Face the Music and Dance
Her arms circled him. At her touch, his pulse raced. For a moment, he was afraid she would actually hear it, his heart pounding away like a hammer in his chest.
Yet, she seemed not to notice. In fact, she seemed to see nothing but his face and his form. He would glance up, shyly, to see her staring down at him, a vast amazement in her eyes.
What does she see in me?
The music was sweet and they circled to its beat. She was not a good dancer, but she was trainable. "Tell me what to do," she whispered down at him. He did his best. He'd provide now and then little instructions, and by means of carefully calculated pulls and pushes, he taught her how to lead him.
Gradually, she began to relax and even to experiment with a step or two. He smiled at her new confidence.
The music ended. They stopped reluctantly. She didn't take her hand from his. "Can I…"she began tentatively. "I mean, I suppose we should join the others."
He nodded. "I guess we ought to." But he didn't want to. He wanted to be there with her, on the floor, with his arms around him forever. Still, he let her lead him back to the table. They sat. He knew, distantly, that the Captain, the Doctor, and Désiré were there, but he didn’t actually see them. He had eyes only for Arlanda.