Heat floods Flint's face and spills down to his toes when Scout touches him. Which isn't to say they aren't already touching—that is, they're definitely already touching—for God's sake, they're only dancing, and Flint's mental capabilities have already scattered to the wind. He wants to reassure Scout. He wants to make this perfect. He wants to stop searching for the right words and just drag Scout in and kiss him breathless, but there are cameras everywhere. Flint shuts his eyes. He holds back.

"I'm not worried." For once, it's true. Flint looks back at Scout and lets himself enjoy the audacity of not having to look away after getting caught staring, of not having to hide any of the thoughts that might be showing on his face. "I want to be alone with you," Flint says, in a remarkably calm voice. "After that..." Slight shrug, and even slighter smile. "We'll think of something."