Page 39 of Strawberry Kisses

“But don’t worry, I’ll keep the instructions going, so all you’ve gotta do is follow me. Are we all good to go?” he asked, hopping back up on the stage. The band itself consisted of a drummer, guitarist, and fiddler, and the caller perched himself on a low stool in front of a mic, picking up an accordion and playing a couple of notes to warm up.

The same calm and tense excitement I always felt before I danced warmed my veins. It didn’t matter what I was doing—ballet, pole, or in this case, folk dancing—it was always the same. This was my happy place, and I already knew I’d be dancing every single dance. Hopefully, I’d be able to convince Patrick to join me for at least one. Maybe two.

The music began and off we went. It was an easy dance with couples winding their way around each other and some simple spins. Even so, it was faster than I’d anticipated. I laughed as I spun Mary around, then passed her off to the next person in the line while I spun the person who’d been next to her around before Mary and I met again in the middle. We continued down the line until we reached the end, happy and gasping. The line was pretty long, but soon we’d made it back to the top and off we went again.

The first dance lead to another and then a third, each with a brief breather in the middle. I threw off my jacket, putting it on the bench next to Patrick and pressing a hurried, happy kiss to his cheek. I wasn’t going to pressure him. He’d come to me when he was ready.

And sure enough, he did, two dances later.

“Can I join you?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“Of course!” I was hot and sweaty and probably looked a fucking mess, but I didn’t care. I took his hand and we joined one of the little circles we’d been separated into for this dance. I stood on Patrick’s left, holding his hand and listening to the instructions. I didn’t think it could be more perfect.

Except it was because after the dance he was grinning and squeezing my hand, leading me into place for the next dance, the last one before a break between the sets. This one was bouncier, and when he spun me around, his hands locked in mine, I’d never felt more alive. It was so fast that I knew if he let me go, I’d go flying, but his grip was like iron, holding me steady, and I knew I was safe in his hands. A fierce, wild joy flooded my veins as the music sung through me, Patrick’s hands warm against me, anchoring me to him.

As the song ended, he pulled me close to him, our chests heaving and sweat beading on our skin.

There was so much unspoken between us, but I’d never felt closer to him.

---