Raising a Hero

Chapter 33

"It's okay. I've never done this either," said Gus.

Milly snorted. "Oh, aren't you sad. Come here, chit, I'll dance with you."

"What? No! I ain't dancing with you—" he cut short at my chilling gaze.

Milly smiled wide. "He learns. Now, take my hand."

"We're both all grimy."

"Oh boo, man up. I'll teach you how to do it, so thank me."

My boy looked particularly grumpy and put out as the broad Milly dragged him towards the fire, still diminutive compared to her size.

Leaving Derrick and I standing awkwardly next to each other, a faint expectation left behind in the air. People about us chattered and laughed, their shadows stretched long and flickering against the city walls by the orange light. Somewhere nearby, a dog barked.

"So, um..." I wiped my hands on my skirt. "You ever done that?"

"Mostly when I was a kid," said Derrick, also wiping his hands, though on his sleeves, which didn't do much as they were still striped in soot from his work. "Would you like me to teach you? Though, I don't know how well I'll do."

"As long as you don't step on my feet. Moderately certain you'd crush those, no offense."

"None taken. I'm a big guy." He reached out his big hand.

Even though I could feel nervous jitters racing up and down my body, I also felt excited as I put my hand into his.

Finally. Some well-deserved fun.

Derrick started off like two left-feet, but once he got comfortable holding my hands and giving directions, it wasn't long before we too were swinging around the fire, our hands sometimes only holding together by virtue of his rough calluses for the sweat. At some point he took hold of my waist and swung me into the air with such ease, I felt like a little girl again, flying through the air. The laughter it triggered was the lightest, most carefree sound I'd managed to make since...since...

I didn't know when.

Sad memories of other happy times, which then proved to be lies, crashed and died against the wall of my joy. Despite the heat of the fire, I kept returning back to the fire with Derrick, swinging in circles until he'd lift me up again and spin me round, my white skirts aflutter like clouds.

And then, a thin hand caught my arm tight.

"Me," Gus panted. "This time with me."

Not understanding how he could look so grumpy at a time like this, I chirped my agreement and pulled him back into the circle.

The top of Gus's head just reached my chin. It was a big difference from the tower of Derrick, who could easily rest his entire neck on the top of my head. His hands shook as he pulled me around, jerky and unsure. He couldn't seem to look at me either, watching everything else, our hands, my skirts, our feet, my braid waving out behind us or besides my face.

"It'd probably help if you looked at my face," I said breathlessly. "And stop trying so hard."

"I don't want to step on you," he said, but he finally forced himself to meet my gaze.

There, his ruby eyes stuck like glue, glittering from the firelight.

We spun. I flipped my skirts. He arched his arm above him, his shoulders having begun to broaden towards manhood.

"There you go," I felt high with delight. "We'll make a dancer of you yet."

"Why?"

"So you can woo yourself a wife when you're all grown up. Make me some babies to hug." I just managed to not call them 'grandbabies.'

His panting mouth smirked. "You almost said 'grandbabies,' didn't you?"

"I learn, unlike a certain someone."

"No, you don't."

And in a quick rush he grabbed hold of my waist and lifted me into the air.

I squawked, holding onto his shoulders, which weren't as thin as the last time I had held them.

He plunked me down, probably just managing not to drop me entirely.

"I'm not your baby. And you're not my mom."

His gaze on me then burned just as hot and hard as the fire next to us.

It unrooted a swarmy, unpleasant feeling within me that sent needle-like prickles up my back.

As though somehow sensing he'd gone too far, he let go of me, said he was tired with a half-made smile, and trotted back to the side where Milly and Derrick looked to be considering taking their own round about the fire.

...Did my scrawny little boy just manage to lift me?

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It's weird going through my old author's comments and seeing what was happening at the time. Apparently I was really sick the day I originally put up this chapter. It's been a while since I've been sick. I mean, I got sort of a cold for three days this week. Maybe that means I'm healthy even if I don't look like a porn model? ...Why do I feel gross for saying that sentence? Yuck. Well, I mean, I want to be curvy sexy, not 'I'm a rail thin stick with marshmallows, put cloth on me and watch me walk.'