by Nicole Bea
I secretly hope I’ve just barely missed him standing there, watching me go, waiting for me to get on the elevator and head up to my room.
When I get up to my floor, the area is quiet, my neighbors yet to be seen. I let myself into the dark space, flicking on the overhead light and temporarily blinding myself in the process with the brightness. I make a mental note to leave my desk lamp from home on when I leave at night so that I don’t come back to my room entirely in the dark.
Walking across the room, I flick the tiny lamp on, little stars cascading from the sides and displaying on the walls before I shut off the big overhead light. It’s peaceful here, the wind breezing in from the open window, and my brand-new bedding is calling to me. I tell myself I’ll just crawl in for a minute before I take a nighttime shower and check my socials, but within seconds, I’m asleep. I have a dream about being home again in Patrick’s Cove, and the sounds and sights of the ocean are so realistic that when I wake up in a daze in the late morning the next day, I nearly bash my head on the window.
Chapter 4
Searching through my blankets for my phone, I see that it’s nearly eleven, and a theoretical lightbulb goes off over my head. That’s the time when the extra-curricular booths are all starting their informational sessions over by the student center. And I’m late —for the one thing that I told myself I would be a part of. It’s not like I can even leave right this second and be there for the start, I need to shower and get dressed in something I didn’t wear yesterday. For a moment I allow myself to lie there in the small bed, and I tap on my empty messages application, hoping that maybe a new message from Lux will appear. But the one from last night just sits there, now labeled with his name.
Lux: Hi.
I half consider sending him a message to say good morning, but that would be weird because he isn’t Brandon. Instead, I turn the screen off, hop up from the bed, and maneuver my way around the bags in the center of my room to get cleaned up.
Thirty-some odd minutes later, I head out of the Ross Building toward the student center where I met Lux last night at the Oakwood. As soon as I exit through the large glass doors, I spot tables set up all along the pathways, multicolored banners and posters lining the edges and being held by students in an attempt to attract newcomers to join their clubs. Looking at the crowd I’m immediately nervous, and I wrap the Bedford University lanyard around my wrist a couple of times so that the key cards sit in my hand and I have something to toy with as I look around.
The first few tables are about games and gaming, which isn’t something that interests me. I don’t know enough about computers and my hand-eye coordination isn’t up to par with what I presume these other people probably have, so I slip past the tables and move along farther into the wave of students. Everyone seems to be there with someone else, maybe a friend or a roommate, but the only person I’ve really met so far has been Lux since I decided to stay away from Physical Day and the karaoke night.
As I browse, I take a few pamphlets from people handing them out assertively—equestrian club, chess, cheerleading—but nothing really captures my interest and says my name quite like a smaller table at the far end of the campus quad. There’s a couple of girls sitting there quietly, upbeat music playing from one of their phones on top of a black tablecloth and the sign on the surface reads BEDFORD UNI SWING DANCE CLUB. When one of the girls finally looks up from her phone, I realize it’s Jenn from the Oakwood Lounge.
“Hey! Chelsea, right?”
I nod and rush to the side of the table, happy to be away from the general crowd and in the company of someone I sort of know. Her curly black hair is tucked into a half ponytail, her lips pink today, a match to her cheeks’ rosy glow.
“Yeah, that’s me. Jenn?”
“Yup! You’re the double major Lux was with at the Oakwood last night. I remember you. He always has an eye for the cute ones.”
I’m concerned that I am getting the wrong impression about what that means, so I try my hardest to segue into a different topic as the girl next to her with a long ponytail stops to talk to someone. “So, you’re part of the swing dancing club? I don’t even know if I’ve ever heard of swing dancing before.”
“You’d probably know it if you saw it. It’s super fun. We’re trying to start up a formal club this year and get people more involved in Lindy Hop. That’s one of the earliest forms of swing dance, founded between 1920 and 19-…”
Just as Jenn is clearly about to start telling me the history of swing dance, I spot a shadow over my shoulder that soon reaches out and brushes my arm gently. “Hey, again.”
Of course, it’s Lux.
“Are you following me around campus?” I ask, not able to help the beaming smile that crosses my face at his presence.
“I told you this place was small. I see you’ve found my passion project.”
“Yours?”
Lux nods, that now-familiar playful smile cracking across from cheek to cheek. “Yeah, I wasn’t sure we were going to get permission to participate this year, but I managed to convince the student committee that we’re legit and that people would be interested in learning what they called an ‘outdated old pastime.’ I see Jenn’s already sunk her claws into you about it. Any thoughts?”
“Um, honestly? I’ve been standing here for about twenty seconds and I’m not sure I even know how to walk properly let alone some kind of dancing.” There’s a little voice in the back of my head that tells me I should try. That this could be the thing that I do to build my confidence and become the person I want to be. Plus, if Lux and Jenn are involved, it’s not like I’ll be totally alone. I’ve already met them, and Lux has my number, so maybe it wouldn’t be that strange to learn how to dance as long as some people I know are there.
“It’s easy once you learn the footwork. Well, kind of easy. Not so easy if you’re Jenn,” Lux jokes and she reaches over the table and punches him in the arm.
“I can’t believe I let a jerk like you convince me to be the vice-president of this non-existent club.” The words on their own are harsh, but Jenn’s face is smirking, and she appears to be holding back a laugh as she turns to me. “Chelsea, you should join. We need like fifteen people to even become a club, so you can say it’s like your social activity for the year or something. Everyone needs one.”
I hesitate for just a split second, then nod. What’s the harm, really? I’d rather be in a club with Jenn and Lux than look at these pamphlets that I’ve shoved in the back pocket of my jeans. “How many spots do you have left?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, Chelsea.” Lux croons out my name and I melt just a little. He probably could tell me to play Clothesline all by myself here in the quad and I’d do it. “Just sign your name on the sheet and put down your email and we’ll let you know when the first meeting is. Half the people who sign up don’t show anyway, so there’s not any pressure. At least if you sign up you can feel like you have something else on your plate other than studying.”
He’s making a reference to my comment from last night and I smile.
“Fair enough.” Jenn hands me a pen and I lean over the table and scribble my name and my school email down on the clipboard. My hands are always shaky when I’m writing things down in front of other people, and the more I attempt to make the letters legible, the worse they seem to get.
“There. Painless, right?” Jenn takes the pen back, capping it, and placing it back down on the table.
“Painless,” I confirm, looking between her and Lux before someone squeezes up to the table with a handful of papers in their hand. Jenn turns her attention to the overzealous girl with a chestnut ponytail who doesn’t look like she’s even old enough to be going to university. Maybe I don’t look old enough to be here either. Is that how everyone knows I’m a first-year student?
“What else did you sign up for?” Lux asks, stepping off the path onto the grass where we have more room to talk, away from the throngs of students trying to get from one table to
the next and secure spots in their preferred social activities.
I shake my head and clear my throat. “Nothing else, at least not so far. I’m starting to think that with a double major I’ll probably be pretty busy. At least, that’s the impression everyone’s been giving me.”
“Probably a good choice. I promise I won’t get mad if you don’t show up for my dance class because you’re too busy conjugating verbs.”
“Your dance class?”
“Well, yes. Who did you think was teaching it?”
“I-I, I don’t know, actually,” I stammer. “Wait, this isn’t like, dancing with someone else, is it? Like a stranger?”
Lux laughs out loud, his dark hair shining in the sunlight. “Jenn didn’t get to give you the whole spiel, did she? Swing is a partner dance that was often considered too vulgar and sexy to older generations in the 1930s. Sometimes it wasn’t even considered proper dancing.”
Oh, shit. What did I just sign up for? Someone inside my personal bubble in a group of strangers while learning an intimate type of dance? That’s not what I was thinking when I said I wanted to reinvent myself…
I must have the worst expression on my face because Lux stifles his laugh long enough to give me the same concerned look he offered when I talked to Mom last night during dinner. “Chelsea, you don’t have to do this. But I swear it’s not as bad as it sounds. We’ll probably just learn the basic steps for all of the first semester. Hell, I’ll show them to you right now if you want so you can have time to practice before tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night?” My voice goes up half an octave.
“Well, we were hoping to get a group together pretty early so we could count numbers and get the official word from the head of the clubs that we’re allowed to be a campus group.”
I suck in a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds, counting backward from five. I can do this. This is fine.
“Okay. No worries. It’s not like I have plans tomorrow evening or anything.”
" Now you do.”
I give Lux the calmest smile I can manage, but inside, I’m totally freaking out. I have until tomorrow evening to try and figure out if I even know what swing dancing actually is, let alone how not to look like a total idiot while trying to learn it. Maybe if I watch some YouTube videos and practice in my room, I’ll be able to get the basic steps down before I go to the first class and Lux won’t wonder why he asked me to sign up in the first place.
“Anyway, Alice has to get to her other table with the debate team, so I’ve got to keep this one running with Jenn. I’ll text you the details for tomorrow night, if that’s okay?”
I push my hair behind my shoulders, a blonde wave falling away from the rest. “Sure. Sounds good. I’m going to go look at the rest of the tables and see if there’s anything else that seems interesting, just in case.”
“Perfect. Have fun, okay? Try not to worry too much about what everyone else is doing.”
It’s like he’s seen right through me, and the realization sends a little shiver up my spine. I need to walk away, and I need to walk away now before my anxiety takes over even more. I give Lux a little wave and disappear into the crowd, eaten up by the wave of students and the sound of chatter. I don’t stop at any other tables though. I make my way back across campus toward the quiet of Harris Hall, and I immediately vow to learn as much about Lindy Hop as I can before tomorrow night.
I spend the rest of the day unpacking my room and setting up my laptop, my stomach too nervous for lunch or supper. Instead, I fill up on water from the bathroom sink, giving myself a sloshy sensation in my stomach every time I move. By the time the afternoon fades into night, I’ve flicked on my star lamp again and I’m studying the history of swing dancing by its dull glow. I can’t possibly go anywhere tomorrow night where others might know the basic steps, the background of the dance, or have a partner and I might not. I can fix the first two by watching a few more hours of YouTube and hunting through Wikipedia articles. It’s that last one that’s tricky. I don’t know anyone else on campus, let alone someone who would have signed up for the dance club.
The realization makes me nervous. I don’t love the idea of some strange guy in my personal space. I didn’t spend all summer locked up in my bedroom trying to avoid Brandon and Amy for nothing. Even when Huxley, arguably the most attractive boy in Patrick’s Cove, set his sights on me for half of July, I kept my distance.
Flicking back to one of my opened tabs, there’s a paused video of a couple teaching some basic swing moves. I’ve watched it about fifty times, trying to absorb their skill through the computer screen, carefully calculating each movement of their feet and bodies to try and figure out if I can even do this. It feels futile; I’m uncoordinated as it is. Maybe I can make an excuse about tomorrow night and the dance club. Say I’ve changed my mind and decided to join the tennis club. Like Lux said, half the people drop out after the first meeting anyway.
My chair squeaks as I lean back, stretching my arms over my head and elongating my spine. As soon as I sit up from my crunched position, my stomach lets out a gurgle of hunger, and a moment after that, my phone beeps from on top of the notepad I never bothered opening. I pluck the device from its spot and open the message notification.
Lux: We’re having a dance club meeting at seven in the student center tomorrow. You free? Managed to get enough people to sign up.
This is my chance to duck out and make up some reason—any reason—why I won’t be going. Lux gets to the topic before I have an opportunity to start crafting an apologetic text. It’s a relief in some ways because it gives me a way out of the dance club, but then I feel a sort of bad because he has been so nice to me.
Lux: Don’t feel pressured to come if you signed up for something else or you’re not really into it. I know I was a little pushy and maybe you felt like you had to register but I won’t be offended if you don’t show up.
Chelsea: It’s okay! I’m excited. I’ll definitely be there. Though… I’m honestly pretty nervous about the whole thing.
Lux: What’s making you anxious?
Well, that’s a loaded question. I could list off ten things making me anxious at this particular moment, but they all come down to dancing, Lux, school, and, well, that’s probably it. I don’t want to seem like my old, boring, nervous self to him though. I came here to get away from all of that. To be the best version of Chelsea that I can be.
But maybe that requires honesty.
Chelsea: I’ve never danced before. At least not beyond slow dancing at school dances. Even then, we had to stay a foot apart from one another so the event monitors wouldn’t get mad at us.
Pausing for a moment, I consider and then reconsider my next confession. It’s always easier to say things through texting, but do I really want Lux to know all about what happened between Brandon and me? I suppose that I might as well tell him now before I get to the dance class and maybe start feeling or acting distant.
Chelsea: I don’t love the idea of some strange guy being in my space. I’ve had exactly one boyfriend and he cheated on me at a party a few months ago with my best friend.
I stare at my messages for a moment, hoping that I don’t come across as too weird for bringing up high school when Lux is probably so over the drama of his school years before university. It’s too late to take the texts back, so I guess now it’s out in the atmosphere for him to absorb. However, I still tap the backspace button at least twenty times in the empty message space as if that’s going to make the whole thing go away.
Lux: Would it help if I taught you a few things before class?
Chelsea: Maybe. Like what? I’ve been watching videos on YouTube all afternoon and trying out the steps in my room, but I can’t say I’ve gotten the hang of anything yet other than almost not getting my feet tangled up. :)
Lux: I can give you a private lesson? What are you doing now? My place is only a two-minute walk from campus if you want to come over.
My heart im
mediately starts to beat in an erratic rhythm; Lux is inviting me over to teach me some dance steps? Is this another situation like when we had dinner where parts of it feel like a date and other parts of it I spend on the phone trying not to cry with Mom? I’m not sure why I feel the need to categorize it, because I doubt Lux is having the same struggle. He seems genuinely caring. He probably really does want to help me not feel like an idiot tomorrow at the first meeting.
But—he’s a stranger. Should I really be going to some stranger’s place at night without telling anyone?
Lux: It’s just a suggestion, Chelsea. You don’t have to. But if you do, I’m at 8 Luckheart Street on the 8th floor, apartment 8. I swear I’m not making that up. I’ll be here all night if you decide you want to learn a little Lindy.
Screw it. I’m cool and confident and collected and I can go to this guy’s apartment without it being weird. I mean, we keep running into one another on campus and we’ll probably continue to. He’s a French major like me so we might have the same professors, and, additionally, he’s pretty much the only person I know here except Jenn.
Chelsea: Are you sure I wouldn’t be in the way?
Lux: Of what? I just finished putting away the dishes and now I’m lying on the couch listening to The Goo Goo Dolls’ old albums. It’s not exactly something that can’t be interrupted.
Lux: I swear there’s no pressure. Just buzz down by the main doors if you come, okay?
There’s something about the image of him on the sofa listening to one of my favorite bands that makes me melt. I don’t give myself time to change my mind; I type back as fast as I can to confirm that we have impromptu plans.
Chelsea: I’ll be there in ten.
Lux: See you soon.
I set the phone down on my desk next to the open laptop and the star lamp before I realize I’m smiling so hard my face hurts. Not bothering to try and wipe the grin off, I push my chair away from the desk and cross the room to stand in front of the mirrored closet door. I’m still in my jeans and t-shirt from this morning, and I can’t imagine that denim is all that easy to dance in. Opening the closet, I pull out some black leggings, a light green cardigan, and a cream lace tank top. After I’ve changed, I let my hair down from the half ponytail I’d shoved it in earlier, snapping the elastic around my wrist just in case I need it later. I’m comfortable and can move in the outfit, which I imagine is important.
