Slow DanceA Story by Grace
The short story of a girl who dances with a boy. Based on a true story that I had to put into words! .. Havent exactly gotten much further than that! Enjoy!
Phoebe turned tomato red as she watched her friend whisper in the boy's ear, pointing at her. Lucy was merciless. Phoebe had told her, several times, that no she did not want to slow dance and yes she was perfectly happy by herself, and had almost convinced herself of it too, when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the boy nod.
Lucy had said something else and was walking away now, and Phoebe was grateful beyond imagining for two reasons- First of all, she could take her eyes off the ground, and, second, she would not have to worry about said boy witnessing the sudden manifestation of a bizarre and devilish force that was tugging at the corner of her mouth like a sadistic puppeteer. She fought it valiantly, trying to look appalled at Lucy's audaciousness. With a herculean effort, she regained control, and soon, was back to business- awkward dancing to some song with an ungodly amount of sudden pauses that everyone seemed to have memorized but her, with a side of halfhearted complaints to Lucy.
Phoebe tried to stealthily scope the tent for blue-shirt boy (she hadn't really allowed herself to lift her eyes much further for longer than a second), and was rewarded with a view the back of his head as he embarked on some extremely bold dance move or another. Phoebe winced. Lucy put her with that type? He'd probably run right over her. She wasn't his type. Still... he liked something about him. Was he her type? Or did she like him just because he said yes? She couldn't remember. She lost track of the music's beat, distracted. Then she almost tripped. Her mind slammed back down to Earth.
Phoebe resisted the urge to find the nearest wall and repeatedly bash her head against it. How long had she been staring? She wasn't drooling, was she? Paranoid, she scanned the tent for anyone gaping, reached for her mouth, and breathed a sigh of relief. Safe!
She decided it would be prudent to reserve any brain work for later. Instead, as she danced, Phoebe worried about the dance itself. Lucy had shown her the basics, but, what if she was bad? Phoebe had bad memories of dancing. The first and only guy she had danced with had apparently told his friends she steered him. Violently. Was that really true? Phoebe tried to block that out of her mind, shuddering. She was now regretting not researching dance before, but it was too late for that now. Giving up on her stream of thought, she placed her focus on the music.
That awful song was ending. Phoebe was again unusually grateful. Poor Phoebe immediately lost all feelings of fuzziness, however, as the ominously sweet first notes of a slow song began to play. As it became more and more obvious to the tent that doom by slow dance was imminent, the awkward eye contact making began. Phoebe tried to stealthily look around for blue-shirt. No dice. Doom became more and more inevitable.
By now she was panicking majorly. She casually turned her head, looking for blue shirts. Someone tapped on her shoulder. It was him. He had a hand outstretched, an offer, and he heard him say, "May I have this dance?"
All thoughts fell from her mind. Phoebe nodded, held by his steady brown eyes. She dropped hers then, unsure where to place her hands. His hands met hers, guided them. And then, they were swaying, and Phoebe found out his name was Eric, and that he went to another school. Despite her self control so far, some regret showed at that, and she dropped her eyes again, hoping he didn't notice. The last one hadn't been anything like this.
He tried to say something about her school, but Phoebe, with all the regret in the world, told him she had horrible hearing. He changed the subject. Eric leaned closer to Phoebe's ear, and asked her her favorite color. "Blue," she said, thinking of her eyes and the colors that looked nice with them. She looked at him again, and saw him smiling faintly, with that steady, relaxed eye contact. He had the softest eyes, eyes that so mercilessly melted the left side of her brain. Trying to hide the departure of all subtlety, she looked again at his shoulders, parallel with her eyes and thus, the obvious choice for shelter when eye contact was deemed unbearable. Blue...
Cuss. She wondered if he had noticed the connection. She shuddered at the implications- Phoebe really needed to play it cool. She looked back up at him again. He started saying some other kind of gibberish, while making gestures to another side of the tent. Since she didn't want to admit to bad hearing, she simply nodded, hoping it was a yes or no question. It probably was- he appeared satisfied and began steering them across the tent. Phoebe didn't hide her ridiculously wide grin at the adventure- no one else had a partner who swept them away, after all. They continued across the floor until they were out of the tent, and alone under the quiet purple sky.
© 2011 Grace
Mother always said not to fill this in, CA
AboutI love to learn new things, which is good since I am, conveniently, a student at the moment! I wish I had been born during the 1900's. I usually leave these kinds of boxes blank, honestly, but I reall.. more..