I'm Just Dancing

The Backyard

"Hello there," I can't tell what sort of tone he is using. It sounds a little flirtatious but I am positive that can't be the case.

"General Kenobi," it's not a good Grievous impression but it makes him laugh and that's what matters.

"I mean no offence by this," I prepare myself to feel offended, "but, I'm a little suprised that you watch starwars."

I can't help but make a face, "who hasn't seen at least some starwars?"

"I would say everyone has seen some, but you just quoted a film that has only been out for 5 months to me. So I am willing to bet you have seen them all."

"What an observation. Yes, I have. Does this mean I get to say I'm suprised you recognized this version of Willy Wonka?"

"Troy actually had to stop me from coming in a matching outfit. I'm glad I didn't though, I knew you'd look better than me." I can't tell if he's blushing but I sure am.

"Well, thank you." I look back up at the sky.

"Tell me about this spot." His voice sounds calm, like a child asking for their favourite bed time story.

"The long story or the short version?" He curls in his lips as he thinks.

"The version that makes you most comfortable to tell." I truthfully can't say if I've ever gotten that response before.

"Sharpay didn't want a treehouse, so we didn't get a treehouse. I wanted somewhere that I could go if I needed to get away from her for a little bit. So somethime in the third or fourth grade I stole extra camping chairs and this table from the attic. We never go camping anyway. You can't see this spot from any of the windows because of the slope of the lawn and the landscaper is the only person who ever comes to the end of the properpity. It's a good place to be alone, to get away if you can't actually go anywhere.

"If this is you're alone spot then why haul two chairs out?" He looks genuinely confused and I am really not up to telling him that I always thought I would show a friend this spot some day.

"I was in third grade, do you any more questions?" I try to laugh as I say it but I think he can tell it's a lie.

His eyes widen a little bit like he's thinking of something very important. "Why were you yelling when you came outside?"

I blush a little, "I wasn't yelling." Deflecting isn't going to work twice in a row but I can try.

"So then what would you call that?" He looks up and we lock eyes.

"I uh, it," I look down at the ground to try and regain my composure. His eyes are so deep here in the dark, "you're gonna laugh at me. It's really dumb."

"Maybe," He shrugs. "You won't find out for sure until you tell me."

"I thought you were working with Sharpay," his laugh sounds more a bark, short and loud. "See? I told you it was dumb."

"I swear that I am not laughing at you. Just the thought of me working /with/ Sharpay. Come on dude. So, what sort of evil scheme did you think I was in on?" He gets that stupid grin again, it's like truth serum.

"She swears that she is throwing this whole party just to be nice, but like, this is what she does." I look back into his eyes and he seems a little lost, "It's hard to keep up with what she is doing for personal gain and what she thinks is kindness because she still believes being kind is just a tool to getting what you want." I didn't realize I was as frustrated about this as I am, I don't mean to be trash talking her. "I just wish she could show others the good parts of herself."

"You think I helped her...plan this party?" It hits me that I wasn't answering the question.

"No, I thought she did this to get to Troy and she had you distract me." It sounds so dumb saying it outloud.

"Why do you care so much if she get's with him?" I open my mouth but nothing comes out, I don't know why. Because it's wrong, because he's basketball and we are drama and those two clicks don't like eachother, because I liked him first and why should she get him if I couldn't, because they would be a terrible couple, because in eighth grade he called me a faggot and I don't believe he's matured at all.

"Do you like Troy?" He pulls his hand off mine.

"What? No, of course not." I bite my tongue before finishing with /he's a dumb jock./

"Do you hate him?" he isn't asking it with an angry tone but fear floods me anyway. It hadn't fully hit that I am out here, in the dark, alone, with a boy who could very easily hurt me if he wanted to. He's being nice but the panic gripping my chest isn't going away. The thought that he is just another lunkhead sports player watching for me to make one wrong move isnt going away.

"I-I want...t-to go back to the house. You can stay here if you want," I start to run, the slope of the lawn works against me. He catches up to me about half way to the house and slides in front of me, "listen I'm sorry, please just." I hold up my hands close to my chest, palms out towards him. It's reflex.

He puts his up too, like he is showing that isn't starting a fight, "hey, I'm sorry okay. I shouldn't have pressed you like that. Do you want me to go home so you can enjoy the rest of your night?" I lower my hands back to my side only once I see him doing the same.

Leave? "No! I don't want you to leave I just...not every sportsboy at a party has been as nice to me as you are being right now." Oh my god, I just want to calm down, not be that kid sharing their trauma at the party.

"How about to make we just go back inside. We can get a drink, dance some more." I just need to calm down. Chad isn't Troy.

"Okay. I won't press you about it anymore, promise." I stick my pinky out mostly as a joke and he wraps his around. "See? Now if I mess up you get to break my pinky, I should be one afraid."

I straighten up to finish walking to the house, trying my best to appear confident about what just happened "What kind of drink do you want?"

"Surprise me." I do love a challenge.