Page 55 of Commitment Issues
“I’m terrible. Cosmo always says I have two moves: somebody who thrashes around like he’s just been tasered, or like I’m trying to wade through concrete that’s setting around my feet. I just think I have my own unique style.” He chuckles, and I pull him closer.
“Oh, I don’t know, I think he’s wrong. You’re nothing like that good.”
Freddie snorts, but I know he’s smiling. The music ends, but we stay as we are, holding on tight. I don’t want to let him go. He feels good in my arms, just right. I breath in deep and saturate my senses in the light citrus of his shampoo, wishing for this moment never to end.
The band strikes up another number, faster and livelier and made for dancing. Freddie eases back out of my arms and I’m already missing the warmth.
“I think this is where I do my impression of a human taser.”
The beat of the music’s infectious and Freddie starts to dance, taking my hands and pulling me further into the improvised dance floor. He and Cosmo are wrong. Every move he makes is sharp and clean. He’s smiling and his face is flushed, whether from champagne or the dance we shared, I don’t know, but he’s full of life, and that’s infectious and I dance, in what feels like a lifetime, for the sheer joy of it.
All around us, the dancing grows more unrestrained and wild, and we’re part of it, caught up in the maelstrom. Somewhere along the way, we’ve discarded our jackets and ties, and loosened our shirts.
We dance, number after number, hips and arses and cocks nudging, every little bump into each other lightening up my body. It’s uninhibited and carefree, but I dance for Freddie and he dances for me, as though we’re the only two on the dance floor. The music comes to an end and there’s an announcement that the band are going to take a small break. Like everybody, we cheer and clap them, before we stagger, laughing, over to a small table. I beckon to a waiter for a couple of cold beers.
“Oh, that was great. I can’t remember when I last had so much fun. In fact, I can’t remember when I last danced.” The beers arrive and I upend my bottle, glugging back the cold lager, before I press the bottle, damp with icy condensation, to my brow.
“I can’t remember either. I hardly ever go out. If I’m not at my studies, I’m stacking up tinned beans on a night shift in the supermarket.” Freddie’s mouth twists into a wry grin.
“You’re too young not to go out and have some fun. When we’re back in London we’ll go to a jazz club I know. The food’s great and the music’s to die for.” His eyes widen and his lips make anO. “We could do that as friends, maybe ask James and Cosmo if they’d like to come,” I say hastily, covering my gaffe.
“James and Cosmo? Erm, yes. Okay.”
We both glug our drinks back, and I beckon for two more without asking. My cheeks are burning, and I’m relieved he won’t spot that in the flickering lights.
The band returns from their break and dive into another number.
“Do you want to dance again?” Freddie asks, and I shake my head.
“But don’t let me stop you. I said from the very beginning I wanted you to have a good time on this trip.”
“I am having a good time.”
“But wouldn’t you have a better time up there?” I nod towards the dance floor. And he would, because he’s young and should dance as much as he can.
“I’m very happy where I am.”
A simple statement. He wants to stay with me. It goes straight to my heart, and I have no idea what to say.
We sit back and watch the goings-on on the dance floor. Andrew and Marcus are doing something strange with their bodies, getting into knots as they attempt to do what looks like some sort of salsa. Next to me Freddie shifts in his seat and yawns and when I turn to look at him, he gives me a small smile.
“Sorry. It’s been a long day. All the champagne and beer have caught up with me. The weather’s changed, too. It feels hotter now than earlier, and kind of heavy.”
And he’s right. It’s a close, sticky hotness, and electricity crackles in the air.
“I think we’ll have a storm in the night.”
“I hope so because I love them. All that power. Like the Norse gods fighting,” Freddie says, with a laugh. “I’m ready to go back, if you are? Maybe we could have some of that tea you’ve got hidden.”
I am happy to go, and a cuppa sounds like a good idea, but admitting that would make me sound too much like an old man. A cup of tea before bedtime, maybe add a custard cream or two, and put my slippers on. Jesus Christ. I look around for Andrew and Marcus, to say goodnight, but they’re now stumbling around the dance floor, clutching onto each other like two wrestlers.
“Come on.” I stand and hold out my hand to Freddie to pull him up, and we slip away, along the path towards the cottage, leaving the wedding party behind us.
