May 2 – Nimble
Words – 498
I Don’t Dance (Or Do I?)
By Josh McMullen
“Hi…I’m Brooke,” the strange girl in front of Ethan said, extending her hand. “Would you like to dance? With me, I mean…”
He didn’t; at least, he didn’t think he’d make a very good dance partner. Ethan had always been kind of clumsy, tripping over air at every opportunity. Matter of fact, he didn’t even know why he was really here.
“Please?” Brooke said, her big brown eyes seemingly getting bigger. “I’ve been watching you all night, and you look so sad…”
“So you asked me to make me feel better?” Ethan said, looking down at his shoes. “Look, I’m not exactly the most graceful person in the world and I don’t really dance, either. There’s got to be…”
He looked up to Brooke staring at him, a shy smile on her face. He had to admit, the smattering of freckles on her face that made her look beautiful, like stars in the night sky. “So what?” she said. “I like to dance, so maybe we’d…even each other out or something?” She laughed slightly, flipping her hair, which flew through the air like a dirty blonde rainbow.
Ethan shrugged in resignation, then took her hand and followed her to the dance floor. Brooke was absolutely right: she liked to dance, and her nimble moves all over the floor amazed Ethan. She seemed to float all over the dance floor, as if her dress concealed wings under it. She even managed to teach Ethan a thing or two; By the end of their first song together, he went from stumblebum to quite nimble himself, at least at that moment, spinning Brooke all the way across the dance floor and with a flick of his wrist (a move Brooke had whispered in his ear just seconds before) made it look like he had her on a fishing line.
However, Ethan froze when the music began to slow down. Sure, being a klutz was fine when the music was fast, but he would be totally exposed when she asked him (and she wasn’t going to just shy away now). Sure enough, as he stood there frozen, he felt Brooke’s hand in his, just as he did when she first introduced herself. It was soft and warm, like a small pillow that seemed to be made just for his hand.
Brooke looked up at him, a hopeful smile on her face.
“This is my favorite song,” she said quietly. He stood in front of her, terrified. Sensing his anxiety (which could probably be seen from space, Ethan figured), she pulled on his arm, putting one hand on her hip and holding his other hand while she draped her arm around hers. They swayed through several slow chords, and with each note that was played, he felt her getting closer until finally, she was hugging him with a smile on her face.
“See?” she whispered. “You can dance.”
And now that he could, with her at his side, he didn’t want to stop.