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“What other hill is there?” I reply, my feet tapping against the hardwood floor as I sing along with Kate Bush. “It doesn’t hurt me…yeah, yeah, yeah, yeaaaahhhh!”
Pen laughs louder as I throw my arms wide, and proceed to sing at the top of my lungs, enjoying the thrum of music as it rises up through my feet, sparking this energy within me.
“From now on I think everyone should call me Cupid,” I announce suddenly.
“You’re incorrigible,” Pen shouts over the music, shaking her head as she watches me.
“Well, it’s either that or Fred, because I think I’ve got my Astaire back.”
Pen chuckles, leaning her chin on her hand as her eyes follow me around the dance floor, glazing over with memories as I perform for her.
The last time I danced to this song was with Pen at Stardom Academy. Back then we were still enemies, or at least that’s how it felt until the teacher called us up to dance. But that day she’d shown me the truth of heart. In front of everyone she’d bled her pain and heartache into her steps, showing me how she truly felt towards me, how devastated she was for all the pain and heartache between us.
Now I want to show her howhappyshe makes me. How much joy she’s given me over the years. How, without her, nothing in this world would feel right.
Pen is my once in a lifetime love. She’smyforce of gravity. Just like Lena is to Gray.
Finding that kind of love is special. Christ, not everyone gets to find the kind of love I share for my four best mates either. I’m a lucky bastard, there’s no denying it. And maybe it’s these feelings, this realisation, that gives me this sudden, overwhelming need to dance.
Without thinking, I move my feet in a series of rhythm turns across the floor, ending up at the far side where I dance on the spot to the beat of the song. I feel this energy burning inside of me as my feet move with lightning speed. I might not be wearing my tap shoes, but for me tap dancing isn’t really about the sound my toe and heel caps make when they hit the floor. It’s about what it feels like to express myself with a dance that matches my energy, that is a representation of who I am as a person.
My recent illness from the flu might’ve knocked me out for a while, but I’m back with a vengeance now. Flying across the dance floor, I tap out a series of steps and turns that have me grinning from ear to ear. Spinning and twirling, my arms mirroring the movements of my feet, I feel like Fred Astaire, an entertainer, a legend, someone who gave endless joy to those who watched him dance. But I’m nothing without my very own Ginger Rogers, so I dance towards Pen, stupidly happy as she gets to her feet and slides out of the booth.
“You sure?” I ask her, my chest heaving as the song we both know so well comes to an end.
“What’s one dance?” she replies, picking up my phone and flipping through the playlist.
“Seriously, we can go home. I’m good now. Got all that excess energy out. I’ll sleep like a log.”
Pen shakes her head, then presses play. Another familiar song plays out over the speakers, and I throw back my head and laugh.
“Thought you might appreciate that,” Pen says playfully.
“Shut Up and Dance With Me?” I question, the biggest, goofiest grin spreading across my face as she pushes past me and skips to the centre of the dance floor, turning to face me just as the lead singer belts out that infamous line.
“Forever,” she replies.
“And always.”
Then we dance. Not tap. Not contemporary. Not lyrical. Not hip-hop.
We simply move our bodies, jumping to the beat like a couple of carefree kids. We laugh and smile. We groove it out, pulling stupid faces as we pretend to play air guitar. We grab each other’s hands and twirl on the dance floor, the room spinning around us, all whilst we sing at the top of our lungs.
It’s fucking incredible.
This right here, is us. Me and Pen. This is theuswhen we’re alone together.
This energy. This vibrancy. This exuberance.
Sure we can have serious conversations, we make love, and we fuck. But the heart ofourlove, mine and Pen’s, is purejoy. It’s the happy beat to our steps. It’s our eyes sparkling with tears of laughter. It’s the fast pulse of two breathless hearts in love. It’s the adrenaline rush of high energy. It’s our sense of fun. It’s that glow, the one that comes from the inside out, just like she’s glowing now as she jumps up and down, her loose hair whipping around her face, her cheeks flush with happiness, her pink lips parting with a smile as she sings, her eyes dazzling with laughter.
She’s breathtaking.
I still, my chest heaving as I watch her throw away all the physical confines we tend to wrap ourselves up in. It’s human nature to keep our bodies in check, to move with structure and purpose in a way that is socially acceptable. Even as dancers we follow a series of steps, steps that can be named, that have their place in a performance.
But right now, there’s no rhyme or rhythm to her movements, and if someone who wasn’t familiar with Pen’s ability to dance were to walk into the club right now, they’d assume she had no formal dance training, that she was just a woman dancing like no one was watching, without inhibition or restraint. She dances messily, happily, with a goofy expression, and a smile on her face.
And somehow, the freedom in her movements, the way she’s given herself up to the joy of the moment causes this sudden wave of love to flood through my veins. It sparkles and crackles, filling me with wonder, a sense of deep satisfaction, and utter, blissful contentment.
