Damsel[ed]: No Rescue Required

Chapter 6: The Queen of Angels and The King of Demons

Maddox claps. "Okay. We'll take this slow. First part of closed position. Boys, cup your right hand over your partner's left shoulder blade—"

The gym explodes in grumbles the third time today, students either lost or afraid of physical contact with the opposite sex. The doors creak open and I turn my head to see Gats meander through. He chucks a coffee cup over his shoulder and I grin, he must've stopped off at the teacher's lounge. The cup lands in the trash can, and students actually applaud for him and his impossible feat. He bows and turns to Maddox.

"Apologies," he says with the elegance of a knight, "I—"

"Kid!" Maddox pulls him into closed position. "See this? My hand cups his shoulder, my back is straight..." yada yada yada. Instead of freezing like I would, Gats winks at one of the popular girls, smiling like a doofus all the while.

Jaylin laughs and I copy her. A sense of free-fall hits me as I look into The Girl of My Dreams' eyes. "So," I say, "hi."

"Hi." She giggles, gently touching my shirt. "Did I introduce myself?"

"Uh...well, I kind of picked up your name from Heaven. And Maddox, with his shouting." I cup my hand around her shoulder blade and my heart kicks into overdrive.

"Oh," she says, "well, I'll introduce myself anyway. Jaylin Kwan. Horse fanatic and Star Trek enthusiast. You're...Angel right?"

She says it like it's one of those cool guy names (you know, Jesse, Diesel, Bruce) and for once, I'm not too against the nickname.

"Uh, yeah, Angelos Fibbs. Angel works too." Maddox sneaks around, correcting stances and growling about posture. The Star Trek remark bounces in my head. I try to control myself, but my inner Jedi adds, "You know, Star Wars trumps Star Trek so hard it hurts."

"What! No!" She swats my shoulder. "Captain Kirk is bae!"

"Bae," I say, "what does that even mean?"  I rack my brain. Two weeks ago Heaven spilled Red Bull all over my phone and now it's slower than congress, so excuse me if I don't know the definitions of non-real words.

She shrugs. "Before anyone else. It also sounds like 'babe,' so, yeah, that too."

"Well, I'm sure there's someone equally as"—I pause, wrapping my head around the foreign, not-technically-real word—"bae in the Star Wars universe."

"Like who?"

"Uh..." I'd rather answer what a 'sinusoidal function' is. "...Han, I guess?" She grins, raising both of her eyebrows. It's adorable and frustrating all at once. "I don't know!" I throw up my free arm for good measure. "I don't pick up on things like that!"

"Uh-huh. Man-crushing?"

"What? No! I just—"

She laughs and brushes a strand of hair out of my face. I must be blushing furiously, but she doesn't seem to notice.

"Alright!" Maddox shouts. "Clasp hands. Boys, extend your left arm, girls, your right. Remember, good posture. Good dancers—and martial artists, for that matter—don't slump."

I exhale. Thank God for Listerine. "Shall we?" I ask.

"We shall." She takes my hand. Energy rockets through me at the touch. Stupid annoying power! What does it even do? My skin's burning up and I try to pull away, but Jaylin keeps her hand wrapped tightly around mine.

"Sorry." I stare at the harsh lights above my head. " I—"

"No, no," she says, "It's fine. It's nice, actually." Her eyes cut away.  "Are you a super?"