Love Song - 4

The party, in itself, wasn’t bad. It was very expensive and fancy, with penguin suited waiters proffering caviar to anybody near, and loads of tailored young bachelors flitting around.
Tom was there, which was, unusually, a plus, because I knew somebody besides my hot shot ex who was, by the way, going around with a very, very pretty blonde haired woman on his arm. He didn’t give me another glance at all during the ball, and I spared him no other thought. I was too busy having fun with Tom.
Yes, Tom.

I know I said that he was pretty boy and cloned and generally stupid, but he does have some things going for him. For example, he works in the same production building that I’ll be working in when I’m not following Will around. This is amazingly good, because I don’t want to be left in limbo whilst he goes off on lunch dates with miss blonde hair.
Or something.
So anyway, I and Tom were on the sidelines just chatting amiably when the floor suddenly cleared, and Will raised his glass.
"Dance time!" he declared, and then pulled a prettily laughing miss blonde onto the middle of the floor. Some thumping beats came on, and he began to dance with her. I remembered that he was amazing dancer.

He used to come to salsa classes with me. It was ‘our’ thing. He wasn’t, I noted thankfully, doing salsa with miss blonde. They were bopping around to – ugh – pop.
Other people joined them, and the floor was suddenly heaving. I watched for a moment, and then Tom grabbed my hand. Can I just say, his fingers were kind of clammy? EW. I had to refrain from pulling away and sprinting across the room. If it’s one thing that I can’t stand, it’s dancing with somebody with clammy fingers.
But Tom, blissfully unaware of my disgust, just dragged me into the heaving people and began to wiggle his hips to the horrendous music. Seriously. Wiggle. He waved his hands in the air and did some sort of malfunctioned body wave. It wasn’t embarrassing, though. Most of the people seemed to think he was playing up, and they laughed.

I sighed and began to step from side to side awkwardly, clicking my fingers. I sincerely hoped that Will didn’t produce this kind of pop music. We had shared a mutual dislike for the stuff back when we were together. I hoped he hadn’t changed.
Suddenly, the stupid song melted into some thumping hip hop beats, and I smiled widely. This was my kind of thing. The crowd seemed to agree, and got livelier. I would seem stupid doing some really good moves in a formal dress, so I stuck to the minimal body ripples and waves. Tom watched me, wide eyed, before following. He was actually all right.
I lost myself in the music, laughing, and people joined into our little duo. A random guy with longish brown hair and green eyes grabbed me by the waist and pulled me to him, and we began to dance together. I laughed as he twirled me under his arm and tugged me closer. He was really attractive.

Now why couldn’t I meet him first, before I got all messed up about seeing Will again?
We danced more, and chatted a little. He was funny. I was doing a lot more giggling than usual. The fast beats trickled into a slow dance, and he bowed, offering his hand. Smiling, I took it, and he pulled me against his chest, which smelt, like, really nice.
We talked while we danced, and I liked the feel of his arms locked around my waist. I fitted comfortably into him, my head resting on him shoulder, my arms twined loosely around his neck. It was quite intimate for a guy I had met just today, but nice, so I let it go on.
The floor had thinned out when the slow song came on, and I could now see Will clearly. He was with Miss Blonde, but they were holding each other much more loosely than me and Saul (the guy’s name) was. They each had one arm wrapped awkwardly around each other, and were holding hands.
I realized the problem. Miss Blonde couldn’t dance. Even now, with a slow number on, she was stumbling over her feet and stepping on his toes. His expression was a mixture of calm patience and wistfulness. He turned in our direction, and I quickly closed my eyes, before opening them again slowly.

He was looking at me and frowning slightly. As our gazes met, he smiled, and then extracted himself from Miss Blonde – who went to the drinks bar straight away – and walked up to the DJ. A second later, a Spanish melody that I recognized all too well floated through the air.
Saul detangled himself for a second to look me in the eyes.
"You want to attempt some ballroom?" he asked in this deep voice that made my stomach feel all funny. I was about to nod, and pull him further onto the almost deserted dance floor, when something interrupted.

"Attempt? Crystelle is a pro." Another deep, husky voice cut in, and I turned to see Will standing but meter away. My heart skipped a beat, because he was close, and because he was my first love.
"Really? And how would you know that, boss?" Saul asked – a friendly note to his sudden slight hostility.
Will’s eyes flickered, and then landed on me. The breathtakingly beautiful blue pierced my heart like the dagger of reminiscence. I remembered all the times those eyes twinkled at me, and then fluttered closed as he made to kiss me. I remembered when they looked right into my soul, and liked what they saw there. I remembered when they reminded me of all the times when he’d declared himself mine.
I bit my lip and looked away.

"Oh, Crys and I go way back," he murmured softly. Something flashed in his beautiful eyes, and then was gone. "And I wondered if I could have this dance with her?"
Saul looked at me, then at him, and then shrugged and walked off. I felt suddenly very vulnerable, like everybody was watching us. And most of everybody would be, I was sure.
Will hesitated, and then held out a hand. "Will you dance with me?" he asked softly, and it was all I could do not to burst into tears. How many times had he asked to dance with me, then pulled me onto the floor and kissed me instead?
Instead of bursting into tears, however, I nodded weakly and took his hand. His fingers closed over mine, twined through them, and my fractured heart began to beat again. There was something so right in the warmth of his palm, in the roughness of his skin, especially on his thumb where he’d spent hours plucking on a guitar without a pick.
He pulled me to the middle of the floor, and then against his chest. His chest smelt a lot nicer than any others I had smelt that night. And it was familiar, too, this scent. Lemony washing up powder, the faint scent of his aftershave, and the warm, comforting smell which was all him.

The lively Spanish melody had petered out to a slow romantic one, and he put his arms around me in a hold that made tears lump in my throat.
"I’ve missed this," Will murmured after a moment. I stiffened in his arms.
"Really? I suppose this is all you’ve missed," I replied in a cold voice, and looked away from his piercing gaze. He put two fingers beneath my chin and tilted my head back.
"No. I missed you, too. More than you could know." He said, but I moved my head away, already immune to his sweet lies.
"No. If you did, you would have called, would have contacted me in some way…to tell me you still cared."

"I couldn’t. I was stupid then. But…it still doesn’t change the fact that I…really liked you. And anyway, everything changed. I got recognized…I got swept up in fame…"
"…and you forgot all about the small town girl who you promised to stay friends with forever, no matter what the state of romantic involvement with the both of us, separately."
"No, Crystelle, I didn’t forget you. I dedicated a few songs to you, haven’t you heard them? I’d hoped you had, and would understand, but I suppose you didn’t want anything to do with me."

"Music, to me, used to mean you. When you went, so did my love of music. I haven’t listened to one song since that night…and I don’t regret that. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, because you taught me that men are just another species not to be trusted."
Will was silent for a moment.
"I’m sorry," he apologized quietly. I just broke out of his hold.
"Apology not accepted."