Florian’s lips move into a pleased smile.
“Have you been in Nashville long?”
“Oh, no,” Carter says. “We’re renting. But I’m shopping for a house. There are some great ones here!”
“Toronto houses are very small,” Hugo explains. “Short. Narrow. He is easily impressed.”
“Toronto is a city with?—”
Hugo raises his eyebrow.
“Well, never mind. We are not talking about Toronto. The point is, you’ll like Nashville.”
And that’s how we find ourselves shortly after exploring Nashville with Florian’s new team members.
Music wafts from the bars, and everything is nice. Some people give us curious looks, but maybe they recognize Florian and his teammates.
Florian
Mateo and I wander Nashville with Hugo and Carter. Carter chatters happily, pointing out bars and sites and listing famous singers that I do not know.
Finally, we find ourselves in a bar. People play live music in the front. It’s not Bach. Nor Sinatra. But I find myself smiling.
Mateo glances at me, and his eyes soften. He stands up and offers me his hand. “May I have this dance?”
“Seriously?”
He nods solemnly, and I grin. I take his hand.
Mateo is—well, he still isn’t the best dancer. We’ll have to work on it. But he gamely leads me around the dance floor.
More people give us curious looks. Some people point us out to their friends. My limbs are stiff. I’m not used to being so exposed. It occurs to me that Tennessee doesn’t have the reputation for being super welcoming to people like us.
But we haven’t experienced anything bad, so maybe that’s just something New Englanders say. I am new to this country.
When I danced with Mateo at the pool, I was certain this was something we’d done all the time. I was certain it was okay, even though, in hindsight, it was our first time dancing in public.
Now my limbs feel stiffer, and I glance at Carter and Hugo. They’re both happily chatting up women at the bar, and after a moment Hugo joins us on the dance floor with a slinky brunette in a glittery tank top and leather pants.
“Are you okay?” Mateo’s tenor voice is soft.
I look down at his concernedeyes. “Yes.”
“Good.”
He leads me around the dance floor some more. The dance floor gets more and more crowded.
“Perhaps…”
“You want to lead?” he suggests.
“Actually,” I say, “I was thinking that perhaps we could go home.”
His eyes widen, and I realize it’s not Mateo’s home. No. Mateo has a flight back to Boston soon.
But he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he nods. “Okay.”
And with that we weave through the dance floor. I wave goodbye to Carter who gives us a thumbs up.
