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Cersei Lannister hates this backwater college in this backwater town in this backwater state. She hates that Jaime got to stay on the East coast, while her father shipped her off into central Nebraska . There is nothing redeemable about central Nebraska. Cersei doesn't even care that for all technical purposes, the college is in eastern Nebraska. It’s closer to Omaha than the state's Westernmost edge, but Cersei doesn’t care .
There are a lot of things that Cersei abhors about this university. She hates the shitty dorm she’s stuck in. She hates the parking. She hates the changeable weather, that goes from chilly one day to searing hot the next. She hates the wind, and she hates how fucking friendly everyone is. It makes her sick. She knows that her father wanted to get her far away from her brother, but he could have sent her literally anywhere but here. There’s a part of Cersei that thinks she might have preferred Alaska to this shit.
Cersei sighs angrily as she tries to drown out the country music that is blaring from down in the courtyard. She thinks that she might hate the damn swing dancing events even more than anything else. People can’t go an entire week without having some sort of swing dancing thingamajig. There’s even a bar dedicated to it, for God’s sake.
Cersei puts in her headphones, and tries to ignore the country music blaring in through her walls. It doesn’t work, and she can still hear the damn bro country infiltrating her earbuds. She groans, and rips them out. It isn’t working at all. Cersei can feel her anger boiling in her, and makes a decision.
She’s going to go down, and show everyone else how awesome she is and how lame this whole thing is. Cersei decides to put on her makeup, and get ready to show everyone down at that ridiculous little party how great a woman can really look. She puts on her obscenely high heels, and grins at herself in the mirror. She probably won’t even stay at the ridiculous event, but she’ll show everyone what a real woman and real dancing looks like, stuff that’s not done in cowboy boots, jeans, and plaid shirts.
She goes down, and walks up to the basketball court that everyone on campus seems to think is some sort of elegant courtyard. They only brought in a big speaker to plug someone’s speaker into, so it really isn’t anything worth speaking about, but everyone has already paired off. Most of the couples are doing elaborate moves involving a lot of spinning and sliding on their boots. It actually looks like it’s a lot of fun and that it takes a lot of practice to perfect.
Cersei thinks that she might actually be out of her depth. No one is looking at her in jealous awe, or in anger, or in anything at all. No one else here seems to have even noticed that she exists. It’s a weird feeling, considering the fact that Cersei is used to being the center of attention.
There aren’t even any stragglers standing awkwardly at the ends of the court, except for her of course. She’s the only outlier, the only sad weirdo. She feels anger boil inside of her. Any of these people should feel lucky to dance with her.
Another girl comes out of her dorm, wearing a blue and red plaid shirt that is entirely out of place at this school. Hating the University of Kansas is a pastime. She’s also wearing black cowboy boots (not high leather boots, but the sort of boots someone would actually wear while riding a horse) and her auburn hair is in pigtail braids.
Pigtail braids.
Cersei thinks that she might be hallucinating. The girl walks over to her, and stands beside her, trying to be friendly. People here are always trying to be friendly, and it’s exhausting.
“Hey,” the girl says, “it looks like you and I are the only one without partners.”
“Yeah,” Cersei says, hoping that the girl takes the hint from her icy tone that she doesn’t want to talk to her, “looks like it.” The girl cracks a little bit of a smile at that, much to Cersei’s confusion.
“You get stood up too?” she asks.
“I did not get stood up,” Cersei says, poison dripping off of every word, “ I don’t get stood up." The other girl doesn’t look insulted by what Cersei just said, or the way that she said it. Or maybe she’s just decided that she’s not going to care tonight.
“I’m glad,” she says, “it’s pretty awful.” They stand in awkward silence, as the groups disperse and form a line. They start stomping along with the music, and Cersei doesn’t understand a single word of it except for Copperhead Road. That doesn’t even sound like a real thing.
“So,” the girl says, trying to break the awkward silence, “why are you here all alone?” Cersei could lie. She could say that her date was taking a while to dance with someone else. She could say that she was just passing through. She could even say that it was none of this girl’s damn business, which wouldn’t be much of a lie at all.
Cersei, however, ends up telling her most of the truth, “I didn’t have anyone to go with.”
“Me neither,” she says, a hint of a smile gracing her lips, “I guess we’re in the same boat.”
“Yeah,” Cersei says, “I guess we are.” She understands that it’s not much of a conversation starter, and earlier in the conversation she would have been saying it because she legitimately wanted the conversation to end. Now, the words only come out of her mouth because she doesn’t know what else to say. Cersei’s not exactly the best at making friends.
“You wanna dance with me?” the girl suggests, holding out her hand, “I know both parts, so I could do the guy part for you.” Cersei does not take it.
“I don’t swing dance ,” she says, saying the last part as if it’s something disgusting. The other girl rolls her eyes, but doesn’t look all that offended.
“That’s what people who’ve never tried it say,” she says, “come on, it’ll be fun.”
“I don’t want to dance with a girl,” Cersei says, sounding disgusted. Cersei’s a lot of disgusting things, but a lesbian’s not one of them. She’s liked a lot of guys in her time, thank you very much. Catelyn rolls her eyes again.
“It doesn’t have to be romantic,” she says, rolling her eyes.
She takes a moment to think it over, and then she adds, “and if there were, I don’t think there’d be anything wrong with it.” Cersei considers her options. She can go back up to her dorm room, and try to do homework and block out the music all night, or she can spend her night dancing with a girl who actually seems competent and interesting, which are two qualities the people around here are severely lacking.
“Alright,” Cersei says, “I’ll dance with you.” Then, Cersei realizes that she doesn’t even know the other girl’s name. The other girl seems to pick up on this immediately.
“I’m Catelyn,” she says, “I live on the third floor.”
“Cersei Lannister,” she says, trying to sound formal and important, “fifth floor.” Then Catelyn takes her by the hands, and starts trying to lead her through the steps, the country music blaring like light through a muddy, ugly beacon in the background. Their hands are intertwined, and Catelyn spins her in a way that would make it very easy for them to kiss when she ends up in her arms. Cersei pushes the thought out of her head, and tries to match her steps to Catelyn’s. She tries to remind herself that she’s not a lesbian.
They twirl around the floor, two-stepping in time, and occasionally coming so close they're almost touching, breast to breast. She tries not to think about how much more fun dancing with Catelyn is than it was with any boy. Cersei tries not to think about anything at all as she and Catelyn twirl around the dance floor, breathless and eternal in a single moment, with cheesy, ridiculous pop country playing in the background.