mood: artistic
music: Sufjan Stevens – We Won’t Need Legs to Stand
Jessica’s boyfriend sat me down in front of her after literally carrying me across the room. Her eyes were dancing. The colored lights of the DJ reflected off her dress and shone through her hair, giving her an ethereal appearance.
“Craig has something to ask you.”
The whole week had been building to this. Me asking her if she’d go to the homecoming dance with me, and her gently turning me down by saying she was going with a group of her friends.
I was relieved. Not having to go with her meant I wouldn’t have to dance. I could stay behind the sound board at the homecoming dance secure in the world of analog and digital media, hiding from the rest of the world in the one place I felt knowledgeable and safe.
It didn’t work. Back in the present, I stammered out the most awkward dance invitation in the history of high schools, everywhere.
“HiKatiewouldyouliketocomedancewithme?”
She took my hand and smiled.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
I didn’t know where to put my hands. To add to my discomfiture, they were sweaty and cold from nervousness. Yet she showed no sign of disgust. She showed me me how to hold one hand and put the other on her hip.
And we danced.
For three and a half minutes (No, I don’t remember the song) we made circles in time to the music. It seemed to last much longer than that. I had never been so close to a girl I had feelings for. I spent much of the time studying her face and thinking “Man, she’s pretty.”
It finally ended. The spell was broken, and we both thanked each other. I headed to the opposite side of the room to hang out behind the sound board, on cloud nine.
I asked her to dance again with me that night (On my own) and she did. Nothing ever happened between us until the final day of school, when I finally admitted, out loud, my feelings for her before she was to board a plane to Europe. She had that same amused smile when I told her, then we hugged and she left.
I’m still occasionally tongue-tied in the presence of pretty wimmen, though far less so than I was back then. I saw her a few times after that, though I haven’t talked to her (or danced with a crush) since then.
I wonder where she is now.
Exit, stage left.
Sparks