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‘Hey,’ Tommy says, giving her shoulder a squeeze. ‘Don’t run off just yet.’ She stops and gives him her best no-nonsense look, but he’s not listening, he’s telling her about some sweet club, leaning back against the wall while his fingers tap a million miles a minute.
And he looks her right in the eye. An enticement. A challenge.
Hope says yes.
It’s worth it for the way his face lights up and he grabs her hand, like he’s got the whole world to show her.
They slip in some back way, and she borrows his speed, just a little, and it makes him laugh when he realises.
It’s frivolous, she knows, a waste, and once they’re inside the club proper she’s less glad of it. Because this many people, she can’t keep track of them all. Tommy leads her through the crowd and she knows this is what normal people do, she knows there’s no threat here in this stupid safe human world, but her body is on high alert.
Tommy wants to buy her a drink. She asks for a coke, because if she drinks here she’ll only be more on edge. It’s hard enough to concentrate on Tommy as it is, with her mind running through the cover and the exits.
He touches her, and he asks, ‘You wanna be somewhere else?’
She casts her eyes round and she decides playing 21st century girl doesn’t work, so she tells him, ‘It’d be easy to pick us off, here.’ She leans against the bar, her breath too fast. He watches as she gestures up to the lighting beams, to the booths, and she lays out exactly where their blind spots are.
‘Wow,’ he says.
She can feel the blush creeping up her chest.
She catches his nod, and he says, ‘You need a distraction. We’re dancing.’
He grabs her hand again. And this rush of panic has nothing to do with any imaginary threat and everything to do with she’s never danced. But she follows him into the crowd, who are swaying and chatting and making it all look so so easy.
He must read the nerves in her face, because he takes both her hands, and he leads her, pulling her through the motions so she can get some sense of, yes, this is how it works. And you step on this beat, and you twist on this one …
She laughs when he spins her, her eyes a little wide and wild. It feels odd, to let someone else take control. It makes her feel like a little girl, still being taken through things, not having to prove them.
‘Tell me they still dance in the future,’ Tommy asks suddenly.
Hope lifts her eyebrows and wants to laugh again. ‘Dancing doesn’t help you survive.’ She has to yell above the noise. His eyes wrinkle like she’s said something funny, and there’s a feeling in her chest, a bubbly light feeling. She wishes she were half so natural at this as he is.
‘Remind me what you’re surviving for,’ he says, leaning close so he doesn’t have to raise his voice.
Hope shakes her head at him, and his closeness throws her. ‘Stop talking!’ she says, and he smirks at her.
He stops talking.
And that feeling under her heart doesn’t stop. She’s so awkward at this.
But you’re always awkward at the start of things.
When the song ends, he gestures with his head if she wants to get another drink. His hands are still clasped round hers, and she can feel her pulse pounding in her ears.
She shakes her head, and she smiles at him. And when the music starts back up, she makes sure to spin him.