Chapter 22: Dancing With Myself

I felt like a bundle of nerves as I stood outside the school fieldhouse, trying to summon every last ounce of courage to step foot inside. The sound of music and laughter filtered through the doors, as if to mock and keep me stuck in perpetual limbo. I still couldn’t believe I’d talked myself into doing this.

I tugged at the zipper of my jacket and adjusted my cap, pulling it ever tighter, thank god this dance didn’t have a dress code. There was nothing keeping me from being anything other than myself, just like Wes had said.

So what the heck was I waiting for?

Was I nervous?

Was I scared?

Yeah, so maybe I was…

Of what?

Everything.

What if Wes stands me up?

What if Troy is too busy to chat with me?

What if I’m so foreign and out of place that I’m stared at the entire time?

What if—

Come on Alex, get a hold of yourself! Stop overthinking this, take a deep breath and compose yourself.

Breathe in…

…and Exhale.

At the count of five, you’re going to open both of those double doors and walk inside.

It’s easy. It’s simple, a piece of cake. Your brothers could do this in their sleep. So stop worrying.

You can do this…

Yeah, that’s right…

I can do this.

Breathe in…

…and Exhale.

Ok, Ready?

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Breathe in…

Within seconds of stepping into the gym, the lights and noise slammed into me all at once. The dance was a swirl of color and movement, with classmates mingling, laughing, and dancing to the beat of a techno rap song reverberating off the walls. The usual cliques were scattered in every direction, forming their own little groups, and for a second, I regretted my decision. But then I felt a hand gently brush against my shoulder, steadying me. When I saw who it belonged to, my anxiety eased a little.

"Hey, you made it!" Wes said, his voice light but with an undercurrent of excitement. He stood beside me, looking relaxed in a simple button-up shirt and sneakers.

I took another breath and nodded. "Yeah, wish I knew how though."

We headed to the edge of the dance floor and observed the pandemonium before us. I crossed my arms, trying my best to be invisible.

"This isn’t so bad," Wes said with a grin, his eyes scanning the room. "Hasn’t gone off the rails as much as I thought it would yet."

I couldn’t help but smile. ”I guess. Still isn’t really my cup of tea."

"You’ll get used to it," he said, assuredly. “Don’t stress it.”

I was caught off guard by how easily he navigated a crowd, like he belonged. It was strange, seeing him here in this context. Every prior encounter with him had been lowkey. But here he was, in packed quarters, just as comfortable.

Just as I was beginning to relax, an all too familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Oh muh gawd, Hayley! Look who decided to show up!"

Time stopped as I turned around and instantly locked eyes with Tiffany, who was standing nearby with a group of her friends. Her expression was a mix of curiosity with a gleam of mischief that screamed bad news.

Tiff tilted her head, a sly grin forming on her lips.

"I thought you had an embargo against school dances, Hatixandra," She commented, her tone light but with a sharp edge. "What’s the occasion?"

I stiffened, feeling heat rise to my face, of course Tiff would be here, if anything she should have noticed me sooner.

Wes stepped in before I could say anything.

"No reason in particular," he offered casually. "We’re only here to hang out. Didn’t know it was a crime for her to show up."

Tiffany raised an eyebrow, scanning over at him. "No crime, Freeman. Just didn’t expect to see hat girl with you. She’s practically allergic to these things."

"Yeah, well, surprises happen," Wes said, his voice even. “Don’t you still have to sort things out with Joey? Go back to bothering him.”

Tiff stared at him for a moment longer, then sighed, deciding to drop the subject for now.

“Ok, whatevs, go have your fun with her, Romeo.” she relented, her tone saccharine sweet, before turning back to her friends.

As she walked away, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Wes leaned in closer, lowering his voice.

"You good?"

"Yeah," I muttered, though my jaw was still clenched. "Just... she’s always a handful."

Wes nodded, but didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he gestured towards the snack area nearby. "C’mon, let’s grab something to eat."

He began marching towards concessions and I followed behind. The path was dense with people, forcing us to have to cram our way through. At one point, he offered me his hand to hold so we wouldn’t lose one another, only to quickly drop it when he saw the insulted look on my face.

At the snack tables, the lines were super long so we briefly split up. He tackled the drinks, while I went to get us cake, which worked well enough for me because that’s where Troy was working.

Troy was standing behind a long table, with a cash register to his left, and his phone to open to sports scores down on his right. He had the biggest look of surprise when he saw me next in line.

“Alex?!” He said, taken aback. “Am I seeing things? Is it really you? I gotta be dreaming, either that or all this cake is making me lose my marbles.”

I smirked. “I’m here, yours truly is at the dance, but don’t get used to it.”

Troy nodded and then peered out at the rest of the room. “Where’s Nicole, is she here too?”

“I don’t think so.”

“So, you didn’t ask her?” He asked in confusion. “I’d assumed she coaxed you into going after you told her I’d be here.”

Rats. I never told Nicole about the dance. It’d completely slipped my mind with everything going on. Whatever, she probably would’ve declined anyway.

“Yeah, I didn’t tell her.” I explained. “Don’t worry, she won’t care, not like she’s missing much.”

“Right,” Troy sighed but then quickly smirked. “So if not her, who swayed you into going? No way you decided on your own.”

“My Mom” I shot back.

He chuckled. “Ha. Ha. Not buying it.”

I stiffened then laid it all out. “Ok, the truth is… it’s this guy… Wes Freeman. He’s in one of my classes this year. Likes talking to me for some reason. He invited me the other day, so I decided to humor him.”

His eyes widened. “Wes? Yo that really the cat who coaxed you into it?”

“You know him?”

“Yeah, he was on my middle school basketball team and in a bunch of my classes last year.” He explained. “Seemed pretty chill and fun to partner with, don’t really know much else about him though.”

I nodded. If Troy liked him, Wes might actually be decent.

Looking back up, I noticed Troy had a sly grin. “So is he just a friend or…”

“No!” I promptly spat back, rolling my eyes. “He’s an “acquaintance” and that’s it. Now would you please pass me some cake?”

Troy playfully shook his head and continued smiling as he cut me two slices.

I gestured him goodbye to him and carried the slices back to where Wes was.

He was sitting by himself at a plastic table, with two red solo cups in front of him, he gave a quick wave as I started walking over.

“I saw you talking with Troy. You two friends?” Wes asked calmly, sliding my drink over to me as I sat down, while sipping his own.

I gave him a slight nod.

“Nice.” He answered, before calmly gazing out at the dance floor.

The floor was truly getting filled up now with numerous clusters of students excitedly bobbing and swaying under dim string lights and a couple of colored spotlights. The music had switched to some peppy top 40 song I vaguely knew but definitely hated. Everything about it screamed out like it was my own personal version of hell.

Wes popped a piece of cake in his mouth as he shifted his attention back to me.

“So, how’s tonight been so far?”

“The dance?”

“Yeah.”

“About what I expected,” I said, as I stabbed my desert with my fork. “Cake’s decent at least.”

Wes grinned, nudging the corner of my plate with his. “But you don’t totally hate it?”

I rolled my eyes, but there was a ghost of a smile on my lips. “God, you’re lucky I even showed up at all.”

“Trust me, I know.” He leaned back in his chair, relaxed in that way only he seemed capable of.

The song on the big speakers faded out and a new song immediately took its place. This one was synth heavy, it in turn was soon minutes later by a rock track, the rock one was soon by a country one and so on. This cycle continued countless times, until the DJ landed on a very specific and problematic song.

As soon as it’s super distinctive ska infused saxophone part kicked in, I was hit with a whole new dilemma.

See, I didn’t just know this song, I actually liked it.

“The Mighty Mighty Bosstones?” Wes observed. “Finally, a good tune!”

Oh great. He liked this song too.

Wes nervously tapped his fingers on the table for a second, before popping me the big question.

“Hey, do you uh… wanna get up and dance to it?”

I froze, almost spitting out my soda. A million thoughts and worries ran through my mind. It wasn’t just the pure awkwardness of dancing with a guy, it was the fear of making myself look like a complete doofus in front of everybody.

“No thanks.” I said, finally returning to my senses.

“You sure? You didn’t come here to just sit around and eat cake did you?”

“You’re crazy.” I answered unbudging.

“Come on, just this song.” He pressed on. “No one can resist jamming to this song, not even you. Look, you’re already bobbing your head and humming the lyrics…”

“Wes-“

“… and I betcha I’m a way worse dancer than you are, so what’s there to be scared of?”

I glared at him. I despised how he was right. I loathed how innocent he was in his request. God, even Nicole wasn’t this good at giving me a guilty conscience.

After taking a deep breath, I put my soda down.

“Just this song.” I unceremoniously relented, as I gave my cap a quick tug. “And don’t you dare think about laying a finger on me.”

Wes eagerly stood up and motioned to the floor. “Deal. Alright, let’s go.”

The walk over felt longer than it should’ve. Being anywhere near this foreign land made my pulse kick up.

My sneakers came to a screeching halt the second my right toe came into contact with the edge of the dance floor.

“Here. We’re doing your dumb dance here.” I insisted.

Wes shrugged. “Ok.”

Without further ado, he jumped into his routine, if you could call it that. It was a hectic, messy and sloppy set of moves with no rhyme or reason.

If that were me I’d be mortified, but for Wes, he was having the time of his life.

“C’mon, Alex! Join me!”

I indecisively hesitated, quickly scanning over at Troy who was nose deep in slicing cake for people and then at Tiffany who was lost in conversation with one of her friends.

They were busy, they were distracted, they couldn’t see me.

The coast was clear.

I stared back at Wes, who’s arms now were outstretched.

“What are you waiting for? You got this.”

Breathe in…

…and Exhale.

Slowly but surely, I started swaying my legs to the beat. I slightly bobbed my head and inched my arms out. It probably looked like I was playing with an invisible hula hoop, but the deed was done, for I’d become one with the music.

Wes didn’t snicker, didn’t look at me weird, instead he seemed enlightened, like he couldn’t be more ecstatic that I’d actually gone through with his challenge.

“Look at you go Al! You’re totally kickin’ ass!.”

I blushed and avoided eye contact with him, but there was no hiding my biggest smile of the night.

As we danced together, I gradually found myself becoming more lose and comfortable, letting myself jam out and even sing along with Wes to this Mighty Mighty Bosstones song. I did it all without a care in the world, without a hint of anxiety.

But then, of course, the next song hit.

The opening notes landed like a smack in the face: long, drawn out piano chords and gentle acoustic guitar strums were followed by some southern accented country singer crooning about “forever” and “never letting go.”

As if on cue, a bunch of couples locked hands, including Tiff and that Joey guy Wes mentioned earlier, and started closely swaying with each other.

Soon enough, me and Wes were the only ones standing by ourselves.

Wes nervously glanced down at me. I anxiously looked up at him.

He started moving one of his arms in my direction.

Oh my god. Nooooo!

Just as I was about to run for my life, Wes’s arm stopped next to my left shoulder, then he raised his index finger, outstretching it in the direction behind me.

“Uh…” He said, with uncomfortableness in his voice. “Should we go back to-

“Yes. Yes and YES!” I frantically cut in, already halfway back to our table.

Sitting back down, my face felt hot, I wasn’t sure if it was from wiggling out of potential embarrassment or the fact that a small part of me had briefly entertained eating the forbidden fruit.

Wes flopped down across from me, drumming his fingers against his empty cake plate. “Oof! That was a close call, huh?”

“No kidding.” I remarked as I continued to sink into my seat. “Good thing no one saw us.”

He snorted. “You looked like a deer in the headlights.”

“Hey, don’t pretend you weren’t as uncomfortable as I was out there!”

“Heh, maybe, maybe not…” Wes said, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m still calling this win, though. I got you to dance, didn’t I? I think I deserve a medal for that.”

I rolled my eyes, but with a hint of a grin. “Don’t push it.”

We didn’t talk for a little while after that. But it wasn’t awkward or tense. It was the sort of silence that settled instead of stretched as the slow romantic song seemed to drag on for eternity.

Thankfully, the music shifted again, this time to the classic song that was the bane of all school dances, “Y.M.C.A.”

A group of frat-like juniors formed a circle and started doing something halfway between dancing and competitive flailing.

Wes to note as well. “Wanna hop back over?”

“I’d rather eat my solo cup.”

He leaned back and laughed out loud in his chair. “I was partly joking. Hey, you know, if you’re thinking of leaving soon, I’d be okay with it.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“You sure?”

He nodded solemnly. “Whenever this song comes on, it’s usually a sign that the dance is about to wrap up soon. It’s the assistant principal’s favorite song so the school staff always requests that the DJ save it till near the end.”

“Jeez, that’s so corny.” I muttered, hiding a smirk behind my cup.

He looked at me again, like he wanted to say something else. But instead, he said, “Hey, Alex before you go, I just wanted to say thanks again for actually coming. I really appreciate it.”

I gave a small shrug as I got up from my chair. “Thanks for asking.”

“You’re welcome. So much for dances not being your thing, right? This wasn’t the worst night of your life, was it?”

And somehow, that last line made me want to say more. Do more. Maybe be more, just for one second.

So I took the smallest, bravest leap my brain would allow.

“Hey, it was far from it because of… well… you.” I said, glancing at my friend, my voice gentle before catching myself. “I’ll uh… see you in calculus.”

“Yeah, totally.” he said with a crooked smile and a parting hand wave. “Looking forward to it, Al.”

With that, I sent Mom a text, letting her know I needed to be picked up, before heading out to the fieldhouse exit, and back through the same double doors I’d entered through earlier. The music faded as I wandered back outside.

I sat down on nearby a bench, and waited. The parking lot was mostly deserted, just a few scattered taillights and the sound of wind billowing through the trees littered around the campus. I checked my phone. No new messages. No response from Mom. Not one hint about who’d pick me up.

Ten minutes passed. Maybe twelve.

Just as I was about to place an irritated phone call, a familiar white BMW pulled around the corner before coming to a rest at my feet. The passenger side window rolled down half-way, revealing a worn and stoic figure.

“Hey kid.”

“Hey.”

Seems Mom had tasked Dad with picking me up.

“Get in.”

Needing to hear no more, I climbed into the car. The radio was tuned to some A.M. station, and the car vents whistled, but I didn’t complain. I was just happy to be done waiting.

“How was it?” he asked as we pulled out of the lot.

I shrugged, looking out the window. “Fine.”

“Do anything fun?”

“Not really, I just stuck around with Troy.” I added after a beat. “Other than that it was pretty boring, if Junior prom next year is anything like tonight, I’ll probably skip out on it like Sam did.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Hmph. Seems a little extreme. Sorry kid, but unlike with Sam, I don’t think your mother’s gonna allow that to happen.”

“We’ll see.” I muttered.

When we pulled into the driveway, the living room light was still on, which wasn’t a good thing because it meant Mom was still awake, waiting for her turn to debrief me.

And sure enough, as soon I stepped through the front door, I spotted her standing at the foot of the stairs sipping some earl grey tea.

“Welcome home,” Mom said. “How was the dance, Alex?”

I shrugged again, trying in vain to get through this and up the stairs to my room as quickly as possible.

“It was fine.”

Mom clearly wasn’t buying it. “Just fine? Is that it? Are you really not gonna elaborate or share any details?”

I groaned, placing my hand on the banister. “It’s just a school dance, Mom. Nothing to write home about.”

But Mom still wasn’t backing down easily. The blissful gleam in her eye always signaled trouble.

“Oh, come on. You don’t go to a dance for the first time in forever and then come home saying it was “just fine.” Did you dance with anyone? Who was there? How was the music? Were there any cute boys?”

Ugh! Mom and boys.

Rule number 1 when chatting with Mom:

NEVER talk about boys.

“Mom, Seriously, I’m tired. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

She sighed, her expression shifting slightly. “I’m just curious, honey. I’m your mother. God forbid I ever get to hear what’s going on in your life. I was also a teenage girl once, you know!”

“Well, nothing notable happened, okay?” I muttered, already half to my room, eager to wrap up this conversation. “I went, I said hi to Troy, I ate cake, I danced a little, and then I came home. End of story.”

I reached the knob of my bedroom door, but just as I thought I was in the clear, mom’s voice called after me for one last word.

“Hey one last thing, I’m proud of you. Going out of your comfort zone is no small feat. You should be proud of yourself too.”

“Thanks.”

She nodded. “Night, sweetie.”

I paused as I opened my door. The word sweetie used to make me cringe. Tonight, it didn’t bother me so much.

“Night, Mom.”

Door closed. Cap off and on the dresser. Lights dimmed. I flopped onto my bed and pulled the covers up high. My heart was buzzing in that weird leftover way, as if it was still fending for its life back at the field house.

I laid awake in bed for a while, staring up at the glow in the dark stars still stuck to my ceiling from 1st grade. Most of them didn’t glow anymore. Some were peeling and a couple had fallen off entirely. But the ones that stayed, they were still there, stubborn and resilient. Kind of like me.

Everything about tonight with Wes felt like it should’ve shaken me up more than it did. Dancing? With a boy? At a school function? Actually liking it. Actually liking… him. Middle School Alex would’ve punched me in the face for such sinful malarkey.

Something important had happened, and I didn’t know how to say it out loud yet.