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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.
As I approach them, Denise tosses her head to acknowledge me. “Hey, Joe. How are you?” she asks.
“Good. Thanks,” I reply. Christina and Aimee look at me. Thankfully, Aimee is on the far side of the group, so I don’t have to go around her. Looking into Christina’s eyes, I say, “Uhm…the band is back…would you like to dance?”
“Uh…yeah…sure. Give me a minute, though, okay?”
“Uhm…sure.” I take a few steps back and turn away to give her the privacy she’s asked for.
The band begins to play, and thankfully it’s a fast song. Someone touches my shoulder, so I turn around…It’s Christina. I take her hand and lead her onto the dance floor, where we begin our gyrations. I’ve always been a confident dancer. My favorite thing to do is swing…or disco, as it was called in the ’70s. The band’s playing a song with a good beat, so I take Christina by the hand and swing her around. She seems game, so I put my moves into action, and we take over the dance floor…well, not literally, but the couples around us give us space to have some fun. When the song ends, I thank her for the dance, and we part ways.
Crud! I didn’t introduce myself; I silently scold myself. I’ll have to ask her to dance again so I can do that.
Going back to the same patch of the wall I’ve been holding up all night, I watch the crowd. A girl I’ve never seen before walks over and asks me to dance, so we go onto the floor. She wants to swing too, so I take both of her hands and go to town. She has a huge smile on her face as we dance, and when the song is over, she leans into me and introduces herself.
“I’m Sarah.”
“I’m Joe. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I love the way you dance. Can we dance another one?”
“Of course.”
We end up dancing the rest of the night together, even the slow songs. Afterward, I tell her how much fun I had and that it was nice to meet her. Her face tells me that she’s expecting more, so I ask for her number. She smiles and gives it to me before we say goodnight.
I went to the dance alone, and that’s how I’m leaving. Sliding into my Subaru WRX, I start it up and head over to Bob’s. I’m not the first one to arrive, but I don’t know the others there, so I grab the first empty booth and sit down. A few minutes later, Kendall, Denise, and a few others file in and look around.
Kendall plops next to me and punches me in the shoulder. “See? I told you she’d dance with you.”
“You were right. I should know better than to doubt you.”
“You’re darn right!”
More people arrive, and in the mix is Sarah. Her face lights up when she sees me, and she leaves her friends to come over to our booth.
“Mind if I sit here?” Sarah asks.
“Of course not!” I answer.
She slides in on the other side of me and looks around the table. I don’t think she knows my friends, so I introduce her. Within minutes we’re all joking and having fun while waiting for our food.
About ten minutes later, Christina, Aimee, and a couple of guys walk in. They must be football players because they’re tall and extremely muscular. Even though Sarah is giving me plenty of attention, I feel deflated. As they walk past our table, Christina stops to whisper something into Denise’s ear. Girls…it seems they’re always sharing secrets with each other. I think that’s called gossip…and it’s another no-no.