The reluctant dance

Kristine Atterbury, Contributor

"My first looove..." Crystal rolled her eyes at the sound of Diana Ross warbling with Luther about endless love. She turned around to see her parents standing at the edge of the dance floor, both beaming at her proudly. Her mother made shooing gestures with her hands, urging Crystal forward. Everyone's eyes were on her as she made her way slowly toward the young man standing in the middle of the dance floor. She gritted her teeth, anxious for this ridiculous night to be over.

Sean watched the young woman's approach, her steps excruciatingly slow. He tugged at the bow tie around his neck and felt a desperate urge for a cigarette and beer. He hated being the centre of attention, hated being ordered around like a child and, yet, here he was, dressed to the nines, waiting to dance with somebody's important daughter so his mother could show off on the social pages tomorrow. He shifted his feet impatiently. What was she doing, sightseeing?

At least, she wasn't bad to look at. She had soft, almond-shaped eyes, a cute button nose and a pert little mouth that shimmered with gloss. Her white evening dress clung to her figure. Then he noticed her hands, stiff by her sides, fingers clenched together. Don't worry, sweetheart, he thought to himself. I have no interest in you either.

As Crystal drew closer, trying to tune out the assault of the love song that the DJ seemed to think fit the occasion, she looked at Sean closely for the first time. They had met a few times before, at dinners at the yacht club, and once at a cocktail party held at his house. His mother and her father were in talks to merge their manufacturing companies and someone had had the bright idea that it would be wonderful to merge their families as well. Crystal remembered listening in horror as snatches of conversation caught her ear: " ... our only children ... so beautiful together ... sometimes you have to choose what's best ... fantastic idea ... "

She had stared at Sean Payton sitting across from her, his glasses sitting askew on his nose, pushing his food around his plate with an air of complete dullness. This was what they wanted her to settle for?

Now here they were at his father's birthday party, and, of course, someone thought it would be cute to make the kids dance together. Never mind that the kids were 21, not toddlers. He didn't look bad in a suit, she noticed. But he was wearing the same thick glasses, his expression dull as ever. He stretched a hand towards her and she hesitated, wishing she could simply make a run for it. Finally he gave a grunt of impatience, and yanked her into his arms. She shot him a look of pure dislike as he held her stiffly, moving back and forth. Diana and Luther were going at full crescendo now, and the crowd was smiling and watching. Crystal really didn't think she could take much more of this.

"Can you do something about your face?"

Crystal started. She looked up at him, vexed. "What?"

"Fix your face," he repeated. "You look like you're in pain."

"Don't tell me..."

"Listen," he cut her off. "Just grin and bear it. The happier we look, the sooner we can get this over with."

For a moment she stared at him, her jaw slack. Then she plastered on a bright smile and kept dancing. She was surprised to find herself feeling a little offended. He couldn't wait to get away from her either.

"You're not much better," she said, suddenly. "You have the same expression, all the time. It's boring."

"I'm not boring," he retorted. "I'm bored. There's a difference."

"Whatever."

He suddenly stared at her with an intensity that was discomfiting.

"And what about you, Miss Perfect Daughter?"

"Please," she said with a laugh, "don't act like you know me."

"But I do know you," he countered. "You're a good girl. You study very hard and, on the weekends, you go shopping with Mummy in Miami. In your free time, you go horseback riding or swimming. You never do anything crazy. You never step out of line. You do everything Mummy and Daddy tell you."

This was such an apt description, it took Crystal a few minutes to recover and think of a good comeback. "Well, what about you? Straight out of college into a job at your father's company. Big risk there!"

Her voice rose in the last sentence, and she saw her mother eyeing them nervously.

He yanked her tighter and leaned down to speak directly into her ear.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I don't work for my father anymore."

His breath tickled her ear as he spoke, and his cologne washed over her, a hint of Irish Spring soap underneath it. As he turned her casually in a spin and pulled her back toward him, she felt the strength of his muscles beneath the jacket. Enraged at where her thoughts were leading, she set her mouth primly.

"Like I said, whatever, I don't care."

"Good," he replied, his face impassive once again, and then the song was over. He released her and stalked off.

Feeling dissatisfied, she followed him, ignoring the smattering of applause from the small crowd around them. He had long legs, she noticed, and she practically had to run to catch up to him.

"Sean!"

He kept walking, making his way across the lawn and slipping behind the side of the house. Crystal glanced behind her. Her parents were busy socialising and his were nowhere to be seen. She found him leaning against the wall near the back door to the kitchen, lighting a cigarette. She stepped in front of him. He ignored her, inhaling slowly and blowing the smoke back out through his nose.

"I just came to say you're wrong about me," she said, feeling foolish for some reason. He suddenly seemed different, leaning against the wall lazily, the cigarette dangling from his long fingers, his bowtie undone. His glasses were off, tucked into his jacket pocket. He looked almost...sexy.

"Why do you care what I think?" he asked, his eyes piercing hers.

She crossed her arms. "I don't know. Anyway. Sorry. For being rude."

He dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe, putting his hands in his pocket. She waited for him to apologise in return but he just looked at her.

When he leaned forward, she was forced to take a step back to maintain her personal space. His eyes travelled from her face to her throat, to the heave of her bosom beneath the dress.

"This is weird," he said finally. "But, I think I want to kiss you."

Her pulse began to race. Stop it, she told herself, and she decided very wisely to walk away but somehow she was still standing in front of him, watching his eyelashes lower as his eyes continued to rake over her. Time seemed to come to a standstill as he reached an arm out to pull her closer until his lips were inches from hers. Without realising what she was doing, she closed the distance between them. His mouth was warm and insistent, and his eyes stayed on hers the whole time, as his hand travelled down her back, sending thrills of pleasure coursing through her body. He tasted faintly of mint and the sweet smokiness of the cigarette. His hands came up to grasp her face, his fingers stealing into her hair as their bodies melded together.

Seconds, minutes, weeks passed. Crystal lost all sense of time.

"And now, a special birthday dance for Mr and Mrs Payton!" The DJ's voice blared over the speakers, startling them both.

The spell broken, Crystal stepped back. They regarded each other silently for a moment. She heard her mother's laugh peal across the lawn, and reality came crashing back into her mind. She turned to face him, his body stiff and upright. "Don't tell anyone about this."

He gave her a sarcastic smile. "About what?"

And with that, he turned on his heel, and walked away. She adjusted her hair, re-pinning the curls he had pulled loose.

When she joined her family at the table, her mother beamed at her.

"Doesn't Sean look handsome tonight?" she asked. Crystal watched him, sitting next to his father, that strange expression of intent on his face as their eyes met. She looked away and smiled brightly at her mother.

"Sean who?"