“Does that mean I can get a picture with you, Mrs. Watkins?” Keenan teased, but I shot him a death glare.
If he started making MILF jokes, I’d beat his ass in the high school parking lot later. It wasn’t my fault he didn’t have a date to the dance because he and Ivy broke up. But, unfortunately, that didn’t stop him from making the joke about taking my mom.
Sierra snickered at us, and my mom just shook her head with amusement.
Mom took a few more pictures of us, but right as we were about to head out the door, she handed Sierra a gift bag.
“What’s this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Open it,” Mom urged.
Sierra carefully took out the tissue paper, revealing a small, purple Polaroid camera. “Mae, you didn’t have to get me something!”
“Now you can capture all these memories for yourself, dear. And you can take them with you everywhere you go, so you’ll always have something to remind you of the people who love you.”
To my surprise—and my mom’s—Sierra wrapped her up in a big bear hug.
“Thankyou so much, Mae. I love it.”
Mom squeezed her back, and I swore I saw her eyes welling up with emotions. “Always, my dear.”
“Come here, guys!” Sierra waved us over to take a selfie with her new camera.
Keenan threw his arm up behind my head, but I wasn’t sure what he was doing. Sierra pouted her lips and threw up a peace sign after she told us to smile at the camera.
I didn’t have time to react. The camera was flashing before I could even look at the lens; my eyes were locked on Sierra the whole time.
The first half of the dance had gone by fast, the DJ playing a bunch of upbeat songs and line dances to get kids out on the floor. Keenan was flirting with some girls, so I went to grab a couple glasses of punch and maybe a snack for me and Sierra.
However, when I turned around to walk back, she was standing out on the edge of the dance floor alone as people began to couple up. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking, so I put the cups down and walked up behind her, tapping her on the shoulder.
She spun around to face me, blonde curls flying over her shoulder in the process. She looked as though she was trying to suppress her smile when she realized it was me.
“Wanna dance?” I asked as the opening chords of “Sparks” by Coldplay started to play over the speakers.
“Uh…I don’t really know how to,” she mumbled, fidgeting with her dress.
I took her hand, wrapping my fingers around hers,leading Sierra out onto the makeshift dance floor. “I’ll teach you.”
Placing her hand on my shoulder, I rested mine on her back, our joined hands extended out.
“Follow my steps,” I murmured. “You’ll step backward with your left foot, backward with your right foot, then join them together. Then you’ll do the same steps but forward. It’s like moving in a box.”
The song wasn’t a traditional waltz, but my mom had taught me the steps as a little kid, dancing in the kitchen. She showed me how to two-step, swing dance, and waltz. Just like cooking, she’d informed me it’d come in handy one day, and as always, she was right.
Sierra’s eyes flicked down to our feet as she watched our steps. It was like she was scared to mess up or step on my feet.
I took my hand off her back, using a finger to lift her chin. “Hey. Eyes up here.”
Her pupils dilated, and her mouth gaped slightly, but no words came out.
“Trust me. I’ve got you, Skip. I won’t let you fall.”
Her cheeks flushed pink and her skin heated, but she did as I asked, keeping her eyes trained on me as we spun around the dance floor in time to the slow rhythm.
“See, you’re getting the hang of it,” I encouraged as I spun her out.
She giggled as I pulled her back in. “I have a really good teacher.”
