A Story In As Many Parts As It Takes, Part IV

Ada's Dance
Last Time Before That Even Earlier

Derrick pulled Ada closer and moved them in a slow turn to the right. She took a deep breath through her nose, smelling the musk of his deodorant. The music was stupid, but she refused to be annoyed by it; all she wanted was the comfort she felt at that moment.

Derrick’s body warmed hers. A slight pressure on her back told her to move to the left or right and how fast to do it. She was dancing, really dancing. His feet helped hers to find the beat. The beat had found its way into her feet with a little help from her friend. She felt good. She felt right. If only . . .

“If only you were Chip,” she whispered into his chest.

“What?” he asked, leading her to the left.

She looked up at him. “I said you’re such a dick. How could you do that? How could you do that to me?”

“D-do what?”

“Quote Steve Martin at me and actually make it work. Make me dance. Look at me, I’m actually dancing.”

“You could always d-dance.”

“Not like this. Not with the music. I’ve never been able to do this. Ever.”

They swayed where they were on the floor, slowly turning. Ada darted her eyes to quickly to the left. She didn’t see Chip. She darted them to the right--no Chip. Eventually, she knew, they’d come around until she could find Chip again, but she wanted to see him now. Some pressure on his shoulder would get Derrick to turn faster, right? And it did work. Soon, she found Chip out of the corner of her eye. She let up the pressure on his shoulder and they’re turning slowed. Once again, she could see a Beethoven symphony made flesh. Her knees wobbled.

She had to get over to him. She had to move Derrick and herself over to Chip. Could she do it even though the guy is the one who’s supposed to do the leading during a dance? She’d led him to the dance and then actually into the dance, why shouldn’t she be the one leading the dance? She could lead herself right to Chip. She could make him desire her the way she desired him. He could take her in his arms and pull her close and--

“A-ada,” Derrick said, drawing her off in a new direction, “thank you.”

Her eyes snapped away from Chip, she lost her desire to lead, let herself be swept away by him. “For what?”

“F-for all of this. You know, for c-coming here with m-me.”

She didn’t know why, but him thanking her sent her stomach fluttering and the back of her throat tingling. “Y-your welcome,” she said. She felt like she was going to throw-up her dinner. Her stomach flopped and she took a deep breath. She was not going to be sick. Not here. Not now. Not on Derrick. Not where Chip could see her. She closed her eyes, took another deep breath, swallowed, and pulled herself closer to Derrick.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Y-you’re kind of c-c-convulsing. You feel weird.”

Ada inhaled, deeply. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Just a little gas,” she gave him a wry smile. “Hopefully they won’t smell like rotten meat and broccoli.”

Derrick smiled back, “G-good. I wouldn’t w-want you, you know, to be getting sick or s-something.”

“Why not? I thought you hated these things?”

“I do.”

“Then why are you glad that I’m not getting sick? You’d get to go home if I threw-up all over you.”

“Who w-wants to get b-barfed on?” His smile grew wider.

“No one, but that’s not the point. Why do you want to be here now? You wanted to leave when we walked through those doors over there. What changed?”

He leaned down and whispered, “I f-figured out why you want to b-be here.”

“What?” Ada said, her voice getting higher.

Derrick moved his mouth closer to her ear and whispered, “I figured it out.”

Ada pushed herself away from him. He didn’t know why she was there. He couldn’t know. He was just screwing with her. This was some sort of sick revenge for not going to get cheese cake and ice cream. He didn’t really want to be here with her. She looked up at him and in a voice sweeter than honey said, “I’m here because you asked me. What other reason could there be?”

“Oh,” he said, pulling her harder, “t-there’s another reason. A b-bigger reason.”

He started moving across the floor faster. They spun so quickly she started to get dizzy. She felt him moving his hand on her back up higher.

“A-are you ready?” he asked.

Before she could answer, he took his hand off her back and forced her into a spin. A spin she didn’t know how to control. She felt like she was flying across the floor. She crashed into someone, knocking this person, whoever it was, onto the floor and falling herself.

“Shit,” she said, trying to get up. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my fault. I’m so sorry.” She looked over at the person she’d hit and saw the black spiky hair she usually saw only from a distance. She had knocked over Chip.