“There’s been a change of plans,” Mr. Fuller barked as he let me in through the back entrance of the Promise City Assisted Living Center’s auditorium. “It’s a long story, and we don’t have time to go into it because the show starts soon, but I need you to dance with me onstage.”
My mouth fell open. “Wait, what happened to Ms. Davenport?”
He shrugged. “She’s mad at me and said she’ll dance with Theo. I made fun of the talent show this morning, and now she’s not talking to me. She’s too busy flitting around with supervising this event and won’t listen to my apology.”
“What did you say exactly?” I braced myself.
His face paled. “I said she needed to ease up with her stress. It’s not like this event was something important, like finding a cure for STDs.” He picked at his fingernails. “I guess I could’ve been more sensitive.”
“Mr. Fuller, I’m the worst when it comes to advice, but when someone’s stressed out, it’s maybe best to offer to do something useful, like help them with groceries or bring them food if they’re strapped to their desk. Something like that. A gesture.”
“A gesture,” he echoed. “Okay, next time.”
He offered me a seat in the front row, beside him. “She’s over there, with Theo.” He pointed across the aisle to the seats opposite ours.
I waved at the two of them, but only Theo saw. He nodded toward the front of the auditorium and mouthed, “See you onstage.”
The room was mostly full, with a quarter of the audience from camp. The lights dimmed before I had time to skim through the talent show program. Whistles and clapping erupted when the emcee of the event took the microphone. He had slicked-back gray hair and wore a navy-blue sequined jacket and pants, like something you might see at an upscale show in Vegas. He was rail thin, but the outfit gave him some bulk.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the first annual talent show, which we’ve named Promise City’s Got Talent! I’m your host, Ricky Suggs. Tonight, we have magicians and jugglers and musicians—the list goes on. There’s juice and cookies in the back. And if you’re prone to falling asleep and snoring—I’m looking at you, Jimmy—be sure to sit near the back so we can get you out quickly. If you don’t, we might mike you and turn it into a comedy act.” The audience roared. “So without further ado, let’s bring Marion Smith to the stage to perform an interpretive dance to ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’”
According to the program, we were on next, and the national anthem was only two minutes long. I stood and pulled Mr. Fuller to his feet. My hands were clammy. Some of it was performance anxiety, but I knew deep down, my stomach was clenched tight from Theo being here. I took deep, steady breaths as Marion the interpretive dancer left the stage.
“Coming to the stage next…we have Bill Fuller and Mags Davenport, dancing to—” He squinted and asked, “Which songs, Mags and Bill? It’s crossed out.”
Ms. Davenport said, “‘Come Away with Me’ by Norah Jones.” Theo was standing next to her on the opposite side of the stage.
Simultaneously, Mr. Fuller shouted, “‘Game of Thrones Theme’!” I looked over at Theo, who laughed and shrugged.
These two hadn’t even agreed on the music! The GoT theme was a much faster one-two-three step, and I tried to picture how fast the song would be in my head. My God, we hadn’t practiced that one.
Mr. Fuller whispered into my ear, “I think she’s also mad at me for switching the song.”
Oh, dear God.
The emcee laughed. “Well, we’re here to have fun, so let’s do that. DJ, could you please play both? Let’s do Game of Thrones first, to get the energy up.”
The audience applauded as we took the stage. My breathing came out unevenly as panic wriggled through my body. It’s only a dance. One, two, three, one, two, three.
The haunting theme song to Game of Thrones blasted over the speakers, and we began our dance.
One, two, three, one, two, three. Basic steps, like we practiced.
I was so focused on the counting that Mr. Fuller leaned in and said, “Kid, it’ll be fine. It’s music. Follow the beat.”
I relaxed my shoulders, and he and I waltzed around the stage. One, two, three.
This wasn’t so bad. One, two, three.
It was actually kind of fun. One, two, three.
We had stepped toward Ms. Davenport and Theo, who were also having a good time. I smiled at them, and they returned one too.
When the music switched to Norah Jones, a much slower tempo, Mr. Fuller loosened his grip on my hand and waist and pulled back. He turned and took Ms. Davenport as his dancing mate before I could even react, leaving me partner-less.
Theo, standing a few feet away looking as confused as ever, was alone too.
I walked over to him. “May I have this dance?” I bowed deeply. He pursed his lips to hold back a laugh and gave me a little cross-ankle curtsy.
He offered his right hand, and I laced my fingers in his. With his left hand on the small of my back, he said, “After you.”
“I have to take lead,” I murmured.
“I noticed.”
And so I did. His eyes sparkled as he gazed into mine. We waltzed, and my stare dropped to his soft lips for a quick second. I shivered from the memory of the intensity of our kisses that day in the water. From his breath against my neck. From our bodies pressed together.
YOU, two, three.
WANT, two, three.
HIM, two, three.
The entire auditorium washed away. In a dreamlike state, my feet moved in sync while our bodies swayed to the count. He pulled me in closer, our hips nearly touching as we danced.
“I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispered into my ear.
“So do it,” I murmured.
We stopped waltzing, and he pressed his lips firmly against mine. One slow, intense kiss that made my legs quiver. He buried his face in my neck and wrapped both hands around my waist. My body ached for another deep, shivery kiss.
Mr. Fuller and Ms. Davenport waltzed over to us. “Trying to steal the show?” Mr. Fuller joked. “How’s that for a gesture, Sunny? Here’s another gesture—guest room forty-two is used for overnight stays of the family of residents, and I consider you like family. I hear they have nice sheets. No one will bother you there. I’m friends with the facilities manager. The talent show should take a couple of hours at least.”
They giggled and danced away to the other side of the stage. I asked, “Do you think they orchestrated this whole thing? For us?”
Theo eased his hands farther down my back, sending my head spinning. I tugged on his shirt collar and ran my fingers lightly down his chest, then said, “Let’s check out room forty-two. I hear it has nice sheets.”
I took his hand and guided him off the stage. On the way out, Theo shouted curt hellos to the people who greeted him. Lucky for us, room forty-two was on the same floor, just around the corner. Electricity rippled through me as I turned the knob. Unlocked. Theo pressed into me as I pushed on the door. When it clicked shut behind us, my body flooded with uncontrollable joy. Theo turned the lock, and with my blood pounding through my body, I fell back on the bed and pulled him down next to me.
It was one of the last nights at summer camp together. We were going to make it count.