Page 86 of When the Lights Come On
“Paige.” She’s started shaking a little, and I don’t pay attention to who might be watching. I just wrap my arm around her and shift my body closer to her. “It’s okay.”
“I don’t know how to be anything else,” she murmurs, “but I don’t think I even get a choice. I alreadyamsomething else, and it scares me.”
“Yeah.” I stroke her back. “Yeah, I get that.”
“I think I need to—”
She pauses when the song that’s playing fades out and switches to a synth intro. I feel a spark of familiarity at the sound. After the first few notes, my brain catches up and realizes what track it is: ‘Indian Summer’ by Jai Wolf.
Paige had this on a playlist we were listening to one day back when she still had her sling. It’s one of my favourite songs of the past decade, and I loved it even more after hearing her laugh and call me an idiot while I danced to it in her kitchen as I put a load of groceries away.
The song starts building into a tinkling, heart-swelling lift that raises the hairs on the back of my neck as everyone in the room tunes into the same frequency. It’s one of those songs that makes you feel like you’re in the final scene of a movie, right at the part when the dialogue fades and the music swells as the camera pans out to show the girl and the guy walking down a city street together or the gang of kids riding their bikes up a dirt road or the mother hugging her son in the doorway. It’s a song that puts things into perspective and makes you feel connected to everyone and everything around you for just a few minutes in time.
“Paige.” I know she was about to say she needed some air. I know she already told me she wasn’t going to dance tonight, but I’m already drunk on the music, and I can’t let this moment go without trying.
We’ve missed too many of our moments already.
I stand up and offer her my hand.
She hesitates, still looking up at my face, her eyes wide and searching. Then she lets me help her to her feet.
“I’m nervous,” she mutters as we get closer to the dance floor. “Why am I nervous?”
I chuckle, a bit breathless with my own nerves. “You’re intimidated by my sick moves.”
She scoffs. “If you bust out any sick moves, I’m leaving.”
“Duly noted.”
We reach the floor and find a spot amongst all my dancing relatives. Aaliyah catches my eye over Paige’s shoulder. She’s jumping around with a few of her bridesmaids, and she flashes me a double thumbs up like the dork she is.
She looks beautiful tonight.
“Uh, so, I’m not supposed to lift this arm above my shoulder.” Paige points at her injured arm. She’s still got her wrist splint on, and somehow, it kind of works with her outfit.
I step closer, feeling more and more like an awkward teenager as the significance of this moment dawns. We’ve never really danced together before. We made some joking attempts at it in high school, but we’ve never done the whole ‘get dressed up and hold each other on a dance floor’ thing. She flat-out refused to go to prom.
“Okay, well, you can put that here then.” I guide her injured hand to my waist and then take the other one in mine. “And then I’ll hold this here, and my other one can go on your...bicep? I can’t really hold your shoulder, can I?”
She tips her head back and laughs at my awkward grip on her arm. “It looks like you’re trying to kidnap me. Here.” She steps close enough that we’re just a breath away from being chest to chest. “Now you can put it on my back.”
I don’t know why the sensation of laying my palm between her shoulder blades almost knocks the wind out of me. I’ve had her nearly naked half a dozen times over the past few weeks, but this is somehow more intense. The fabric of her dress is so soft, and I can feel the shift of her muscles and spine beneath it as we start to sway.
It’s really not a slow dancing song, but I don’t care. I draw her in even closer, and in the low lights with all the golden party decorations glittering around us, it’s like I’m noticing every detail about her for the first time all over again: the smell of her hair, the swoop of her eyelashes, the little hollow where her collarbones meet just above the neckline of her dress.
I want to kiss her there. I want to kiss her everywhere. I want to tilt her head back and kiss her mouth right here in front of everyone. When I look at her, I can’t ignore the truth—about anything. She makes all the answers clear. So as the song reaches its final crescendo and everyone around me throws their arms in the air the way music like this demands from its audience, I lean in and let myself do exactly what I want to do.
