7. Teddy #2
A clown and a princess clink their clear plastic cups, laughing as they drink.
Click.
A swirl of skirts, fabric catching the light as bodies turn and shift.
Click.
A flash of a purple mask adorned with feathers, something bright enough to burn for a second before it’s gone.
Click.
And then… I see her.
She’s not centered. Not posed. Not trying.
Which is exactly why I can’t look away. She moves like she forgot anyone else is here. The music belongs to her, and she choreographed the dance with reckless abandon.
Laughing, her head tipped back, hands tangled with the woman beside her, spinning, stumbling, not caring when it goes wrong.
No hesitation. No performance. Just complete abandon.
She’s authentic, unfiltered, unselfconscious as she moves.
I bring the camera up without thinking. Again, I don’t bother framing the shot.
I just point my camera in her direction and click.
The bright, blinding flash goes off. Impossible to ignore. It cuts straight through the dark. I forgot to switch the flash off.
Fuck!
Her head snaps toward me, big blue eyes locking on me.
At first with shock, then suspicion. My stomach drops, and recognition hits a split second later.
It’s her. Dannica, the woman from the diner.
Of course it’s her. Why wouldn’t it be? The universe has a sense of humor and I’m the punchline.
Good thing I came in the right costume. I lower the camera slowly, already knowing there’s no pretending that didn’t just happen. She’s moving toward me. Purposefully.
“Did you just take my picture?”
Up close, she’s—yeah, there’s no finishing that thought in a way that doesn’t make me sound like an idiot.
Even with the mask, even with the flush high on her cheeks and the slight hitch in her breathing, she looks celestial.
I scrape a hand through my hair. Jesus! See what I mean? Should’ve stopped while I was ahead.
She stops just short of me, not crowding, but not giving me much space either.
Close enough that I can feel the heat coming off her, the faint scent of something sweet and warm.
Sugar, maybe? Or whatever she’d been drinking.
One hand settles on her hip, the other still loose at her side.
Her fingers twitch, like they’re still keeping time to the beat.
I hope that’s why they’re twitching and not that she’s about to slug me.
Her chest rises and falls a little too fast. Not panicked. Just… aware. She looks at me, head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing just enough to say she’s trying to figure me out.
She doesn’t seem angry. More curious, and maybe a little wary. I find myself somewhat relieved that she would have this reaction to a stranger taking her picture. Sometimes small-town folks are less wary of strangers than they should be.
A beat stretches between us as the music continues.
People shift around us, bodies brushing past, the space closing and opening again.
For some reason, I don’t step back. My feet stay planted as I wait to see what she’ll do next.
She doesn’t move, doesn’t leave. Which is my cue to do exactly that.
I should walk away. I didn’t come here for the crowd, the noise.
I definitely didn’t come here to get pulled into something I can’t control, something I don’t understand yet.
Something that already feels a little too easy to step into.
Absolutely not. My grip tightens slightly on the camera strap. I should go.
I don’t.
I clear my throat, because apparently that’s all I’ve got right now. She stares at me expectantly, and I remember she asked me a question.
“Yeah,” I admit. “I did.” No point lying.
Her brows lift slightly, just a flicker, but it’s enough. This is when I expect the explosion. But it doesn’t come. No outrage, no annoyance. She does, however, look surprised. Clearly, she expected a deflection or an outright lie.
“Telling the truth, good strategy.”
“I figured honesty might work in my favor.”
There’s a twinkle of mischief in her eye and my fingers twitch to take the shot. “That’s debatable.”
I smile, shifting the camera strap on my shoulder, suddenly hyper-aware of how this looks. I’m a guy, wearing a mask, taking pictures without asking. Exactly the kind of person people don’t trust. To be honest, I wouldn’t either.
“Sorry,” I say, meaning it. “First harvest festival. I didn’t—” I gesture vaguely toward the tent. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just… a lot.”
Not a lie. Just not the whole truth.
Her gaze flicks past me, tracking the movement and chaos I just pointed at. Then she settles on me again, her expression softening.
“Yeah,” she says. “It is.”
There’s a beat. It’s not awkward, just quiet.
Something shifts in her eyes, her pupils dilating just slightly and for a second, I wonder if she recognizes me from the diner. If she does, she doesn’t say it. So, I don’t mention it either.
“Do you want me to delete it?” I ask, holding out my camera for her to do with as she wishes with the image. She hesitates for a barely there flicker but I catch it.
Then…
“No,” she says. “It’s fine.”
Relief settles low in my chest. It’s not unexpected, though it does feel slightly unnecessary. Why would her wanting to delete her photo bother me?
The music slows to something softer and smoother, sliding into place where the chaos was a second ago. Couples start forming almost immediately, like it’s reflex. Or is it expectation? Maybe a bit of both.
A woman comes over to us, large, round spectacles making her look owlish. Red hair highlights the freckles dotting her face.
“Ow—” she states, suddenly hopping on one foot. “There’s a rock in my shoe. I am being personally victimized by this festival.”
Dannica laughs, reaching for her. “C’mon, Shelly, do you want me to?—”
“Nope!” Shelly cuts in brightly, already backing away on two perfectly fine feet. “You two keep my spot warm. I’ll be right back.”
And then she’s gone. Just… gone.
Like that wasn’t deliberate, leaving the two of us standing there with music undeniably meant for a slow dance.
I blink once.
Twice.
As if that’s going to change what’s happening, because surely I’m not imagining the set up.
No. No, that did just happen.
I glance at Dannica, and she looks just as caught off guard.
Good, not just me, then.
I clear my throat again, shifting my weight, the strap of the camera once more pressing into my shoulder like it’s reminding me this isn’t what I came here for.
It doesn’t matter. I do the only thing that makes any kind of sense in a moment that makes none.
I extend my hand, slow and deliberate. “May I have this dance?”