She all but patted me on the head. Archie, to my left, laughed. Apparently, he also found the word hilarious in my American tone.
For New Year’s Eve, the entire village had piled into the local small-town hall for the céilidh, and the place was packed, the air hot and heavy with laughter and beer. Archie had invitedus along, even going as far as to lend me his spare kilt and all the necessary accessories. But since he was significantly shorter than me, he failed to mention that the kiltmightcome a little further up than tradition called for.
Kit had also dressed up for the event, having pulled an embellished black dress out of her massive suitcase. The material, complete with sparkles, highlighted her blonde hair, the corset hugging her chest beautifully.
“I don’t like this ganging up thing.” I narrowed my eyes across the table at my supposed friend. “Kit’s still English.”
He waved his hand at me, pressing forward, kilt dipping between his legs. “The lass is more local than you.”
Kit nudged me with her elbow. “And at least I can say the words.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Remember when you arrived and mispronounced the cottage name?”
She tossed a blonde curl over her shoulder. “I’ve reconnected with my Scottish heritage since then.”
Kit clasped her glass of wine and took a long sip. I couldn’t help but watch the line of her elegant throat, mesmerized by the movement there. Everything about her was delicate and special. She was the only person who’d gripped my attention in years.
There was no ‘before her’ for me anymore. Only after.
“Excuse me, if I can get your attention please,” a voice bursting through the speakers pulled the room’s focus to the band, to the accordion player sitting at the front, the microphone placed in front of him. “We are about to start, so can everyone please make their way to the floor for our first dance, the ‘Gay Gordons’.”
I turned, looking around the table, confused as to what exactly aGay Gordonwas, only to find Maddie hauling her husband up out of his chair, a resigned look across his face.
“Come on,” she urged. “You’ll love it.”
“My feet already hurt, woman,” he moaned as he stood up, adjusting his kilt and sporran. Then, with a loving look, his head tilted, and he added, “I’ll do it for you.” Then he looked towards us, pointing as Maddie yanked him once again towards the dance floor. “I better see you two up there. I didn’t lend you that kilt for nothing.”
When I turned to look at Kit, her features were already arranged in a playful smirk.
“Well?” I asked. “Do you want to dance?”
“Oh, I’m keen,” she replied, pushing up from her seat before downing the rest of her drink. “I’m afraid you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. These organized dances are no joke.”
“How hard can it really be?” I laughed, following her up to the dance floor. The entire time, I kept fixing my kilt, making sure it was in the right position. Archie had walked me through it after I’d accidentally placed it too high and it looked closer to a mini skirt.
Kit guided us into our place, stepping into a circle and taking up a position between two other couples.
“No, put your hands here,” she added, guiding me, her hand interlacing with my own, her soft hair brushing my cheek. Every touch with her felt precious, and I wanted to commit each instance to memory. I looked ahead, noticing that everyone else was in a similar position, realizing that Kit may have been right – that this might be a little more complicated than I’d bargained for.
“Perfect.” She smiled up at me, her lips a perfect shade of pink. “Scared?”
I narrowed my eyes playfully, looking around the room. “It’s only a little dancing.”
The man spoke again, his voice gruff. “Alright, now, for any newbies, we’re gonna walk you through the steps.” Relief surgedthrough me, thankful that they’d actually be giving us some instruction.
It was short-lived.
“Walk forwards for three. One. Two Three.” Kit held my hands tightly as we walked forward, keeping me right as we followed his words. “Now, keeping hands held, swivel to face the opposite way.” Kit mostly led me through that one, twisting us around, so we were facing in the direction we’d come. “Now backwards four steps,” he added, counting again.
“Do you know this dance?” I asked her quickly, noticing how she almost anticipated his instructions.
“I remember a little,” she said. “I’ve had some friends throw one for their weddings.”
Kit untangled our arms, following some more instructions, and, holding my hand up, she twirled around in a circle as the announcer called out again. I stood, entranced by the flow of her skirt, the bright, playful smile on her face as she spun.
After a count of three, she rejoined my arms, practically bashing into my body as she stopped. Taking my arms, Kit pulled me into a ballroom hold, still looking a little dizzy. My hand stayed at the low of her back, feeling the velvet softness of her dress under my fingertips. I barely had a moment before she guided us around the room, spinning us as we danced around in the circle, the other couples doing the same.
“Excellent, everyone looks like an expert!” the musician said again. “Time to get started!”
