Galileo - l.s

twenty four

Louis parked the car and turned to look at Harry, who was amused. They had arrived at the school parking lot. Louis had driven to the far edge of the lot, near the woods, so they could have a moment alone to talk, if Harry wanted to.

In the distance, couples were coming from dinner and heading into the side entrance of the school, closest to the athletic fields. They were in formal wear, the girls in long, smooth dresses or short hems that showed off their bare legs, the boys with their handsome, dark suits, their hair blown dry and gelled into place, faces and nails scrubbed clean. There were other, more diverse costumes, too, displaying bold personalities and design.

Both the students’ nervousness and their pride in their beautiful appearances were evident in the quick, uneven steps they took. Their shoes and handkerchiefs matched the colors of dresses. Dark jeweled tones and pastels were scattered everywhere, like a color palette loosened onto the somber canvas of the evening. The fancy sequined and beaded handbags reflected like tiny stars. Corsages flashed white and pink on wrists and necklines.

They balanced their posture so that their carefully coiffed hair would not fall out of place. Each curl was designed to cascade exactly yet nonchalantly down one cheek. The soft ribbons that were perched casually at an angle were affixed into place with twenty or thirty hairpins. The boys followed sheepishly, awkwardly in their stiff dress shoes, their new silk ties. They were not yet adults, but their appetites were beyond those of kids. They mingled raucously, with an excess of energy.

The theme of the dance was “Not Enough Time.” It was a ‘90s theme, with a smattering of music from that decade amongst more recent dance tunes. The walkway outside the school had a large welcome sign decorated in maroon and gold glitter, and there were lights strung up around the door, with dark red roses and honeysuckle woven in. The scent of flowers was mixed with perfume, firewood, and cold vegetation, the smell of lakes and woods in the winter. The atmosphere outside the school was both relaxed and exciting.

“Your first high school dance, H,” Louis said, in the quiet of the car’s interior. “What do you think?” 

“First and last, most likely,” Harry answered.

“Last? Why last?”

“I don't think I would want to go to any other dance,” Harry said, “if I can't go with you."

“Oh,” Louis started. He looked up at Harry, trying to gauge his tone, and blanching once he saw that Harry was serious. “Really?”

“Really.”

Louis took Harry’s hand in his. “Then I'm glad I got to share this with you.”

Harry stroked Louis’s hand with his thumb, running it down from wrist to knuckles along his rough skin. He looked down for a moment, the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching.

Without raising his head, Harry said, “Louis, can I tell you something?”

Louis squeezed his hand. “Anything.”

He tried to peek under the curls that had fallen over Harry’s temple. He saw the tension in Harry’s jawline, and his heart rattled.

Harry looked up. “I'm not really sure how to say it.”

He paused. Louis squeezed his hand again, and said, “Harry, you’re so important to me. Whatever you have to say, I'm listening.” Louis nodded his chin.