Slow Dance

Based on a true story that I had to put into words for some ridiculous reason or another. The story of a girl who dances with a boy. .. 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.  

She would later compare the sudden feeling that exploded through her mind to that of being the victim of a drive-by shooting. Lucy had said something 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... something about him drew her to him. Was he her type? She couldn't remember. She lost track of the music's beat, distracted. Then she almost tripped. Her mind slammed back down to Earth.

She 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 safer 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 turned her focus to 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.

As she began to desperately but still cooly turned her head, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she saw it was him. He had a hand outstretched, an offer, and he heard him say, over the music, "May I have this dance?" 

All reasonable thoughts fell from her mind just then. Phoebe just 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. 

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- she 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 purple sky, swaying together. 

Author's Note

First draft of my first story (thing?) I've ever had another person read, I haven't exactly read any other entries on this site, please be forgiving regarding any kind of horrific faux pas that I may commit!
I could really use help with style and technique. Really just anything, I guess. Fire at will!

Should I describe the setting more?

Is it appropriate to ask for inspiration for what should happen next? I have this monstrous block at the moment. Hopefully it is. Maybe I should watch more chick flicks or something.

Should I even be still typing? Can I edit this stuff out later? Only one way to find out!

Reviews

[Kay]

This was absolutely adorable. Totally brought back all those wonderfully awkward memories of elementary school and whatnot. I noticed a few things, though (but they’re just teeny tiny). There were a few occasions where you used the same word multiple times within a very short period, for instance in the paragraph where Phoebe is asked to dance you say turn several times (and also say he instead of she, and turned where you should probably have written turn, so you may want to zip in and edit those) and in the paragraph below just is used an awful lot. That’s just a little thing, though and not a huge deal, it just makes it seem somewhat stilted. I also found in your second paragraph, your switch to describing what would happen in the future somewhat detracted from that section, you could simply have described that in the same way as the rest of the story, but, again, that’s just my opinion, it’s not a huge deal. As for the things you mentioned in your A/N, describing your setting more in a piece of this length probably would've dragged down the pacing, and seemed almost out of place since you're focusing more on what Phoebe's feeling. All in, I thought this piece was really well done. Excellent work =)

[BrynnaW.]

Beautifully written! Bravo! Keep writing! The setting was fine... Personally, I hate chick flicks and I'm a girl. My opinion though. You did a great job on this piece and you should continue writing. Also, if you wish you were born in the 1900's, why don't you write a story about that time. It will give you the feeling of actually being there. Keep up the good work!