“Now switch again!”
We switch. Boots scuff. Hands miss. People start randomly colliding.
Yep, this has officially gone off the rails.
Someone spins into me.
Tater’s resorted to just shouting, “And switch! And switch! And switch!”
People are swapping partners so fast we’re like a live-action game of Twister set to bluegrass—all limbs, zero dignity, and surprisingly good banjo.
The town does not abort. We’re Waterford. Apparently, we love our traditions.
You can see it in the eyes of all the dancers as they double down.
“Switch!” I go flying from my last partner, my hand outstretched to whomever will take it.
I’m in full-bodied, helpless laughter at this point.
I fly to my left and my eyes lock on Cody’s. He’s laughing too, his eyes crinkled, his full lips spread wide in a smile.
We switch and I lose sight of him. Switch again. Switchagain. I’m so dizzy I can’t even see straight and then—I’m spun right into his arms.
My breath catches. Deeply inconvenient, given that this is absolutely not the moment for feelings. Cody grasps for me awkwardly, one hand gripping my shoulder, the other palming my forehead.
I reach out to stop myself from slamming into him and he turns so we don’t hit heads. My finger just misses his eye, grazing his ear as I pull it away. My other hand lands somewhere between his hip and his butt.
We double over in laughter, wobbling as we try to regain our balance. Cody's as committed as Tater. He grabs my hand and spins me. We lock eyes. Then Tater shouts, “Switch your partner mighty quick. That's the way, all lickety split!” Cody shrugs and spins me away.
The music barrels on.
I’m flung back into the madness, laughing so hard I wonder if I should have worn adult diapers.
The music stutters to a halt. The entire room is filled with chaotic laughter and people catching their breath, or literally standing up from wherever they landed during a crazy spin.
Someone starts clapping and then applause breaks out. It’s completely undeserved.
“I don’t know what that was,” Mrs. Hellman says breathlessly, “but I survived it and I want a funnel cake.”
“I make a motion to outlaw whatever that just was!” Josh Jensen shouts.
“Put it on the town calendar,” the guy in the corner declares. “Never. Do. That. Again.”
Slowly, the dance floor breaks apart into smaller knots of people, and my friends and I gravitate back together.
McKenna walks over with a glass of tea for me.
She looks me dead in the eyes and shouts, “Joe! Joe! Joe!” and the sip I just took sprays out.
“I think I pulled a muscle,” Winona says, rubbing her thigh.
“I think I almost died!” Cass says.
Everyone’s relaying their experiences, talking over one another and laughing.
“That wasn’t any tradition I remember,” Patrick says.
“Maybe it should be now,” Dustin says with a big smile.
