-Eleanor Calder-
My eyes met with his once again as he approached me. At first I was sure that the boy was coming to ask another girl, but at the moment it seemed pretty clear that he intended on asking me.
I wasn't so quick to look away this time. I wondered, as he neared me, if he always walked like that, or was playing it up.
"Hey Pretty B, how you doin'." came his voice. What does 'B' mean? In the seconds after he spoke he stepped to fill the few metres that were left between us two.
"I'm- uh, I'm. I'm good." I replied blandly, not understanding why I couldn't be like Fizzy around boys and why I had to be so plain.
"Well pretty B, may I get your name?" he asked with confidence that could definitely be taken as a bit of cockiness as well, not punctured by my unassuring reply.
For some reason I suddenly really did not want this boy to know my name. He seemed mysterious, I didn't want to just tell him all about myself. I decided to just tell him my last name.
"It's Caly." I blurted out. That was what my father's mates called him, a shortened version of my last name. "Or Calder. That's what it really is." I corrected myself, sounding like an idiot.
"Alright then Calder, my name is Tommo." he put out his hand for me to shake, which surprised me a bit because it was so uncommon for boys to shake hands with a girl. Especially at a dance.
Nevertheless, I gently shook his hand. We shook for a bit too long and even when I tried to break free, he wouldn't let go.
I was already becoming concious of my sweaty palms, I wanted to quickly swipe them on my dress. But instead of letting my hand go, he gently pulled me off of the bench, leaving me with one hand to fix up my messed up hair and pat down my dress.
"That makes things easier." the boy, Tommo, said. I assumed his name was actually Thomas and that was his nickname.
"What does?" I questioned.
"Now I don't have to ask for your hand, I already have it. "
Both his and my arms were extended, as he tried to guide me to the dancefloor, but almost pulled me.
As we reached it I was facing him and he took my other hands in his as well and said. "Now I must ask you Calder, may I have this dance?"
Tommo smiled at me. It was the first time I'd seen him properly smile and he looked very nice, very, very nice. Maybe I did think he looked handsome in a bit of a different way than I thought Niall did.
I quickly returned what I realised was the first smile I'd given him either, and said "You may."
My mother had told me never to say yes to a boy who didn't come up to me and extend his arm out, asking for mine, and to always reply "You may" when they asked. My mum had been almost as bad as Fizzy at trying to make me go to a dance or get a boyfriend.
"Lovely." he replied cheerfully. A new song was starting and it was fast, upbeat, and designed for the jitterbug.
I was actually quite skilled at dancing, even though I'd never improvised like this with a boy, I took dance lessons every week. I was in the process of learning the jitterbug right now during classes.
Tommo was not actually so bad, I did slow myself down a bit to stay in pace with him, but we did work quite well together. A lot better than some other pairs I was watching who had been going at it for quite some time now.
I ended up laughing and giggling a bit after our first few dances as I grew a bit more comfortable with this boy. He was very charming and very, very good looking. The closer I was to him and the longer I stared, the more I realised how his subtle blue eyes, brown hair which was styled up on his head a bit curly, and clear olive skin, tanned even in the Autumn of Doncaster, could have made a few other girls feel like I did now.
As the night went on we danced the Swing and many other styles, some neither of us had ever danced before. During those dances we'd just try to imitate other pairs who knew what they were doing and we didn't end up being that bad.
Just before the end of the night, the last song, Tommo had to leave. He whispered it in my ear in the middle of a dance and then before I could say goodbye he boldly kissed my cheek and ran off out the door.
I stood there, alone, in the middle of the dance floor, pink cheeked and flustered after dancing with the boy.
He still was so mysterious. All I really knew about him was his name, not even that for sure. It was a nickname of sorts. I didn't know why he was late, why he was so good at dancing or why he had to leave early. Who were those friends that he greeted at the start, why was he without a tie or suit jacket, and why did he pick me to dance with out of all the other girls?
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