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She sits as far into the corner as she can get on one of those small wooden school chairs.
Around her, people talk with loose tongues and they sway with even looser hips.
Juliet has to hand it to the ‘70s, it sure as hell doesn’t hold back.
The island kids – no doubt responsible for the mass onslaught of paper chains decorating the walls – run in and out of the village hall. Boys in cow-boy hats, girls a swirl of tie-dye, laughing as they go, without a care in the world, as if none of them had to hide beneath a desk that morning. She gazes at a nearby table, the flower centre-pieces wilting in the heat. She can relate.
Juliet tries to be invisible, sinking into the chair as if its frame could somehow swallow her whole. She watches the sea of bell-bottom jeans, remembering how much she used to hate school dances, or any dances really. Ever since Adam Myer had approached her at her high school Freshman Spring Fling and asked her to dance. It hadn't occurred to her that he was doing it to make his old girlfriend jealous, and Juliet had barely a minute to bask in the warmth of her happiness, before he was ushered away from her into the arms of his true-intended.
Juliet had been plucked out of obscurity and then, just as suddenly, dumped right back into it.
She stares at her hands, wringing them lightly while her foot taps evenly to a rhythm she’s only half listening to, one part of her idly wondering where someone had dug up a mirror ball, and another pretending that she was perfectly comfortable right there where she is.
His shoes come into view and the two glasses of Dharma Merlot buzzing lightly in her head, gives her a split second debate with herself over the meaning of foot size, before she realises that she's going to have to find something else to do other than visit the bar.
“You okay there Sunshine?” he says.
Her eyes flick to his and it's... disarming... the way he looks at her. He cocks his head and gives her a crooked grin before offering her a beer.
“’Cause you look about six years old in that thing.”
She can feel the flush and closes her eyes briefly, praying that the light is low enough to hide it.
"I say something wrong?" he asks, and she bites back a response. After all, it wasn’t his fault she was a social doormat.
"No, James," she replies. "It's just..."
Somewhere across the room, someone is attempting to out-sing The Hollies, with others joining in, each in their own key, loudly crying why all they need is the air that they breathe.
"Well, if we wanna get Cats to Broadway first, I think we can rustle ourselves up a cast," he says, one eye closed in a wince.
She laughs softly, cringing at the garbled warble of notes. "Thank you, but, I'm not sure my ears would thank me for the investment."
"Then I guess, we'll just have to find something else worthwhile to invest in," he replies.
She catches him smiling at her, and she can feel her own falter.
"So," he says, setting his beer down on the table top. "You wanna tell me why you're so far over by this window, any further and you'll be half out of it?"
"I, um," she has to pause, knowing how stupid this is going to sound. "I’m not really good at dances."
"That so?" he says. "I’d have pegged you for Prom Queen."
Juliet snorts. "I was in the Science Club, James," she says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears. "My sister, Rachel was always the sociable one in the family. I was... well I guess the technical term was nerd."
"Okay then, Miss Science Club, you wanna dance?" he holds out a hand, wiggling his eyebrows
"Um –"
He takes her hand in his and pulls her up out of the chair before she can even think of a reason why this would be a bad idea. There are several reasons, in fact, why dancing with James could be dangerous, none of which she was willing to voice right now. And besides, knowing how good he was with words, Julie had a feeling she would lose any debate.
"It’s been a long time since I last danced," she confesses, as he moves her through the throng of swaying hips. Was it her wedding? With her dad? With Ed?
James finds them a spot and turns toward her, still keeping hold of her hand.
"I got ya," he says, moves her arms around his neck. She finds herself believing him, and she tries to ignore the flutter in her chest when he places a hand gently on her waist. It's been a while since someone had done that too.
"Relax," he says, his other hand coming up to press against her back. "I ain’t gonna bite ya."
She smiles and let's him draw her in closer.
Elsewhere beside them, others have started taking their gyrating to a more serious level, leaving very little to the imagination and no illusions as to how their night would be ending.
They take a split second to look at each other before they're laughing.
"Don't worry," he tells her. "That’s next lesson."
She curses her complexion and seeks the only refuge she can find by resting her forehead against his chest. He feels her laughing silently, and takes the opportunity to pull her in the rest of the way, her head tucking in beneath his chin.
"See now we sway from side to side like so."
And she laughs again, because she feels ridiculous, and embarrassed, and absurdly happy all at the same time. And she can see him smiling, like he's happy because she’s laughing, and dammit he's not supposed to make her feel this way, this isn't something that can happen. But they move in time to the music, her head coming to rest on his shoulder and his almost buried in her hair.
"And then what?" she asks, her voice muffled in his neck.
He clears his throat before he replies.
"Well – I guess that’s pretty much it."
She looks up and he's looking right back and for a moment she thinks he's trying to memorise her smile. She's very aware that whatever the hell just happened, that he feels it too.
"That’s all you’ve got?" she says, grasping for anything to pull them out of this.
He smiles.
"Well, y'know, it’s been a long time for me too."