells her. He probably won't give you a second thought. He has his family and Minnesota friends. Maybe even an old girlfriend he'll reconnect with.
Either way, it won't be her he kisses to bring in the new year.
Leslie wraps the coat tightly around her and walks to the car. A few feet up, she can see Ben's rear lights, his car still parked in its spot. She ignores it, unlocking her car and pulling out her bag from the mess in the backseat.
She's pulling the bag over her shoulder when Ben's car does a U-turn on the street. She tries to hurry, irrationally angry now for things she has no right to be angry about.
She slams the door and turns around as his car comes towards hers, but instead of hearing tires against wet pavement, she hears brakes.
“Leslie, wait!” Ben calls out.
It feels like a scene from a movie, turning around in slow motion as the rain falls down and he runs to her.
She feels like she should say something, but she's frozen. He's coming at her with with such a fierce look of determination, she doesn't know what to do.
Ben doesn't really give her much time to do anything anyway. He rushes up the lawn and takes her face in his hands.
Holy crap, Ben Wyatt is kissing her.
It's cold and rainy and miserable, but the feeling of Ben's lips on hers makes her forget all of that.
He pulls back with a look of panic, like his brain finally caught up with him.
“I'm sorry. I just rushed up here and--”
But now it's her turn. Leslie grabs him by his jacket and pulls him down. She can feel his smile against her lips, and she can't help but giggle into the kiss.
“Merry Christmas, Leslie.”
She smiles and reaches up to wipe the bit up red lipstick that smeared his lip.
“Merry Christmas, Ben.”