33Chapter Twenty-Three
The gala was being held on two floors of McLeod Manor's basement. The lower level was for the older guests, but the one above it was reserved for the teenagers. Having never explored the mansion, I didn't realize it had two ballrooms concealed within its walls.
Gavin and I waltzed down to the floor our age group's dance was being held on. Just as I was about to admire the ten-foot-tall mahogany doors leading to the dance floor, a voice stopped me. "Sruun! Oh my God! I can't believe it's you!" I looked up. In front of me was a girl just a year or two younger than me. I'd seen her face before but I didn't remember her name. "It's a small world, huh?" She chirped; I'd met her at the president's speech before the Arlington Massacre. She'd been the girl sitting next to me, but I couldn't find her name anywhere in my memory banks.
"Yeah," I chuckled a fake chuckle, even so, it was convincing. "It's a small world. So, who's this captivating stud you've wrangled?" Names were so last season.
"He is, isn't he?" She sang dreamily. "This is Lenny! He's my boyfriend!" I looked at the fellow. He had broad shoulders and his hair was spiked, making him appear taller than he was. He wore a white tux, but unlike most people in one, it seemed natural on him.
"Enough with the chit-chat, let's go in!" The girl whose name was lost took my hand in the one not occupied by Lenny's and ran into the ballroom.
Live music was playing, punch was bubbling, and party-goers were queuing up along the snack tables. It was a pleasant image.
Within thirty minutes, the party became lively and jubilant. After the band sang a rendition of "I Wanna Be a VIP", to which Lenny (who was more reserved than even me) hummed along, Sir Harold clambered onto the stage. Holding the mike firmly in one hand, Sir Harold began speaking.
"Het there, Ladies and Germs, this next song is pretty self-explanatory, so here it goes!"
Sir Harold began to sing; "It's my party and I'll sing if I wanna, sing if I wanna. You would sing too if you had my total net worth!" The last, out of rhythm part was thrown out on the last note, which became flatter and flatter.
For his next song, Sir Harold began a pattern of stomp-stomp-clap; most of the audience joined in. "We will, we will poke you!" The crowd came to love this version of another old song, even inventing a simple dance for it. Gavin and I however, moved to the punchbowl, bored. I started to dip me some into a red disposable cup but upon catching a whiff of it, I decided otherwise; it smelled spiked. Instead, we opted to share a can of cola.
"You aint nothin' but a kitty cat!" Sir Harold swiveled his hips remarkably well for an old guy. "Purrin' all the time. You aint never caught a rat and you aint no friend of mine!"
A few minutes later, I heard the scratching of a roach, or maybe a beatle. "Hey Jade, don't make it bad." My gut instinct told me Sir Harold was just trying to warm up to Jade, sort of like a friend her own age. The problem was, Jade didn't particularly like Sir Harold, and they were no where near each other in age.
Leading into his next song, the four guitarists, drummer, and a few other instrumentalists began playing energetically. This one had a faster tempo and was a different style of rock than its predecessor had been; from the accompaniment, the song sounded a lot like Skater Rock, or maybe some form of Pop. Then, before I could analyze the song any more, Sir Harold was singing again. Although he didn't refer to her specifically, I had a feeling he was still singing about her; he stared passionately at her.
"Aidyn's mom has got it going on! She's all I want and I've waited for so long! I know it might be wrong, but I'm in love with Aidyn's mom!"
From a few tables ahead of Gavin and I, I heard Jade voice her confusion about the song. "Who the—" Jade used the religious term for where bad people went when they died. "—is Aidyn?"
Having decided that moving to Sir Harold's poorly-done karaoke parodies wasn't my niche, I led Gavin to Jade's table, where she sat watching Leon.
When we sat down, she exploded in laughter. "I can't believe he actually did it!" She pointed at Leon and covered her mouth.
"Did what?" Gavin asked.
"I didn't think he would, but he did!" She choked out in between her laughing fits.
"What did he do?" Gavin asked again.
"He went and talked to them!" Jade spluttered. Why this was funny, Gavin and I would probably never know.
After a few more obnoxious solos of Sir Harold's, he finally got off the stage, allowing the professionals to play and sing again. Sir Harold disappeared into the crowd of people and reappeared moments later, sitting down in a chair at our table with a glass of punch in hand. Stradling the chair, he sighed contentedly.
"Erma and I agree that that was fun." He placed his cup to his lips.
"I wouldn't drink that if I were you." I warned.
"That's all fine and dandy, but I'm going to quench my thirst." He threw his head back and drained the clear plastic cup. After one glass, he coughed violently for several minutes and when he regained the ability to breathe, his eyes were glazed over and bloodshot. He turned to Jade and wheezed hopefully "Erma and I don't like peach preserves but we wonder if they would taste swell if we slurped them from your armpit through a bendy straw."
"Is that a pick-up line?" I joked.
"What-hic-kind of-hic-question is th-hic-at? Of course it-hic-is a p-hic up line!" An inebriated Sir Harold McLeod wagged a finger in my direction.
"At least he's honest," Gavin shrugged.
"Hey hot lips, lay-hic-one on me." Sir Harold dazedly instructed while puckering up.
Jade socked him, spinning the poor fellow around in his seat. Like a swan with a cinder block tied to its neck, Sir Harold landed on the floor.
"Oh-hic-bartender, I-hic-want another. Make it a-hic-double."
The band stopped playing because they didn't know the next song. Instead, an electronic DJ started the classic slow-dancing ballad "One Real Kiss." The song was about a single kiss worth more than whatever could be offered for the taking, including one's life. The version playing was a duet between a male and a female singer, which from a musical standpoint, was only spectacular when one noted the eight minutes and fifty-three seconds the song played for.
Gavin stood up and I took his hint; he wanted to slow dance. Truthfully, I kind of liked the prospect even though I was nervous at having never done it before.
Considering this was my first time slow dancing, I worried about how close I was and where my feet stepped but once the song got going, I'd put all that stuff aside. Slow dancing was an overdramatized ordeal, I soon discovered. There really wasn't all that much to it; it was simply the rhythmic swaying of two close bodies while staring into each others' eyes.
The most amazing part about it all was the emotional intensity swirling around Gavin and I. As we swayed back and forth, Gavin's warm hands stayed on my hips; his long fingers felt like their tips could almost touch behind my back. Meanwhile, my arms draped down from his shoulders, only held up there because my fingers were intertwined.
At first, we were only as close as we could be while my arms were taught. Slowly however, our distance lessened; the less space between us, the sweeter the experience became. Pretty soon, it felt like we were genuinely hugging each other although we'd get closer before the song was half over.
And oh what that heavenly closeness was like. Never before had I moved with another individual as if we were one body bound together until every star in the sky had melted into a cascading ripple of ethereal magic.
Oblivious to our surroundings, Gavin and I enjoyed a tasty public display of affection. To our hormonal teenage minds, it had been a while since we'd had a kiss so passionate and deserving; in reality, it had probably only been a day or two since we'd made out for such a romantic reason—young love jumped at every chance to play tonsil hockey. This particular French kiss practically belonged on the dessert table at a five star restaurant.
Our lips parted a second or two after the song concluded; when I finally looked away from Gavin's breathtaking face, I saw Alexia clambering on stage to request a song from the band; the slit in her dress and the sheer height of the stage almost caused her to tilt her full glass of punch, but somehow she didn't spill any of it. It came as a surprise when the band leader announced the request he'd just gotten.
"This next request is a special one." He smiled charmingly; his charisma made him a gifted party host. "Miss Alexia Davis asks Miss Sruun Borealis and Mr. Gavin Weylin to perform their composition of 'What Can't You Do For Me?' so if they could please make their way to the stage, our next song will begin momentarily."
Both jaws in the relationship I was in flopped open.
I snapped out of it first. "Come on!" I took Gavin's hand and skipped up to the stage, making it through the crowds faster than I would've expected.
Polite applause welcomed us to the stage although every face on the dance floor wondered what to expect of us.
Despite my jittery nerves, I slid a microphone next to the piano and took my time adjusting it for me to sing into; I could take my time because Gavin couldn't start the song until I'd started playing.
Making eye contact with Gavin, I stroked the keys of the beautiful grand piano. I was glad for the prelude I'd written in before the singing started; it gave me a chance to forget the number of ears turned my way.
As I began singing, I was captivated by the experience of seeing hundreds of couples dance to a song I wrote.
"You've opened my eyes
So I could visualize
What it took
To take a look
Beyond the norm
Of my established form."
Next, Gavin and I both sang the chorus.
"You've provoked my thought,
Cooled me when I was hot,
And after all this,
I must take the risk
Of asking explicitly,
'What can't you do for me?'"
Gavin's first solo came a few measures later after a short echo by the piano.
"You helped me to smell
Every red rose petal
And to take the time
To recognize the sublime
None of it could be true
Without you."
After we both sang the chorus together again, it was time for my second solo.
"The grass is always greener
And the streets are always cleaner
Since you've entered my life.
There used to be struggling and strife
In your former absence.
I've not been the same since."
Finished with the chorus, Gavin started his second solo.
"When you're not near,
All I can hear
Is the buzzing of bees
And the torrent of angry seas
Rather than hummingbirds
And harmonic chords."
For the fourth time, Gavin and I sand the chorus, only this time it was before my third and last solo.
"The hope you bring
Entices me to sing
You saved me from my tyranny
And inspired an epiphany.
Before, upon people I was a curse
But now the world spins in reverse."
We sang the chorus for the last time and Gavin had his last solo.
"I was hopelessly lost
Garbage to be tossed
My name had been rejected
Along with my dream to be accepted
But I digress
Without you, I'm a mess."
This time, we went into another duet but it was the conclusion of the song.
"Show me every possibility
That could form between you and me
I ask that you grasp my hand
And by you, let me stand
Will you be mine,
Or will you decline?"
With a few last fancy movements by my fingers, we finished.
Tumultuous applause filled the air, as did jubilant encomiums. Those who had been seated were standing and those on the dance floor were in awe. Blushing, I walked onto the apron of the stage and stood next to Gavin.
To my surprise, Gavin wrapped his right arm behind my back and his strong fingers on my waist. The next thing I knew, my world was spinning and the crowd cheering wildly.
I had to admire his bravado—and talent—for lip locking.
The longer we kissed the louder the crowd's roaring got.
After parting, our excuse to leave was that it was getting late and we were starting to get tired but I was confident every soul in the room knew we wanted to hide our embarrassment. Thus, as soon as we got through the dozens of cheering people and their gauntlet of back-slapping congratulations, Gavin and I snuck out and up to my suite.
The combined magnificence of our epic slow dance and the exuberance of our first performance sent chilly goosebumps down my spine. Gavin, though with reddened cheeks, was beaming triumphantly. It seemed I was experiencing the same euphoria.
I opened the door to our room, and with a sweep of my arm, I invited him in. Mimicking the blissful spiral we'd danced earlier in the night, we pranced to the pulse of our own song.
Humming the chorus every time we came up for air, Gavin and I danced and kissed until the back of my calves married the bedside. Tossing off his jacket, Gavin began kissing me. Smiling, I remembered how idiotic I found the dating rituals of other males, yet at the same time I loved the way Gavin lowered me to the bed as my knees bent and our kisses overflowed with romance.
"Oh," Pausing mid-kiss, Gavin's face scrunched up in frustration. "I agreed to return the tuxedo as soon as I finished using it tonight." He looked quite sad. "I'll be back in a few minutes." Throwing his jacket over his shoulder, Gavin trumped from the room.
"No, don't go." I whimpered.
The door was about to click shut behind him when all of a sudden it flung back open and Gavin ran back in, much to my delight. Seizing me with his free arm, he laid a wet one on me.
"I love you and I always will, my little teddy bear."
Beaming, I kissed him again. "I love you too."
He stood there, transfixed by something he saw in my eyes. I too marveled at how radiant he looked; it was like he'd seen the face of God. Thrilled he was mine, I accepted the fact he had to go.
"Don't keep me waiting," I teased, spanking his butt. "Go, take the tux back."
He kissed me one last time and left. Sighing to myself, I didn't from where his seductions had left me for several minutes. After the night we'd shared, he was definitely getting something special…
Alright, so when you review, I want you to specifically say somewhere in your review "I do not hold Jonathan 'Nathan Ridge' responsible for the content portrayed in the upcoming chapter and in no way will I do him bodily harm or even think evil thoughts about him lest I wish to have many ill-fated things happen to me including but not limited to fifty lashes with a wet noodle."
Oh, and Shana, although you've read this chapter already, it couldn't hurt to look at it again because I've changed some stuff.