Girl

Chapter 2

We continue to dance, circling the ballroom. Our bodies are pressed together as we perform an intense, intimate dance with sharp turns and graceful arches. She is such a worthy partner, and I don’t dare let her go. When foolish men come up to us and ask if they may have a dance, I fix them with the most intimidating stare humanly possible and lead us away before Indi even has time to process their faces. Because, no. They may not have a dance. I am fully aware of how selfish, how manipulative I can be. But I wouldn’t ever hurt Indi. I am in love with her after only a single night of interaction. I have been in love with her, quite literally, since the moment I’ve laid eyes on her. She is mine, and I will not let her go.

   We sway and spin and sidestep. We ignore the stares of our enemies and admirers, and we dance.

   Indi is an enchanting creature. She moves with the poise of a queen and the elegance of a ballerina. She is taken over by the music and carried off into a little world that is her own. And I am left here, holding onto her oblivious body and wishing to God that I could join her, wherever she is. But it is enough to be this close to her, to have heard her voice, and for it to have spoken to me. And I am perfectly alright with being the keeper of her body while she is away.

   As I’m admiring her, she regains consciousness and says, “I’ve seen you before.”

   I pause.

   “I often come to these events.”

   “Yes. I remember you.”

   I say nothing.

   “From the last masquerade ball. You took off your mask.”

   Just so I could see her more clearly. And because I was breathless from desire.

   “It was a very uncomfortable mask,” I lie.

   “You were watching me.”

   “Because you are an exquisite dancer. And I find you intoxicatingly beautiful.”

   She looks at me.

   “I also think you are the most captivating person I have ever met—and the most diverse.” I say the last part with a slight laugh.

   Indi stares at me for another second, an emotion I cannot recognize flits across her face and then, just as quickly, it flees.

   “Let’s dance,” she says.

    And we do. For an amazingly long time until the great, old clock chimes the start of yet another impossibly late hour. Indi jumps, her eyes more than a bit panicked. She glances at the ticking clock and tries to wiggle her way out of my arms, but I tighten my grip.

   “What’s wrong?” I ask.

   “I’ve got to go.”

   “Why?”

   “It’s late. My mother’s expecting me.”

   I deflate, miserable at the thought of her leaving.

   “May I see you again?” I ask.

   She looks at me. Really looks at me. And then, “Yes.”

   I smile. “Good. Meet me next week at the Checkered Ball.”

   “Alright,”

   I can tell that Indi really needs to leave, but I am not yet ready. I bow my head so that I’m looking down on her, and then lean forward and brush a kiss to her cheek. When I open my eyes, I find that she has completely stilled and is touching her cheek where I kissed her. She is staring at my shirt. I lift her chin with my finger and say, “Until next week.” She smiles then, a glorious, blinding thing that makes my heart thrum in my chest conspicuously.

   “Goodbye,” she says, and then she has left me, gone in a flurry of black silk.