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“That man’s staring at us again,” said Victoria in a low voice.
“Oh, aye?” said Jamie, ladling punch into two plastic cups. “He’s probably admiring your dress.”
Victoria looked down at her dress, and reflected that it was more likely he was thinking it rather dated. It was passable, but dreadfully ruffly. The other girls were dressed in such slinky, tiny things. She didn’t know how they did it.
“Maybe he’s staring at your kilt,” she shot back.
“Hey, this is formal!” said Jamie. “The Doctor said so. He said it was classy.”
Privately, Victoria thought that the Doctor would let Jamie get away with more or less anything. And at any rate, he had no taste in clothes. But she didn’t like to say so; and across the room, the man in the dark suit was still staring at them. “Jamie. I think he suspects something.”
Jamie looked up at the man – and put down his cup. “Hmm.”
At the very least, the suited man might suspect they weren’t actually students. He might even suspect they were there about the – the funny business in the school basement. If he started asking questions, Victoria didn’t know if they could bluff their way through. She’d been in the company of twentieth century teenagers for mere hours and already she was learning that they were an altogether different species.
Jamie nudged her. “Fancy a dance?”
“What?” said Victoria. “Jamie, this is serious.”
“I’m being serious,” said Jamie. “C’mon. We can lose him in the crowd.”
Victoria looked over her shoulder, at the throng of boys and girls in suits and dresses cavorting to too-loud music. “I don’t think I know any of the dances.”
“I don’t think this lot do either,” said Jamie, jerking a thumb at the dance floor. He offered her his hand. “Hm?”
“Yes,” said Victoria. “Alright.” She let Jamie lead her out onto the dance floor, dark and lit by curious lights in many colours.
She’d learned all sorts, once upon a time, but none of them seemed suitable for this. Jamie, she presumed, was thinking much the same thing. Somewhat fumblingly, he took her hands in his and tried to follow what the others were doing.
“Is he still looking?” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the music.
“I can’t tell.” Victoria shifted, peering over Jamie’s shoulder. “Yes. He’s still watching. Don’t stare! He’ll know we’ve spotted him.”
“Ach, let him,” said Jamie. “We’ll –”
The song, jerky and upbeat, came to a sudden end. People milled above, some leaving the dance floor, others joining, and they took the opportunity to move deeper into the crowd.
Then the music began again, fading in, a slow, crooning sort of song that Victoria didn’t have the first idea how to dance to. Looking around herself, she saw that all the boys had pulled their partners very close, and now they were spinning in little circles and sort of – cuddle-dancing. Some unspoken understanding had occurred and she and Jamie were the only ones out of the loop. They had to join in, or leave the dance floor.
Victoria looked at Jamie. Jamie looked at her. “D’you mind?” he said, holding out his hands.
“Not a bit,” said Victoria. He pulled her close.
So there they were, dancing around in a circle and no closer to getting into the school basement. Victoria rested her head on Jamie’s chest, because that was what the other girls were doing, and because it was surprisingly comfortable. She could hear his heart beating.
“This is… nice,” she said, the song maybe halfway over.
“Aye,” said Jamie softly.
“Is he still watching us?”
“I’m no’ sure. Hang on, I’ll turn us around,” he said, and spun them slowly. “Aye. He’s got his eyes on us alright.”
Victoria considered the problem. She took her head from his chest. “Jamie. Kiss me.”
“Huh – what?” His eyes went wide, and he glanced around in bewildered, in case anyone had noticed the dreadful impropriety taking place.
“If he sees us kissing then he’ll think we’re a couple, and if he thinks we’re a couple he – well, he’ll think we’re just like the others, won’t he?”
“I suppose,” said Jamie. He bit his lip.
“It’s worth a try,” said Victoria. Still, he looked horrified. “Oh, really. I’m not completely repulsive, am I?”
“No! No, you’re –” he stammered. “You’re – erm. I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything,” said Victoria. She closed her eyes, and titled her head up.
Jamie’s hand cupped her face, tentatively, as if still contemplating what to do. After a moment, he kissed her.
It was – well, in truth Victoria had never kissed anyone before, so she had no point of reference. But it was nice, and ever so gentle, and it sent a sort of shivery thrill through her –
Jamie drew away. “I think it worked,” he said huskily. “He’s gone.”
“Oh, really?” said Victoria, not daring or caring to look. “Shall we –”
The music ended, and her courage dissipated with the last notes.
“Ohh,” said Jamie, glancing towards the speakers, evidently disappointed.
“Another dance?” said Victoria.
“Aye,” said Jamie, grinning down at her. “One more.”
And then, perhaps, if it wasn’t dreadfully improper, Victoria wondered if she might ask him to kiss her again.