“Your hair does this thing when you wear it like that. It sort of tickles the curve of your neck, right…here,” I say, reaching up and drawing my finger lightly along the few inches of skin from her jaw down to the strap of her dress. My eyes move to hers, and I catch her looking at my finger against her skin a second before her eyes flit to mine. I breathe in slowly and pull my hand away, pushing both palms in my pockets again. “Anyway…just…I notice other things. That’s all.”
I can feel Maddy staring at me long after I turn my attention back to the people on the dance floor. When the band finishes a song, I hear her take a deep breath, like she’s about to speak, but we both startle when Holly jams herself between us, slinging an arm around both of our shoulders.
“I didn’t come here to stand, kids. I had a guy throw up on me at the hospital yesterday and am spending tomorrow cramming out a paper. Tonight, we dance!” She lets go of us and reaches between us toward Amber, who shimmies forward in her high heels, laughing and drunk already.
“You better take it easy on her. She’ll be passed out within the hour if you keep going at this rate,” I laugh.
Maddy takes a long swig from her beer, then reaches over to set it on an empty table.
“Yeah, probably. Sucks to be the rookie,” she laughs, looking at me for a brief second, her smile falling when she looks back out to her two carefree friends on the dance floor.
Couples are starting to form, and the fact that Maddy and I are standing close to the dance floor begins to feel weird. She points over her shoulder, toward our table, and I nod, but when she turns, I reach out to grab her arm, stopping her.
“Actually…” My head tips down, my eyes at her waist. I glance up into her surprised expression and shrug, letting my hand slide from her arm until I’m holding an open palm in front of her. “Whataya say? I don’t think I ever actually got to dance with you.”
Her brow bunches and she looks out at the people dancing under the strings of lights. She cups the back of her neck, and her eyes come to me again.
“You…dance?” she asks.
I close one eye, and wrinkle my other brow.
“I mean, not in a while, but yeah. I can handle the two-step,” I say, starting to feel silly holding my hand out for her to take. She looks at it again, then back up to me, finally taking my palm and smiling on one side of her mouth.
Her fingers are tiny in my grasp. I don’t know how they’re so lethal in the water, and I’m careful with them as I turn and lead her to an open area on the outdoor patio. My pulse quickens when I realize I have to turn and face her, and my other hand needs to hold her close. I thread my fingers through hers, our hands held at shoulder height between us while my other hand moves nervously to the curve of her waist.
I sway forward and back in rhythm with the rushing fiddles and guitar, and I concentrate on keeping this exact, arbitrary amount of space between our bodies for the entirety of the song. I don’t realize how rigid my muscles are or how long I’ve been holding my breath until the song ends and the couples around us all break away from each other to clap. I let go of her hand and turn to the side, clapping loudly, my palms sweaty and my chest working to catch up on air.
Maddy leans into me.
“You barely know your way around a dance floor,” she says. I wince and look at her. “It’s okay. Your brother never danced either.”
My lungs grow tight, and my heart stops for a second. The light in her eyes dims.
“Let’s take this next one nice and slow,” the lead singer says into the mic.
Maddy shrugs and turns to leave the dance floor, and I do something stupid…again.
“One more chance,” I say, reaching down and wrapping my fingers around her wrist. She turns into me, and I catch her, this time holding her close enough to feel her gasp. I swallow away my nerves, our foreheads so close they almost touch. She peers up at me through her lashes as I reach down, grabbing her other hand, before dragging them both up to my shoulders. “I’m not a bad dancer. I was just nervous.”
I clench my fists, hidden from her view, before forcing myself to run my fingertips along her hips, wrapping them around the small of her back, bringing our bodies even closer. With nowhere else to go, Maddy’s head falls against my chest, a perfect fit under my chin—and the last hold on her hair slips loose. I bring my hand up to sweep her hair over her shoulder, and I feel her take a sharp breath again when I do, so I stop, moving my touch back to her waist.
I can feel her relax with every step we take, her body resting against mine, depending more on me, until the singer reaches the chorus and I’m finally holding her like she’s where she’s meant to be. I look around at the world from this view. Her friends have each found partners, and strangers enter and exit the dance floor. Nothing has changed, yet somehow, just by holding her, everything feels different. My heart is slow, the storm inside calm. It’s time to be brave again.
“Evan never took you dancing?” I ask.