dances go. Just follow my lead.”
She accidentally tripped, stepped on Matt's foot and quickly mumbled an apology. Her face was burning hot, and she was thankful for the darkness. She looked around, took her cue from the other dancers and tentatively, carefully rested her head on his shoulder. Her heart was racing. Her anxious eyes darted around the crowd in the dimly lit hall, to catch a glimpse of who might be watching her slow dance with Mr. Wonderful; and to her horror she saw Amelia and Annie watching her with wide fiendish grins on their faces. Amelia was mockingly throwing her kisses, while Annie was holding one hand up to her head and pretending to faint in a swoon. Jillian felt abashed; her cheeks continued to burn as she flashed a smile at her friends but then quickly turned her head the other way so that they might not see the euphoria in her soul shining through her eyes as she swayed to the music and felt the warmth of Matt's breath on her hair and the cool, crisp texture of his shirt under her fingertips. Still, though, her heart was beating rapidly, and a part of her wanted to run somewhere far away. Was this real, or was she dreaming?
She looked up, startled, and saw Matt smiling, and then she too was smiling as she closed her eyes. The effect was overwhelming for a shy sheltered girl of eighteen, who until then had never been held by any man near her own age. The music gripped her and she was swallowed up by the intensity of the moment. When had music affected her so? She couldn't remember. A pulse of joy was beating in her. The melancholy sound of The Cranberries rang in her ears:
“You've got me wrapped around your finger, do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger....”
Then opening her eyes and looking vaguely around the room, she saw couples walking out into the darkness, heading for the quadrangle. She wished that the moment would go on forever; but the song was almost over, and she would probably never see this man again.
She looked up and her startled eyes met his gaze.
“I know I just met you, but I feel I know you,” he said quietly, smiling, “like— we've met in another life.”
She laughed nervously and shrugged. “That's funny. Like Marc Antony and Cleopatra?”
“Yeah,” he was smiling. “Let's go sit for a while. There's a reading-room near here.”
She looked up. His eyes were so warm and appealing. “Sure.”
She was flattered and surprised when Matt accidently brushed his arm against hers as they walked side by side and he escorted her down a corridor to a room with leather-upholstered sofas and an enormous fireplace, burning bright. She caught sight of a hopeful young girl's face, glowing and rosy in a large gilded mirror across the way, and was startled to realize, it was her own! They were talking, and her face was flushed and had taken on the warmth and the colour of the flames; tiny beads of perspiration like dewdrops glistened on her forehead. She was smiling and murmuring sweet happy words that fell from her lips like exhaled breath, it was so easy and natural. Matt was smiling but looking anxiously about and, after a moment's hesitation, cleared his throat; his face was quickly approaching hers! Was he about to kiss her? She edged herself away. He grinned, reached over with one hand and lightly touched her knee; she could feel the warmth of his hand through her silk stockings. She was frozen with fear. Still childlike in many ways, she could hardly breathe; something seemed stuck in her throat. She gently removed his hand and then lifted hers, tightly clutched into a fist as if she were about to punch him, but instead she raised it up to her chest and exclaimed, “I have to go. I need some air. It's become awfully hot by the fire.”
“It is getting hot in here, isn't it?” he replied with a grin.
She looked into his experienced eyes and at once realized she was caught up in some flirtatious game; but the impression was a fleeting one.
She accidentally tripped, stepped on Matt's foot and quickly mumbled an apology. Her face was burning hot, and she was thankful for the darkness. She looked around, took her cue from the other dancers and tentatively, carefully rested her head on his shoulder. Her heart was racing. Her anxious eyes darted around the crowd in the dimly lit hall, to catch a glimpse of who might be watching her slow dance with Mr. Wonderful; and to her horror she saw Amelia and Annie watching her with wide fiendish grins on their faces. Amelia was mockingly throwing her kisses, while Annie was holding one hand up to her head and pretending to faint in a swoon. Jillian felt abashed; her cheeks continued to burn as she flashed a smile at her friends but then quickly turned her head the other way so that they might not see the euphoria in her soul shining through her eyes as she swayed to the music and felt the warmth of Matt's breath on her hair and the cool, crisp texture of his shirt under her fingertips. Still, though, her heart was beating rapidly, and a part of her wanted to run somewhere far away. Was this real, or was she dreaming?
She looked up, startled, and saw Matt smiling, and then she too was smiling as she closed her eyes. The effect was overwhelming for a shy sheltered girl of eighteen, who until then had never been held by any man near her own age. The music gripped her and she was swallowed up by the intensity of the moment. When had music affected her so? She couldn't remember. A pulse of joy was beating in her. The melancholy sound of The Cranberries rang in her ears:
“You've got me wrapped around your finger, do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger....”
Then opening her eyes and looking vaguely around the room, she saw couples walking out into the darkness, heading for the quadrangle. She wished that the moment would go on forever; but the song was almost over, and she would probably never see this man again.
She looked up and her startled eyes met his gaze.
“I know I just met you, but I feel I know you,” he said quietly, smiling, “like— we've met in another life.”
She laughed nervously and shrugged. “That's funny. Like Marc Antony and Cleopatra?”
“Yeah,” he was smiling. “Let's go sit for a while. There's a reading-room near here.”
She looked up. His eyes were so warm and appealing. “Sure.”
She was flattered and surprised when Matt accidently brushed his arm against hers as they walked side by side and he escorted her down a corridor to a room with leather-upholstered sofas and an enormous fireplace, burning bright. She caught sight of a hopeful young girl's face, glowing and rosy in a large gilded mirror across the way, and was startled to realize, it was her own! They were talking, and her face was flushed and had taken on the warmth and the colour of the flames; tiny beads of perspiration like dewdrops glistened on her forehead. She was smiling and murmuring sweet happy words that fell from her lips like exhaled breath, it was so easy and natural. Matt was smiling but looking anxiously about and, after a moment's hesitation, cleared his throat; his face was quickly approaching hers! Was he about to kiss her? She edged herself away. He grinned, reached over with one hand and lightly touched her knee; she could feel the warmth of his hand through her silk stockings. She was frozen with fear. Still childlike in many ways, she could hardly breathe; something seemed stuck in her throat. She gently removed his hand and then lifted hers, tightly clutched into a fist as if she were about to punch him, but instead she raised it up to her chest and exclaimed, “I have to go. I need some air. It's become awfully hot by the fire.”
“It is getting hot in here, isn't it?” he replied with a grin.
She looked into his experienced eyes and at once realized she was caught up in some flirtatious game; but the impression was a fleeting one.
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