My Alternate Ending

I twirled ‘round and ‘round, liking the flashes and streaks of color that came from clothes, faces, and lights as I whirled past them. I like the feeling of my friend’s laughs ringing in my ears, and the feel of my skirt whooshing around my knees, sliding against my tights.

I liked the feeling of knowing that he was watching me.

So, I twirled ‘round and ‘round faster, and I liked the flashes and streaks of color more, and I liked the feeling of my friend’s laughs ringing in my ears more, and I just couldn’t get over the feel of my skirt whooshing around my knees.

And, I loved the feeling of knowing that he was watching me.

I grinned even before I titled my head over, feeling more and more like I was light enough to lift off the ground. That was the feeling I’d been missing and hadn’t even fully realized I’d been missing. The feeling of a sort of power or intuition that came from not really knowing, but somehow still knowing that he was probably feeling the same way right at the same moment. The feeling that comes when you notice he has the same goofy grin plastered on his face, and the same feeling that made me feel like I could stand in the middle of the greasy cafeteria floor, listening to bad music, and sweating up a storm in my Batgirl outfit and never, ever, want one, tiny, miniscule moment of it to change.

It was a good feeling, that’s my point.

The thrumming pattern of the music slowed then, and, still, we were grinning. The first few ringing guitar chords filtered through the not-so-crowded room, signaling the beginning of a slow song. People paired off like a high-speed game of musical chairs, minus the chair and plus people of the opposite gender. And, there we stood, just staring, smiles plastered on our faces like they’d been drawn there with permanent marker. We walked over towards each other, and it was so much like the ending scene from a classic ‘80s movie that I laughed out loud. Then, with a few more steps, we were close enough that I could reach out my hand and tug on his sleeve, biting my lip.

The song grew louder, as if urging us on, wanting him to just reach out and put his hands on my waist, or aching for me to lift my hands up and lock them around his neck. And, as both of us awkwardly (it’s always sort of awkward with him, part of why I like him, I guess) turned towards each other, searching with our eyes to find the perfect place and moment to finally just touch each other…

I have a theory, well, it’s more of a hypothesis, I guess, but I frequently use it in everyday life: the minute you think you have one area of your life tied up all neat and nice (in this case, the supposed affections of a certain freshman boy), something will invariably happen that sends you right back to square flipping one. Or close enough to make you feel like throwing the whole deal out the window.

It sucks no matter what, but the level of suck-age is kicked up to eleven when the straw that broke the camel’s back, or, more fittingly, shattered the moment for the teenage girl, just happens to be something that you didn’t even think to expect.

Then, not only is it crushing, it’s also surprising.

Surprisingly crushing, not my favorite words to describe anything.

“Heeyyyyy!!! You wanna dance?” A girl stepped up beside us, eyeing him like he already belonged to her, and like we hadn’t been standing together, wrapped up tight in our own little bubble, .5 milliseconds ago. Until now, I hadn’t even let the idea of a different girl cross my mind. I’m a pretty logical and straight-thinking young woman, and I just can’t fathom liking someone this much, and not having them like me back. I can usually recognize a lost cause when I see one, in any case.

“Uh…” He said, glancing at me before looking at her, shifting his feet in the same awkward way that had drawn me to him in the first place. “I don’t think so… sorry.” I took a step back, allowing her the extra room I would have wanted to complete my walk of shame with just a tiny bit more dignity. But, she looked at my inch and took a foot, stepping in front of me.

“Oh, come on, what’s it gonna hurt?” Who was this girl? A freshman, that much was obvious, maybe they were friends? Downside of liking a guy younger than you: you have no clue who all these people are he talks to. I guess it’s the same though, liking a girl who’s older than you, you don’t really get that all the guys she talk to are just that… guys. Not boys she’s interested in and not people she’s ever been interested in.

“No, I really don’t think so…” He said, ducking his head and fidgeting in a way I would have thought was cute any other time. It wasn’t doing much for me at that particular moment though.

She stalked towards him, and I stood back and watched, letting him fight his own battle, a small smile playing around my lips. Even in my current state of wallowing misery, I could see the potential for hilarity in that spot of time. He backed up, shaking his head and gesturing his hands wildly; couldn’t this girl get a hint? He did not want to dance with her!

Just at the exact moment I had decided that he had played the “damsel in distress” long enough, he, with a shake of his head, dropped his hands to her waist, barely touching them, and swayed back and forth like a clock’s pendulum, slow and steady and nowhere near being with the beat of the song.

Ah. So, this wasn’t our dance, apparently.

I turned on my heel, my shoeless feet searching for just a bit of purchase on the slick floor, and pulled one of my friends that, thankfully, were never too far away at crucial moments like these, towards me and swayed to the song. Swaying my hips and moving my body in a way that made his super-choreographed routine look pathetic, I chanced a glance at him, trying to look like I wasn’t really looking at all.

And he was glancing back. That feeling was back, but it was mixed with a huge kick of jealousy. He should just kick that girl to the curb and spin me away and into his arms, even if we’d probably fall in the process.

Freshman boys just didn’t get it.

So, I smiled, and waved, and the turned back to my friend, being the poster girl for acting nonchalantly. The song ended, and I assumed my misery would be short-lived. I could handle one dance, I was an understanding person.

Two was probably asking a little much.

A new song started, slower than the previous one, and as I bit back my groan, I flicked a quick look over towards him, and there he was, still swaying along with that girl! (From that moment on, she’d always be branded “That Girl” in my mind and the minds of my closest friends.)

I walked, very coolly, off of the dance-floor, and over to the refreshment stand. Once I grabbed my beverage of choice, Root Beer if you were wondering, I skipped my way over to the ever-present group of girls that always seems to pop up during slow-dances. From afar, the image may look a tiny bit pathetic, a huge group of girls, dancing with each other rather than a guy, singing and screaming the lyrics of the song for no good reason. (And it always turned out to be an achingly sappy love song.)But, I always looked at it as something different, most of these girls could have had a dance if they’d really wanted one, they just weren’t going to settle. It was a matter of choice, as a lot of things are. I’d always been glad to shimmy and slide my way into the middle, that’s for sure.

The torture was finally over, doesn’t it always feel like they pick the longest, most drawn out, depressing unless you have a significant other, song to play right when you just want them to start playing an upbeat, bass-heavy song that you can just get out there and bounce along to? But, it was over, and he soon found his way back over towards me, that helped my ego a bit.

I’m not one to hold grudges, so I let the dance-issue go, didn’t even bring it up. We spent the better part of half-an-hour just bouncing around, shaking and spinning around in a way that probably had lots of people questioning our sanity, and we were never, ever, close to being on beat.

Have you ever heard that expression “They dance to the beat of their own drums?” Well, we were pretty much dancing to the beat of our own randomness, it felt good too. And THE FEELING was back full-force, without any other minor feelings blocking it.

Then, just like I knew it would eventually, the music slowed again. It felt even slower to me, like it was reaching my ears after it had been drug through a desert, and the music was just plain tired. Every note vibrated through the room.

He looked at me again, and I raised one eyebrow. He cocked his head to the side, and slid his feet back and forth. His nonverbals were coming in pretty clear, at least to me.

I smiled again, surprised I hadn’t gone numb, it seemed like I’d been doing it so much tonight. He reached out one hand, and I took it, flexing my fingers around his hand slowly.

And just like that, I had my dance.

Well, technically, we had our dance.