Sway

Vivi had never laughed so much in her life. Round and round they went around the dance floor, twirling and stepping and waltzing to the strains of a fiddle that pierced the night. The air was smoky and the neon lights twinkled like stars. The people's faces blurred around her as stared into Wade's soft blue eyes.

He was a good dancer, she thought to herself as he spun her around the wooden boards smoothed by generations of waltzing boots. Her cheeks flushed as he wrapped a strong arm around her back and dipped her so low to the ground she could see the boots of the singer on the stage.

She giggled, her eyes flying over the bemused faces watching them. He pulled her upright with a flourish and into another dance as the steel guitar and fiddles eased into a slow song. They swayed back and forth, her head so close to his shoulder she could feel the heat from it, smell the cologne on his shirt. His large rough hand covered her small one as they stepped across the floor.

"I'm glad you came," he said, his voice so low she could barely hear it over the band.

"I am too," she said, smiling. "This is much more fun than my ballet classes."

Wade twirled her around, whipping her around the floor before pulling her back into a waltz. "I can tell you're a dancer."

She snorted and tossed her reddish-blond girls. "I've been dancing all my life," she said wryly, a edge to her voice. "I've had to." He said nothing, but she could feel the words building at the edge of her teeth. They tumbled out, wrapping around them as they swayed to the music. "My mother was a dancer when she was young, and my father was born into the ballet world. My grandfather was one of the best ballet dancers in Russia. I've been dancing as long as I can remember. But you know"--

She knew she was babbling now, but she couldn't stop herself. She had never been relaxed, this content. The more they swayed, the more the words poured out of her. "I always thought dancing was work, you know? I thought it took discipline, character, work. Girls in my classes don't smile when they twirl. They worry about how their feet look, how their arms were, if they had the right turnout. And when I watched the people here dance--they looked so happy. So free." He twirled her again. "Do you know what I mean?"

He stayed silent for a moment. Then his blue eyes twinkled as he looked down at her. "I'm not a very cultured fellow," he said in his thick drawl. "But darling, there ain't no point in doing what doesn't make you happy. Sure, we all work. But if you're not dancing because you want to, then why dance at all?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. For all the books and therapists she had been to over the years, no one had explained it as perfectly as he had. She glanced down and saw the neon light flickering on the face of her watch. When she saw the number on the face, she gasped.

"Oh no!" she cried, jerking out of his arms. "I've got to go! It's past eleven. And it's a school night! Oh God, my parents are going to kill me." She ran her fingers through her curls and bit her lip. Trying not to smile, Wade walked her off the dance floor. He grabbed her bag from the man he had tossed it from and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the crowded bar.

"Do you need some dinner?" the large, pigtailed woman Wade had called Hilda bellowed from behind the bar. "Honey, I can get you some fried chicken and macaroni. Wade, you want anything?"

He looked at her questioningly. She shook her head, knowing her ballet teacher could spot a fried chicken leg a mile away. Her stomach rumbled, but she ignored it. "No thanks," she said.

Wade winked at Hilda. "Just pack up some of that pecan pie for me, and I'll be back for a burger," he said. "I'm walking Vivi to her car."

"Good boy," Hilda said approvingly. She scuttled back to the kitchen, hollering orders and bellowing curses about one-eyed snakes and the cooks being dumber than a turkey in the rain.

Outside, the night air was cool. The streets were silent, lit only by the stars overhead. Away from the calm of the dance hall, Vivi felt embarrassed.

"You don't have to walk me home," she said. Wade snorted.

"Darling, what makes you think I'll let you run around here at night with a bunch of drunks coming out of a dance hall?" he asked, draping his arm around her shoulders. "Besides, I get a few more minutes with you this way."

She blushed. "Do you always hang out here?" she asked, trying to think of something to say.

Wade nodded. "Yup," he said. "You could say it's the family business."

Vivi pointed to a white car in the parking lot. "That's my car," she said. Her eyes widened and she jerked his hand. Dashing over behind the dance building, she tugged Wade over the sidewalk and plastered herself to the cement building.

"Is this a new dance?" he asked, trying not to smile.

"My dad's in the parking lot," Vivi hissed. "Looking for me. If he sees me, I can never dance with you again." Her face flamed red. Why did she say that? He probably danced with a different girl every week.

He nodded. "Well, that's a problem," Wade said. "And I know how to fix it."

to be continued....