“I told you, I find mobility in dresses leaves something to be desired.”
“I kick ass in mine.”
Her lips curl up in a grin. “Your agility in them is impressive.”
“My agilityoutof them is impressive too.” I wink and tighten the knot, then step back to admire my handiwork.
“What, in your uniform?”
“No, I mean, y’know…”
Taylor smirks. “Oh, you mean naked? Well, you are in the right place if you would like to put that talent to use.”
“Very funny.” I plant my hands on my hips. “You know, here I am doling out compliments left and right and all you’ve done is make fun of me.”
“Oh, please. You do not need me to tell you that you are always the most beautiful woman in any room.” Taylor backs out of the room and turns down the hallway in apparent exasperation.
Her retreating steps click against the thin hallway carpet and my whole complexion explodes in deep crimson. I’m not even sure she meant it as a compliment, with her narrowed gaze and caustic voice. But my heart skips in my chest anyway because I am deeply pathetic.
“Come along, princess. Let’s not be late for the ball.”
Coloredhalogens slice through clumps of boisterous revelers swarming the dance floor. It doesn’t take me more than two seconds to find Delilah through throngs of people. The madame is tucked into a silver dress shining with rhinestones; it barely covers her ample bosom and ends midthigh. Teensy stilettos punish her feet, chocolate tresses upswept and dotted in silver stones. Despite my deep cleavage and relatively short-hemmed dress, she makes me look like I emerged from a convent. She spots us almost as instantly as I spot her, painted lips widening in greeting.
“About time you two showed up. I was starting to think you started your own celebration.” Delilah hands me a glass of blush pink punch, and a sparkling water to Taylor, whom she nudges with her elbow. “You were right. She chose the blue. Taylor picked out the dresses for you and was certain you’d go for the blue. I guessed green.”
I smirk at Taylor over my glass. “Well, the last time I wore a green dress to a party, it didn’t end so well.”
“You didn’t die,” Taylor reminds me.
“And you came away with the most valuable item in the Northeast.” I fling what’s left of my hair over my shoulder.
“I have paid dearly for it every day since.”
Delilah peers between us, the chandeliers’ lights glinting off her rhinestones. “Now, what will it take to get you out on the dance floor, Taylor?”
Taylor shakes her head. “You know I do not dance.”
“Dancing is not her thing.” Our eyes meet as I recall our ballroom conversation with a bit of nostalgia. How much simpler life was when all I knew about Taylor was that I wanted her? “Just because she can doesn’t mean she likes to. She is insistent about that.”
“I am stunned you were paying attention,” Taylor deadpans.
“Trust me, you had my attention.” I finish off my drink with a long sip. “Because, fortunately for you, I love to dance. Matter of fact, I think I’ll go find someone else who does.”
“Steer clear of strangers near the punch bowl.” Taylor plucks my glass from me as I stroll out into the thick of the dancers.
When I enter the dance floor I’m swept into the strong arms of Mason, who twirls me around like I weigh nothing. My body relaxes doing an activity so familiar to me it might as well be breathing. Mason is an excellent dancing partner, and it isn’t long before we attract a sparse crowd. He knows when to dip and pause, when to let my hips gyrate on his leg, and when to runhis hands down my back. A sultry bachata envelops us, requiring intense concentration and relentless touching. Curling my body around his in the most suggestive manner I can, I let him twirl and pull me back like a spinning top. Strains of Spanish guitar peter out and the dancers around us clap.
“I think I’ll cut in,” a pretty woman says, and plants a claiming hand on Mason’s shoulder, who looks quite delighted to see her.
I extricate myself. “By all means. Thanks for letting me borrow him.”
Not long after, I am dancing in the arms of another young man. We drink as we dance, lifting glasses from waiters who weave in and out of the dancers. Hours roll by, and the raucousness of the party reaches a high. The heat of the room stifles us, and my current dancing partner brings us to the edge of the dance floor for air.
Taylor converses with a handful of soldiers, her back to the dance floor. An inebriated Faith stumbles into her, and Taylor sets her right with a warm smile. Faith arrests Taylor’s stabilizing arms, yanking her away from the soldiers, toward the dance floor.
“Come on, grumpy,” she slurs, tugging petulantly. “You’re, like, such a bump on a log tonight. You haven’t had one drink. Haven’t danced one time. Not one time!”
“I don’t want to dance, Faith.” Taylor eyes my partner and me before looking back to her friend. “There are plenty of others who would love to dance with you.”
