How Can I Keep Dancing? [ON HOLD]

How Can I Keep Dancing? ~~~ Chapter 6 ~~~

“Wow.” I say, running my hand over the rim. “What do you think you’ll call it? Do you have a name?”

He smiles a crooked smile. “I have a few ideas, but nothing solid yet. All this needs is some painting and waxing and then it will be ready.”

“Ready for what in particular?”

He gives me a genuine smile. “I’m taking you on a sailing trip.”

I gape at him, and then compose myself. “You know, you still need to ask me.”

“I figured you’d say yes.”

“Well, you figured right. The only problem is getting my mother to agree.”

He chuckles. “We’ll see.”

We were silent for a moment, both of us looking over his handy-work. Then I remember my reasons for being here.

“My father is back from Europe.”

“By the tone of your voice, I take it that’s not good.”

“No, no! It’s a great thing. It’s just that he’s away a lot lately.”

“You miss him don’t you?”

I nod.

“Well, what are you doing here with me? You should be spending time with your dad.”

“I will later. I just needed to see you and to tell you something.”

He looks at me patiently.

“How would you like to escort me to the Opera on Wednesday evening?”

“Sure,” he says without blinking

I stare at him. “What? I thought you were going to say that you’d prefer not to.”

“If you want me to go, then sure. I’d like to see what it’s like in your world for a night.”

“You’re going to have to wear a suit.”

“Then I’ll buy myself a suit.”

“You’re taking this all very smoothly. Have you been to the Opera before?”

“No. But I might as well go while I’m still young.”

“Oh, alright then. My father has us both box tickets. We’ll be attending with my family.”

He looks confused. “I would have thought your father would disapprove of us.”

“Actually, he’s happy for me. A little worried at how young I am, but he trusts me.”

“I’d like to meet this man that makes you so happy.”

“You will on the night of the opera. Shall we meet you there?”

“Sure. I’ll be waiting out the front…”

“Maybe in the lobby. Standing out the front at a function like this would look a little shabby.”

“Alright then, the lobby it is.”

We smile at each other for a moment before I look away to the ground. “I am grateful that you’re doing this for me, Eli. Thank you.”

He steps forward. “Anytime, Ducky, anytime.”

We were both silent for a long moment, and for a moment, it felt like we were back on that street, our lips almost touching.

But then he clears his throat and smiles. “So did you feel like doing anything this afternoon?”

I look around the shed for a moment, and then with a cheeky grin I look back to him. “How about we give some of this furniture some paint?”

His grin matches mine, though he was obviously not concerned about a woman helping him. “Sure. You’ll need to get some dirtier clothes on first, though. Those ones look too pristine to get ruined yet.”

He ends up lending me an old blouse of his, which I had to roll up the sleeves of for my hands to come back into view. In public, this would be a humiliation, but with Elijah, this was fun. Letting people see me in this state, my mother would surely flip. But as I begin to take a paintbrush and stroke white paint onto the surface of the boat, my worries of anything else, even James Meade, were pushed aside.

Our conversation was easy and fun, and full of giggles when paint started flying. At first it was across the room, and my squeals were shortly covered by my laughter. Then I manage to get the paintbrush across his arm, which he got me back by touching the paint to my cheek, and back and forth it went until I finally saw the necessity of the mess-shirt. It was a full on war between us, and soon I almost have his face covered in white, when he pins me against the wall, threatening me with the paintbrush with his trademark cheeky grin.

“Mercy!” I giggle. “I give in!”

His thumb was on my cheek, where I was fairly sure the paint was, and he looks as though he was at first cleaning it away from me. His body was pressed against mine, and his arms were holding me in place. Our eyes meet for a long second and in that second, all of our friendly teasing is gone, and in its place, I can see on his face, was deep affection. Desire almost. I didn’t have time to think about how many girls had seen that look before me, because suddenly our lips were locked together.

It was the moment I’d been hoping for for almost a month. As much as I intensely enjoyed the fun teasing and all the time we’d spent together, but it was nothing compared to this. His firm lips were mashed against mine in a soft and slow kiss. It didn’t take me long to respond, and very quickly I was moving my mouth against his too. He tasted of apples and cinnamon. Whatever the taste, it was amazing. His tongue was running along my lower lip, and I feel my legs go weak with pleasure. It felt as though his arms were the only things holding me up anymore, as my brain was no longer processing anything out of intellect anymore. All that existed was Elijah. I was drowning in him, his chest firmly against mine, his heart beating loudly in tune with my own thumping heart. James Meade had been close to me this afternoon, but very quickly his touch was wiped clean by Elijah’s.

His hands begin to run through my hair, and mine do the same, holding his face to mine. I trail my hands from his hair down to his cheeks, then down his shoulders and finishing on his chest, running them up and down. Soon the kiss turns from soft and sweet to something a little more rougher. We’d been fighting with paint moments before, and now it was a war between our lips, both of ours locked in an epic battle of desire. Nothing could compare to this. Nothing could compare to the pleasure or happiness that Elijah was giving me.

Then all too soon, it felt like, it was over. Elijah pulls back and stares into my eyes with a deep and thoughtful look. His hand was slowly caressing my cheek and I look up at him with a feeling of that I was the single most fascinating thing to Elijah at that moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says softly, and my heart swells.

Then responsibility seems to step in as I realize the time.

“I have to go.”

We both look outside, the sun was setting quickly, and I knew that my mother would be wondering where I was. Slowly and reluctantly, Elijah steps back from me. I instinctively check over myself for paint, taking off the shirt and laying it over a hook.

“I’ll see you tomorrow again.” I say to him.

“Sure,” he says giving me a half-smile, though he definitely doesn’t look happy by my leaving. That was mutual.

Without a second thought, I step up to him and plant my lips onto his again.

***

That night, though I was largely enjoying myself with my father once again, my mind couldn’t stop drifting towards Elijah again. His face fills my mind and I instinctively touch my fingers to my lips again when I think that no one is looking. But of course, my father notices everything, but he doesn’t question my quirky happiness. Instead he seems to celebrate it further, telling me that he hasn’t seen me this happy in a very long time. (“Not since you were ten years old and got your first bicycle”).

Tuesday was language – mainly French. And when my lesson ended, I again rode to Elijah’s again, but this time we didn’t bother with much work this time, both of us riding down to our secret river and enjoying the sun, while both of us continue what we started.