The Dance
Authors: Alison G. Bailey
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Family Saga, #Contemporary, #Romantic Comedy, #Contemporary Fiction, #Sagas, #Women's Fiction, #Romance
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
Editor, Linda Roberts
Cover Design, Murphy Rae Hopkins, Indie Solutions
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Photography, Abigail Marie, Non’Pareil Photography
http://www.nonpareilphotography.com/
Interior Design, Elaine York,
http://www.allusiongraphics.com/home.html
ISBN #978-0-9914744-8-6
To my sister, Kelley. There aren’t enough words to express my love and gratitude. Thank you for being the best big sister a girl could have.
I stood in front of the glass wall, mesmerized. The fake sunlight shimmered down through the water, bouncing off the yellow, green, and pink coral. The blue glow of the tank gave the dimly lit nook a mystical dreamy feel.
The prom committee had pulled off an epic feat this year. Instead of having the dance in our gross school gym it was being held at the new state-of-the-art aquarium downtown. Once the student committee agreed, Megan Sims, head cheerleader and overly developed youth, was given the task of presenting the new location idea to the faculty advisor, Mr. Hall. During the meeting, as Megan waxed poetic about riding the waves of hope out into the ocean of the future, she hoisted her massive boobs up to meet Mr. Hall’s sightline. Three seconds into Megan’s spiel the dude was so titnotized that he would have offered up his first born in order to pay the rental fee.
At first, I had my doubts about spending my final prom at the aquarium. The fishy décor didn’t exactly scream romance, but I had to admit, it was pretty cool. The dance was in Ballroom A, which opened up onto a huge deck facing the Charleston harbor. Inside three giant purple octopus chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, casting cool shadows on the walls covered in varying shades of blue. Big white coral sculptures were at the four corners of the room. Tables draped in white linen with candles and seashell centerpieces outlined the room, leaving a huge space in the middle for dancing.
The rules of the night were clear: 1. Proper attire—guys were to wear a jacket and tie, girls were to have their nips and hoo-haws covered at all times. 2. No alcohol. 3. No drugs. 4. No sex of any kind, anywhere. 5. We were only allowed in the designated areas— Ballroom A and the adjacent deck.
My best friend, Sophie, had run off to break rule number four. While Will, my first and only boyfriend, was off breaking rule number two. Deciding hanging out with his football buddies was his preferred way to spend our senior prom. He’d picked me up from home, felt me up in the limo, and then ditched me twenty minutes after we arrived. I was disappointed but not surprised. People loved being around Will and he thrived on the attention, never wanting to let down his parents or his friends. Even though it was hard sharing him with everyone, I had developed an understanding over the two years we’d been together.
Once Will had his fill of his football buddies, he’d come looking for my forgiveness. With his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, and his muscular forearms flexed, he’d toss his sexy pouty look my way, and I would fall under his spell. I was a sucker for a well-defined muscular arm. Flexed or not, they induced a severe case of amnesia in me. But Will had more going for him than just muscles. At his core he was a good guy. His smile and charm could melt anyone. He’d aimed them at me the beginning of our junior year and I’d been melting ever since.
Each time I looked into his dark brown eyes or ran my fingers through his matching short hair, I knew I was the envy of every girl in school. There was no question in my mind or my heart that Will was my future. We’d had our ups and downs like every couple. But when you loved someone you learned to work through your problems and overlook their less attractive qualities. I just thought tonight being our last prom would be different. Instead, I was spending one of the most romantic nights in a high schooler’s life with the cast of Finding Nemo.
After spending a long half hour as a wallflower, I decided to go rogue and break rule number five. I discretely slipped out of the ballroom and snuck down the hallway in search of a quiet place. Turning two corners, I found the perfect spot, the noise and booming music fading into the background. I kicked off my four-inch heels, quieting my screaming feet, and unleashed my long, light brown hair from the nest of pins holding it up. After running my fingers through my hair a few times, I directed my attention to my new date.
My nose hovered just in front of the glass as I stared into beady black eyes. I puckered my lips and puffed out my cheeks, matching the fish blow for blow.
“I can put your blowing skills to much better use.” The raspy voice filled the small area.
I stilled, praying to all that was holy on this earth and beyond that those words were a figment of my imagination. The scent of beer and cigarettes drifted toward me. My increased breathing caused my new fish friend to disappear behind the fog. My eyes closed as a deep chuckle swirled in the air. This was real. I’d been caught and there was no way out of it. I turned my head and reluctantly opened my eyes.
Hart Mitchell, Garrison High’s resident bad boy, was standing less than a foot away. He had transferred in at the beginning of the year from parts unknown. I had no concrete evidence as to why he’d been dubbed GH’s bad boy other than he definitely looked the part.
From day one, rumors flew around school, ranging from the ridiculous to the sublime. One claimed he started coming to GH because of his hot affair with Mrs. Crawford, the very curvy, twenty-five-year-old, redheaded English teacher. No doubt he probably had a crush on her. All the boys did and even some of the girls. Hell, I caught myself a couple of times staring at her ass when she was writing on the dry erase board. The thought of Hart and Mrs. Crawford together formed a knot in my stomach. It was icky. For some reason I wanted that rumor to remain just that, a rumor. The most absurd explanation for Hart’s arrival was the one about him being the leader of a motorcycle gang hiding from the Feds. He did ride a motorcycle but who hides from the Feds in high school?
I, along with the rest of the female population at GH, including faculty, noticed the new boy right away. He quietly commanded female attention. He appeared to be a loner. I never saw him hang out with anyone before or after school. In the classes we shared, he always sat behind me in the very back. Several times during the year I resisted the urge to turn around and sneak a peek when I felt his eyes on me. For some unexplained reason he made me nervous.
And then there was the swagger.
The swagger was an entity unto itself. It was confident, purposeful, and a majestic sight to behold. The best parts of my day were after second period biology and fourth period history. Several girls would get into position at their lockers and wait for the swagger to make its way around the corner. Just before it came into view an electric vibration filled the hallway. And when sensation collided with sight . . . no panty was left undropped.
Hart Mitchell was a definite enigma wrapped in hotness.
My gaze moved up his chest and over his sharp angled jaw, finally landing on a pair of piercing eyes. The stretch in my neck indicated that Hart was at least two inches taller than Will. From the few quick glimpses I’d taken of him during class, I thought his eyes were blue but in this light they looked smoky gray.