dress from Izzy’s closet and a pair of shoes to match. And I’ve done nothing with my hair, other than wash it and comb it. I chose the most modest dress I could find, black velvet, tea-length and with a cap sleeve. If I’m remembering correctly, Izzy wore it to our cousin June’s wedding in Cincinnati, not to a formal dance, and had I run my choice by her on FaceTime, she probably wouldn’t have approved. But I’d felt uncomfortable just running my hands across all the strapless and spaghetti strap options in her closet, much less actually wearing any of them out of the house. Anyway, Izzy’s busy studying for midterms, and hasn’t had time to FaceTime this week. She should just be happy I’m keeping my promise to her, that I’m here at the dance, even if this probably isn’t quite what she had in mind.
“We should spread out,” Jane says as we walk in. She’s forgone the lab coat for once, and is wearing a long-sleeved lilac lace dress that looks weirdly like a doily, or like something she might’ve borrowed from one of the old ladies at the Villages, where I volunteer once a week. My dress is positively risqué in comparison. “Let’s all try and find our matches and try to observe how things are going,” Jane says.
George nods in agreement, and Jane walks inside the gym in front of us, heads right into the fray of dancing bodies, as if she belongs, seemingly not caring one bit that she doesn’t. George and I stand there a little awkwardly by the door, watching everyone dancing out in front of us. The DJ is playing something fast, and the beat is pulsing way too loud. The gym still smells vaguely of sweat, and I don’t care how dark it is, how much the committee decorated it last week, I still step in here and only see and smell PE class.
George nudges me with his elbow. “Look, there’s Hannah and Phillip.” They’re dancing next to each other. Phillip bumps her hip with his and she throws back her head and laughs. She is wearing her hair up. All the red curls are piled on top of her head, making her face open and bright, her expression clear, radiant. Up was the right choice! “And Sam and Laura, over there.” George points to the other side of the dance floor, and I can only catch a glimpse of Sam’s face, the back of Laura’s head (her raven hair is down, curled). “And one of the other cross-country guys over there...what’s his name?”
I follow his finger and crane my neck to see. “Oh, that’s Jason. And he’s with Jenny.”
“They all seem to be having fun,” George says, and there’s something strange in his voice that I can’t place, like he’s a little wistful. Or maybe he’s still annoyed that I was right all along about this app being a good idea.
“Maybe I should’ve made you a match,” I say, half teasing.
He chokes back a laugh. “Sure, right after you made yourself one.” George has never had a girlfriend for as long as I’ve known him. He’s like me—too focused on school and studying to have time to think about dating. And that’s at least half the reason why we get along. We understand each other.
“Come on.” George grabs on to my hand, pulling me farther into the gym, into the crowd. “Let’s get a closer look.”
Just as we make our way onto the middle of the dance floor, the song ends. For a second or two it’s quieter. There are only the noises of couples laughing, chatting. The DJ announces it’s time to switch things up, and a slow song comes on. All around me, couples move in closer, cling to one another, and there George and I are, staring at each other and trapped in the middle of all of it.
George holds out his hand to me. “Come on, let’s dance.” I think he’s joking for a minute, but I stare at him, his eyes hold on to mine and there isn’t a hint of laughter in them. “We can make our way around the floor easier this way. Better for people watching,” he adds.
I take his hand, he pulls me closer and we start to dance. But I don’t feel awkward, the way I had dancing with Richard Hall here in this gym a few years ago, because this is George, and everything about him feels comfortable.