soap. Whatever it is, it’s a good smell to breathe in as he holds me. I wonder what he’s thinking and why he asked me to dance and if it was because he had found our in-class sparring as weirdly enjoyable as I did. And I actually do want to know, all of a sudden, what music he listens to and what books he reads.
Michael breaks the silence after a few moments, asking “Where are your other sisters tonight?”
I think, “This is what he was thinking? He’s wondering about my sisters?” but I say, “Cassie is out with the Brick,” Michael laughs at this, “and Leigh’s Christian folk group is playing tonight.”
“She’s serious about her faith, then?”
“Dead serious. Utterly without humor about it.”
I expect him to say something sarcastic about her, but he doesn’t. Instead, Michael nods as if this makes sense to him. No one else has ever reacted that way before.
“Leigh’s passionate about Jesus,” I go on. “But I cannot explain her twin’s passion for the Brick.”
He laughs a little at that. He has a nice laugh. It’s like water running over rocks somehow. Naturally melodic, I guess.
“Really? You can’t imagine it?” he asks. “Isn’t the cheerleader dating the football star the oldest high school cliché in the world?”
And that brings me back to earth. This is the Michael Endicott I know, looking down his considerably long nose at everybody who doesn’t have a Mayflower pedigree.
“Well, that’s my family,” I snap back. “The Clichéd Barretts of Longbourne. The religious zealot and her evil twin, the ditzy slutty cheerleader; the absent-minded professor and his would-be-preppy wife”
“And where do you fit in?” he asks me sharply.
I know that I was pretty harsh with him and I can only imagine how much he regrets having gotten himself stuck on the dance floor with me in all my shrewish glory. But I can’t think of the right thing to say now. So I just shake my head and grit my teeth and we dance in silence again for awhile, a heavy, thoughtful silence, and when I’m finally about to say something, anything, a voice behind me says, “May I cut in?”
I turn to see Jeremy Wrentham tapping Michael on the shoulder and my face gets really warm all of a sudden, as if my brain had turned up the thermostat from the neck up.
Michael steps back. He doesn’t say anything, but looks at me questioningly for a few seconds, then indicates with the gracious sweep of his hand that he is relinquishing me -and probably without any regret. He walks away before I can say anything and Jeremy laughs and catches both of my hands in his. He swoops me off with a lurch, saying “I have always wanted to do that. Cut in on somebody. It’s so suave.”
“It’s like something out of an old movie,” I agree. “Very Cary Grant.” I look up at Jeremy’s face and he gives me that smile; I laugh and feel how warm and solid his back was. In his moss green crewneck sweater and faded jeans, he looks a little more disheveled than usual and hopelessly underdressed for this event, but he’s still easily the most beautiful thing in the room. I sigh.
“So Michael got the stick out of his ass long enough to dance, huh?” he cracks.
“That is not polite waltzing conversation, Mr. Wrentham,” I chide, and he responds by dipping me recklessly. He looks at me, waggling his eyebrows under his gold blonde hair and I look up at his eyes and feel all the breath go out of my body. Dancing with Jeremy is easy. It’s fun. I’m not wondering what he’s thinking or how he feels about my family. I’m just moving with him to the music, and I don’t even care that I probably suck at it. It just feels good.
“I’ve always wanted to do that, too,” he laughs.
People are noticing this disruption of dance floor decorum, so I straighten up immediately and smooth out my skirt.
“So,” Jeremy says as we resume more staid dancing, “how did you get a name like Georgiana anyway?”
“My dad is a British Lit professor at Meryton College, so my parents named me and my sisters for famous 19th century women. I was named for the Duchess of Devonshire.”
“Duchess, huh? It suits you.”
I don’t know what to say to that, but it sounds flattering, though implausible. I try to focus on the music for a moment instead of wondering what Jeremy is up to dancing