Swaying in the Brickhouse
untitled
Sitting in a semi-circle in a crowded room full of perspiration and heavy breathing would never seem like a great position to be in. But yesterday night, I wouldn’t have chosen any other place to be. I was centered right in line with the lead vocalist as he sang tunes dating as far back as the 1920s. By my right sitting cross-legged was my best friend whom I followed to every show, acoustic or electric. To my left was her ex-crush; a band junkie though not performing tonight. The guitar strings sent their vibrations into my veins as we clapped to the beat and swayed to the sound.
Out of the corner of my eye, something was giving off a radiance I couldn’t easily ignore. I turned my head and saw the cause. “Oh,” I thought to myself, “him.” his eyes were especially sparkly tonight. But his eyes weren’t the first thing I noticed. No, it was definitely something else that had nothing to do with his physical traits which grabbed me. He just seemed so happy to be there, drowning in music, swimming with capos and bar chords. His eyes never left the stage, and it would be a miracle if his ears could register anything else but the sounds coming out of amplifiers. This made me happy, too.
I had been talking to him for a while now. We’re even friends. Of course, I knew I liked him. Liking somebody comes obviously; it’s the love part that makes us stop ourselves and mull over what could come next. Personally, I think it’s a waste of time to contemplate love, because it’s something that comes so naturally. Yet I’m still one of so many that sit for hours thinking about love because I had been hurt my fair share of times.
But not that night. That night, I knew I was far beyond just liking him. But because of basic instinct, I stopped myself before I could say love, though in the back of my mind I knew it was a more perfect word to describe it. Whatever came over me in the next few moments, I blame entirely on emotion and spontaneity. The side I try so hard to cover up came out from its hiding place. It was the real me that I experienced in the next few moments, and that’s probably why I say it came out of spontaneity. I mean, we wouldn’t dare show our real selves to the people we like…would we?
My palms were sweating for reasons that had nothing to do with the temperature. In fact, it was rather cold in the room in spite of my hands. I knew I had to do it.
“Curtis,” I whispered. He was sitting to the right of my best friend, but gave no reaction.
“Curtis,” I whispered again. Still nothing. My best friend noticed that I was attempting to get his attention, so she nudged him in the side. He looked over at me and my heart was reacting in a way that nearly betrayed me. I turned my face away out of shyness, but easily met his eyes again.
“Hi,” I mustered. He smiled. I matched.
“Hi,” he said. Nanoseconds passed before I said it.
“Do you wanna dance?”
At first, I was uncertain what his facial expressions read. They conveyed both shock and a look that might have asked if I was crazy.
“What?” He asked. “Dance?”
I went over to him. People were watching. He was still sitting so I sort of crouched down and grabbed his hands. My eyes wouldn’t leave his.
“C’mon,” I told him. “Dance with me.” I could tell he thought I was crazy. I thought the same. I tried to pull him up, but his butt was stuck as if rooted to the ground.
“What?!”
“C’mon, Curt!”
He looked very uncertain. As if I was asking him to donate an organ. Within the few moments of silence, I noticed his hands weren’t fighting away. They were holding on. Though the area of which we were conjoined was stationary, his eyes were still filled with nerves.
“Sit down, Chelsea!” He said to me. I admit my heart sank a little. Until I realized that he still wasn’t fighting my hands.
“Now what do you want to do?” He asked. “Dance with me?”
“…Yeah,” I said shyly. I could feel the corners of my mouth trembling even though I didn’t have to force my smile. He was still smiling, too.
“In front of all these people? They’re gonna stare!” He said in a quiet tone. My hands went limp in false disappointment.
“We don’t even know half these people,” I said to him, “and who cares what they think, anyway?” His eyes finally left mine. He was still smiling his uncertain smile.
“C’mon, Curt,” I said, “make my day.” I gained eye contact again and the blow was powerful enough to knock me back. He kept on giving me loopholes and even named off other guys I could dance with. But even though one could tell he was fighting me on the outside, I knew he was only being shy. I mean, his hands were still firm in my own. When I finally had the last word, (which I’m pretty sure was “Curt,” by the way), his eyes dropped down to our hands, as did mine. It seemed like eras before he answered, but I didn’t mind our silent connection. Our eyes had caught each other once more, and this time, my heart really had it in for me. His smile was electric but my feelings were acoustic.
“Alright,” he answered.
After that, I can barely remembered what happened. I remember helping him to an upright position. I remember the one moment we stared at each other wordlessly asking “Are you ready?” And I remember the voltage that bursted from my waist where he placed his hands. I could tell he was nervous from everybody watching; everybody was. People sitting in the semi-circle were watching and the people behind us kept their eyes fixed. I could tell he was trying to avoid eye contact with me.
“Curt,” I said. I figured that word might be lucky somehow. His eyes met mine as they had many times that night. He smiled and my body felt numb. We talked about things that made him laugh and made me smile. And I’m not talking playful grins…I’m talking ear-to-ear smiles. We were near the amps. Whatever the vocalist was singing was beautiful. Of course, static could have been played at that moment and I still would have found it beautiful. There was heat all over my body and I was oblivious to the draft in the crowded room. Our torsos fit together like pieces of a puzzle that had been completed. Silence had overtaken us once more, but it was perfect. I rested my head on his chest and looked out into the crowd. I could see almost every eye on us. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest and wondered if he could feel my breathing as well. We swayed like an ocean wave in circles. Had we been out in the ocean, I’m certain my heart would’ve floated away. I wanted so bad to taste his lips, but I knew it wouldn’t have been appropriate. Not now. Not when we’re still so exposed to doubt. Maybe some other time.
Like all good songs, it came to a stop. Both he and I remained motionless though our arms still wrapped around each other. Then I held him. Or he held me. I can’t remember. But I know that all our insecurities seemed to have washed away with the waves we danced to. I let go. Or he let go. I can’t remember. We stood facing each other as if it were a happy ending.
“Thank you so much, Chelsea,” he said.
I was nearly stunned. Did he just thank me? Did he actually believe that I had control over that and my emotions were in check? Blood rushed to all parts of my body. He had…enjoyed it. After that, he didn’t care what people thought of him dancing in their way. I knew we became something more than just friends, if for but a mere two minutes. My day had been made. I knew he’d be the last person I thought about before I went to bed.
“You’re welcome,” I said through smiling lips. I feel now that I should be myself more often.
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