First Dance

I dedicate this extremely short story to mt, for obvious reasons. You're welcome soupy.

The lights bounced from wall to wall, the music blaring. I almost didn't see him approach me.

Nicholas Dalley, the current man of my dreams, was standing before me, with his fingers hidden in his hair.

"Hey, Leanne, I was wondering if..." he trailed off, obviously nervous.

He paused for a moment, his eyes travelling up from the floor to meet mine.

"If you wanted to... ah... dance with me?" he asked, in almost a whisper.

"Sure, I'd love that," I replied, sweetly, my cheeks bunching up under my eyes.

I had liked this boy ever since we were partnered up for a science project and he made a stupid pirate hat out of our assignment paper. If he hadn't of asked me to dance so soon, I was going to go over there and ask him myself!

"Yeah, I hear they're playing a slow song next, so..." I tried to make conversation.

"I know," he chuckled, "that's why I asked you, dummy."

He seemed extremely nervous; almost aghast that he had called me a dummy.

I smiled, "You could've just wanted to talk to me, idiot."

He let out like the longest breath I'd ever heard anyone breath.

"Don't be so nervous!" I said, brushing my fingertips against his. They were cold.

"It's hard not to be, I mean, I'm going to screw something up."

"Don't worry," I looked up at him, "We'll both screw something up then."

"Thanks," he murmured.

I slid my hand into his, feeling how supple and ice-cold his skin was. Nick immediately gripped onto my palm, as if he'd been waiting for this his whole life, and led me to the back wall of the dance hall.

This last up-beat song seemed to last forever, as I started to lean against his bony shoulder.

Finally, the DJ announced that we should grab a partner because he was slowing things down a bit. You know, it's interesting to see the shift when the style of music changes. You have all the 'cool' people emerging from the shadows because they all slow dance together. And all the 'un-popular' people step back to the sides because we're all to awkward to ask each other to dance, but mostly because we don't want to ruin our mutual friendships. Or at least that's what we say.

But not this time. This time I have Nick, who I could feel tug at my arm to get us moving through the crowd of 'uncool' people. Our people, any other time but now.

He led me to a spot in the middle of the dance floor, between the other couples who were preparing to dance as well.

When the first bars of the song rang out, Nick pulled me closer to his chest so that I could feel his breath on my cheeks. I wrapped my arms around his neck, catching the wisps of hair he had on the back of it. His hands were placed gingerly on my waist, like I was a fine china doll. We swayed gently for a few seconds, until I coiled my arms tighter around his neck, so my elbow crooks were at the base of it and rested my head on his shoulder. I could feel his hands become more solid on my back, forcing me closer, so we were chest to chest.

I had goosebumps all down my legs, my stomach clenched, and my heart going a sprinter's pace. It felt right, all of it. The way his hands held me and how my head fit on his shoulder. I wanted to feel his heat radiating onto me and his arms against mine everyday; I don't think I could ever be lonely if I had that forever. What happened afterwards didn't matter, all that mattered was here and now.

I couldn't believe the song wasn't over yet, as we swayed together for what seemed like an eternity. I felt Nick pull back a bit, leaving a gap between our chests and giving me a slight rest.

He stared directly into my eyes, green to brown, with such apt attention you would've thought it was the last time he'd ever see me. I guess he heard the coda of the song too. We just smiled at each other, kind of laughing at ourselves until he broke the silence between us.

"Leanne," he whispered.

"Yes," I replied, my lips barely moving.

"I really like you," he said, his face flushing pink.

I nodded, "And I, you."

His eyes widened and he lifted his head, squishing my intertwined fingers a bit.

"You do?" he spluttered.

I said, oh-so-matter-of-factly, "Yup."

He just kissed my freckles, his lips residing for only a moment. All I did was repeat the action, except I was on my tipitoes to reach his cheek.

Slipping out of my notice, the middle if the dance floor had kind of cleared for us. People were getting out of the way of the "lovebirds'" space, which only made us laugh harder.

When the song finally ended, our arms fell and he led me back to our place on the wall. His hands were no longer cold, but warm and slightly sweaty. I wasn't going to complain, though, I imagine my face was pretty shiny! I swear we looked like we just won the lottery or something with the smiles we donned.

We danced to every song after that (only the slow ones, though, he wasn't much of a bust-a-move guy). Nothing else happened, but I knew that I had a boy who put up with my craziness and thought I was beautiful, only a phone call away and that was all I needed. That and those amazing memories of our first dance as self-confessed likers.