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Proceed with caution!
It's a cringe story I wrote years ago but it's also my first completed story so it has an iron grip on me despite being all over the place and cringey. Nothing is accurate since I made everything up and it's totally fiction...
“I have your back. I didn’t mean only when it’s easy. All the time.”
— Veronica Roth, Divergent
N/p: bloodline, Ariana Grande
VOTES AND COMMENTS
☣☣☣
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As soon as Charles twirled me on his left arm, I caught a glimpse of a muscular bartender, hoisting an unconscious girl—which I believe was Gwen—and a worried looking Layla shoving past the waltzing people. Occasional oof's and ahh's violated the tuneful orchestra melody.
What in the name of hell is going on?
"Fuck." The bronze haired boy hissed when I realized that I was digging my Louboutin heel on his shoe - right where his left toe was.
Yes, Charles. You heard - saw - me right. After the wicked look Nate was sparing me throughout our first dance, I was convinced that he would shove me or possibly toss me right at Dominic. Which made me adamant to poke my finger on his midriff.
Talking about real damage, Nate combusted into giggles, like the ticklish guy he was.
Instant victory.
Right after he recovered from his outrageous burst of laughter, probably finding Beverly Kurchell looked at him funny, I swapped my partner in a flash, faster than Chris could say 'Naomi Watts' or Lady Maguiera could say 'want some?' for her new gourmet inventions.
Now as I gazed upon the red faced Charles from the cruelest pain woman could've ever brought a guy during a ballroom dance, my expression morphed into horror. "Goodness Charles, I'm sorry!" My left feet went backward, as his right feet stepped forward in sync. His brows furrowed in pain, but his dainty lips plastered a reassuring smile.
"It's... fine." He vouched as we continued our box steps, but my eyes once again caught a glimpse of Layla - now on the opposite side from where I saw her last - waving awkwardly at me, the bartender practically dumped Gwen on the thankfully cushioned long seat. Charles led me to another progressive chasse to right move, that annoyed me relentlessly since I can't figure whatever the hell Layla was mouthing.
You just know what to do.
In disagreement, I crossed my fingers on top of his arm and purposefully dug my heel on his left feet. Twice made him yelp a little louder. Maybe a little too loud.
And like rubbing salt in the wound.
A distant laughter could be heard from a group of old gentlemen and curious glances from the ladies. Before scurrying away, I managed to whisper a quick sorry at Charles and darted straight to Layla – and probably a hundred pair of diverse waltzing couples.
