Page 49 of The Lottery

When the song ends, it is followed by a slower number. Astrid and I pull apart and I am hopeful I can get back to the table and my glass of champagne.

The chief engineer has something else in mind.

“Hey, stand in for me, I have to use the restroom.”

Her words are lost on me until I see she is talking just past my shoulder.

To Azalea.

Azalea’s mouth hangs open, and before either of us has a chance to speak or react, Astrid pushes us together. When I feel Azalea’s body against mine, all I can think is that I do not ever want to let go.

Astrid smiles at us, proud of her handiwork, then struts away.

Once she is off the dance floor, it is only Azalea and myself. Our eyes meet, our faces close enough to kiss, our bodies begging for us to do so while outside forces pull us apart.

“Where is Robert?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“He went to get food,” Azalea replies. “Says he’s not much of a dancer.”

Our feet slowly move to the rhythm, her left hand held in my right, my left hand wrapped around her waist.

This moment is wrong in many ways, yet everything about it feels right.

“And you?” I ask. “Do you enjoy dancing?”

My gaze falls down to her beautiful lips as they curl into a small smile.

“Sometimes.”

The world around us is quickly fading away. I can see only her. The dark strand of hair swaying before her eyebrows. The bead of sweat running down her temple. My body runs on primal instinct, pulling her a little closer as our hips sway. Her eyes widen a bit, but she only tightens her grip on me in response.

If asked, I will pass this off as an innocent dance. In truth, it is anything but.

I need this woman. I do not know how much longer I can willfully deprive myself.

When the song comes to an end, the last piano chord dying out so slowly I can still hear it even now, it is like being broken out of a trance. We step away, our cheeks flush, both of us once again aware of our surroundings.

“I’m… I’m going to find Astrid,” Azalea stammers. She hesitates a moment as if she wishes to say something more, then rushes away without another word.

I am left on the dance floor, feeling awkward and empty, unable to take my eyes off Azalea until she has made it to the hallway and left my sight.

I move back to the table, grateful that I am at least alone. Robert is still at the food stand, talking and laughing with Ivan. I will happily take this time to drink by myself.

When I finish my first glass of champagne and start to pour another, Astrid returns to her seat.

“What’s all this? Where’s your dance partner?”

“Did you not see her in the bathroom?” I have no real cause for alarm, yet I cannot ignore the uneasy feeling that settles in my stomach.

“No, I’ve been… I was visiting another table,” Astrid answers. “Has she been gone long? Did you get to dance at all?”

Her question sits just outside the parameters of my attention, and I am unable to give it proper consideration as a flare of worry pierces my gut.

I do not like to admit how much of my success can be attributed to following my instincts, but I have never gone wrong in doing so.

I make my excuses and follow the path Azalea took, letting myself into the hallway that leads to the bathrooms.

Halfway down the hall, I hear harsh words.

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