Chapter 23 Audrey #3
The DJ is the typical annoying type—too loud, too much clichéd chatter (“All right, all right, all right, happy twenty-fifth reunion, Bobcats!”).
He plays songs from our era, some cringey, some classics.
Then Derek is standing, holding out his hand.
“Can I have the pleasure?” he asks, and I realize he’s asking me to dance.
“Oh! Yes! Thank you,” I say, and Micah and Jasmine and Beck are all being very casual.
Derek leads me onto the dance floor. The DJ is playing “Kiss from a Rose,” and the floor is populated with former classmates and bored spouses.
“I didn’t ask if you’re married,” Derek says, his mouth close to my ear. Warm tingles shimmer down my neck.
“At the moment, yes,” I say, looking up at him. “But we’re separating very soon.”
“Is that right,” he murmurs. “Text me sometime, if you want.”
We dance for another song, and then the music becomes faster and people are less restrained than earlier.
Someone who should not be twerking is twerking, and I wince and laugh.
The Core Four is suddenly together, and we laugh and spin and dance with each other and sing along, and I feel so happy.
Micah can dance like a stripper and doesn’t hold back, and James is laughing and applauding.
Derek is on the fringe of our circle, smiling.
Stephen spins me, and the colors swirl together.
Jasmine is working her long red dress, and Beck has the DJ’s mic and is singing along with Salt-N-Pepa’s “Whatta Man” and everyone is laughing because she always did that back then.
I want to hold this moment. Everyone I love is here, and I’m so happy, but the fog is coming for me. The music starts to muffle and I stumble a little. Micah moves closer and puts her arm around me, but I can feel the panic rising. I’m losing it. I’m falling into that hole.
I know I’m at a party, but whose, I don’t know.
I edge away, off the dance floor. I’m wearing uncomfortable shoes and a white dress.
Is this my wedding? Where are we? Who’ll take care of me if I get lost?
Where is Stephen? I can’t see him. Someone offers me a drink, and I turn away fast, afraid they’re going to drug me.
A man catches me by the shoulders. “You okay?” he asks, looking right into my eyes.
“Yes,” I say, but my voice is a little high.
“You look so pretty,” he says, and I feel my fear subside a little. “Let’s have a dance, what do you say?”
I like his voice. “Okay,” I say. I try to place him and come up empty, but that’s all right.
The man holds me just right, and he smells nice, too.
My panic subsides, my heart rate slows. Then suddenly, it’s like I can’t see past him.
My heart thuds, and it occurs to me that I like this guy.
I’m feeling him—isn’t that what the kids say?
Wait. Kids. Do I have kids? How do I know what they say?
The man holds me a little closer. “You sure look beautiful,” he says.
“So do you,” I say, and he laughs a little, low and sooty, and I feel a low, hot squeeze in my stomach.
“Glad you think so.” He twirls me—he’s a good dancer—and the song is slow and sexy.
I can picture the lead singer of the band—he’s ugly and also kind of hot, with a too-wide smile, a lot of ribbons around the mic.
Aerosmith, that’s it. Steven Tyler doesn’t want to miss a thing.
I remember that, but not who is standing in front of me.
Tears sting my eyes because I don’t want to miss anything, either.
I want to stay in the moment forever, like the song says.
My whole body throbs with yes, with sadness and attraction that make me lean into my date.
“I love this song,” he says, brushing my hair with his fingertips.
“Me, too,” I say. Is he my date? I hope so. Because even though I’m not sure where I am, I like this man so much.
“If I could stop time,” he says, “I’d stop it right here.”
God. It’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said. I look up into his eyes, and I see that he feels it, too, this attraction between us. It’s thrilling, and somehow, even though it feels like I’m about to step out of an airplane and hope my parachute works, I also feel . . . safe.
He bends to kiss me, and my lips part in anticipation, my heart thudding so hard my whole body shakes with it.
But he kisses my cheek instead, then gives my ear a little nuzzle.
“This feels right,” I whisper, and he smiles.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Then he does kiss me, and his mouth is warm and giving.
I sink into the kiss, sliding my arms around his waist. It doesn’t matter that I can’t remember his name.
All the feelings I haven’t had in so long rush to the surface, and I’m so grateful, so happy that I get to feel this way again, no matter who he is.
My whole body pulses, and no matter what I don’t know at this moment, I do know one thing: I want him.
“You wanna get out of here?” I ask, and with that, he leads me off the dance floor and out into the cool, velvety darkness.