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Kendall saunters over and yells in my ear, “Hey, Joe, I’m throwing a Jacuzzi party next Friday after the dance. Do you want to come?” That’s the only way to talk to someone with a loud band playing in the background.
I nod and lean in close so he can hear me, then yell back, “Yeah. Sounds fun. What do you want me to bring?”
“Dude, yourself, and if you can, some strawberries.”
I nod again and give Kendall a thumbs up.
Just about every Friday night, there’s a dance somewhere in Southern California for us young adults. That’s one of the perks of belonging to a big church with a vast network of single adults. I only resumed attending the dances about six months ago. Before that, I was in Africa on a mission, helping build homes and teaching the locals the concepts of Christianity. Getting back into the daily life of a single guy has been weird, but I think I’m adjusting well.
Standing off to the side with my back against the wall, I catch myself tapping my foot to the beat of the music. I’ve asked a few girls to dance tonight, but for the most part, I’ve been a wallflower. There is this one girl I’ve been watching, though. She’s way out of my league, so I’ve been hesitant to approach her. Of course, it doesn’t help that I’ve never met her…in fact, I don’t think I’ve seen her before.
Leaning close to Kendall, I yell, “Who’s that girl in the white pants and red boots?”
Kendall glances around the room and gestures that he doesn’t know who I’m talking about, so I casually point in her direction. As far as I can tell, she’s danced to every song, and I don’t think with the same person twice…except for another girl, who I assume is her friend because they’ve been sticking close to each other.
Kendall nods when he sees who I’m asking about. “Christina Griffin. She doesn’t usually come to the dances, so I’m surprised she’s here.”
I nod.
Her boots have a good three-inch heel, making her height match my own. Her pants are tight–not something we usually see at church dances. When she shakes her hips, my groin rumbles. That isn’t a good thing. Being a twenty-three-year-old virgin, it doesn’t take much to get me going.
Our religion teaches us that we can’t have sex before marriage, so it’s assumed that all of us here are virgins. It’s even taught that we shouldn’t stimulate our private parts. I’m not very good at keeping that rule. Of course, it helps to not think about sex, but when I see Christina dancing…well, evil and lustful ideas fill my head. I guess I’ll be back in the minister’s office on Sunday, confessing my lurid thoughts. He’s pretty cool about it and gives me suggestions on keeping my mind pure and clean…which helps a little.
The music stops, and the band announces they are taking a break. My ears ring as the quiet emerges.
In a hushed tone, I lean into Kendall and ask, “So what’s her story? Why haven’t I seen her around before?”
“She’s been on tour.”
“Tour?”
“Yeah. She’s Miss Burbank and has to travel around to represent the city. I think she also entered the Miss California pageant, but I’m not sure. She does that along with being a full-time student at UCLA.”
“Wow!” I exclaim.
Christina is the pinnacle of beauty, and it doesn’t surprise me that she is Miss Burbank. Her long, dark hair flows to the middle of her back, with loose curls around her face and shoulders. In this light, it’s difficult to tell what shade of brown it is, but it doesn’t really matter because it’s perfect for her. In addition, she has a healthy tan that tells me she spends a lot of time outside.
When she turns to look at me, my heart quickens, and my palms sweat. Then she and her friend begin to walk in my direction. I stand a little straighter and take a deep breath. The closer she gets, the harder my heart pounds. I’m a little relieved and a lot disappointed when she passes by me without even a glance.
Standing in front of Kendall she asks, “Hey, have you seen Denise around?”
Kendall cranes his neck and looks around. Then, pointing off to our right, he answers, “Uh, yeah…over there.”
“Cool. Thanks,” she says as they walk away.
Denise is Kendall’s girlfriend. They’ve been going out for about a year now. Word on the street is they’re planning to get married, but he hasn’t said anything like that to me, so I don’t bring it up.
“Who’s the chick with Christina?” I ask.
“Huh? Oh, that’s Aimee. Those two are inseparable. If you see one of them, the other is close by…guaranteed.”
“Awkward,” I jest.
“I guess. Hey, are you interested in Christina? Why don’t you ask her to dance?”
“Me? Are you kidding? No way she’d dance with me.”
I’m not exactly what you’d call a hunk. I lost weight in Africa, so I’m one-forty instead of my usual hundred and seventy-five pounds. I’ve been pounding the Tommy’s and In-n-Out burgers to try and get my weight back, but it hasn’t made a difference. I guess it doesn’t help that I’m six-one. I’ve always been thin; nothing has changed that no matter what I’ve tried. I’ve worked out, taken pills that are supposed to help you gain weight and even tried a few different protein powders. Nothing seems to help.
“You don’t know till you ask,” Kendall reminds me. “Besides, when did you get shy around girls?”
When did I get shy? I’ve always been shy, but there have been times when I’ve pushed through it to get to know a girl I was attracted to.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“Dude, you’re the epitome of cool.”
“Me? That’s an exaggeration if I’ve ever heard one.”
“Whatever. Not only do I think she’ll dance with you, but I’d be willing to bet that she’d go out with you too.”
“Bet? You know I don’t bet.”
“It’s just a figure of speech, Joe. Don’t get all literal on me.”
“So, you’re trying to tell me that Miss Burbank, who goes to UCLA, will go out with me…a part-time community college student who works at a bank. You’re nuts.”
“Whatever. I think you should go for it. Quit being a wallflower and get out there.”
I wouldn’t mind dancing with her, that’s for sure. A nice slow dance…no…wait…she’ll feel my…thing…It’ll have to be a fast dance.
Leaning over to Kendall, I say in a low tone, “Okay…I’ll ask her to dance, but if she shoots me down, you owe me big time.”
“Deal. I’ll pay for your meal at Bob’s if she says no.”
Bob’s is an all-night diner where we hang out after the dances. The poor waitresses have to deal with twenty to thirty of us as we pile in to grab some late-night food and socialize.
“Deal.”
The band is back on the stage and warming up their instruments, so I make my way toward Christina to ask her to dance…before someone else beats me to it. She and Aimee are standing next to Denise, heavy in conversation.