Leaning against the wall, I nursed my soda and watched the growing crowd. The event seemed to be somewhat of a success. And it was sort of magical to watch people dance in utter silence. Even though they heard music, the fact that you couldn’t hear it completely reframed their movements. Strangely, dancers without music were akin to astronauts without gravity—floating in a way that felt impossible to understand.
I glanced at my watch, noticing we were closing in on the hour I’d promised, and I was considering rounding up my crew when she walked in and took my breath away. She was a little pixie of a thing, five feet at most. Her hair was dark, and there was tons of it, long and silky, and in an enticing disarray. She also had huge eyes, giant slightly buggy saucers she outlined in thick, dark liner. She wasn’t curvy or busty. She wasn’t classically pretty in any way, but something about her was utterly magnetic. She reminded me of Arwen from Lord of the Rings, downright ethereal.
She strolled with purpose to the headphone guy, pointed to a pair, silently questioning if she was free to just take them. He nodded, smiling at her in a way that made me uniquely unhappy. I didn’t often find myself concerned with the way strange men flirted with a woman I’d never met, and, honestly, I was sort of shocked by my reaction. I even cleared my throat like I had something to say. To whom, I am not exactly sure, but watching him talk to her made me want to rant at someone.
The only thing keeping my irrational response in check was her total indifference. At first, she seemed to listen with great intensity as he pointed to the parts and explained the headphones, watching his mouth as he spoke, but when he handed them to her, she gave him a tight smile, tipped her head in thanks, and immediately walked away without having said anything.
I watched her back as she approached the dance floor. She was wearing jeans, a black band T-shirt and black Converse. Her overall look was plain but also punky. Once she picked her spot, she half-faced me again, and then grasped the headphones between her thighs as she twisted her hair into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. Hair fixed, she fussed with the headphones for a bit before putting them on, instantly becoming a punky Princess Leia.
I was into her, drawn to her in a way that didn’t make sense. She wasn’t part of the plan. I was one hundred percent sure my father, senior senator in the U.S. Congress, would not approve. This was not the kind of girl who stood next to you on the podium as you swore to uphold the law. This was the kind of girl who went with you to the county fair, screamed something profane from the top of the Ferris wheel, and licked the cotton candy off her fingers.
She looked like normal and wild all rolled into one. I bet she hung out in her dorm room with friends eating junk food and wearing pajamas. Her life was regular, the kind of life where you borrowed your parents’ car to run to the store and decorated your childhood bedroom with posters of your favorite bands. I was not this kind of person, not at all.
Tranced out watching her, I didn’t hear Ashton next to me until he said, “Huh, I never would have thought punky was your type.”
“She’s not,” I said, my voice calm and completely even. Luckily, I was not easy to fluster.
“Say what you will, but I’ve known you three years, Zack, and I’ve never seen you watch a woman the way you were just watching that one.”