But then Sam opens his mouth to sing, and there’s a tremble in his voice. His hand grips the microphone, as if he’s keeping himself steady, while the piano tries to follow him.
There’s something off. He’s not singing in time with the music. It’s like he’s a step or two behind. The crowd is noticing this, too. People are looking around, whispering at the tables, wondering what’s wrong. This only makes Sam more nervous. When his trembling turns into stuttering, and he starts skipping words, my chest tightens. I can’t bear to watch this happen. I wish there was a way to save him. I wish I could move the attention away before this gets worse. Don’t just stand here. Do something, Julie!
So I take off my heels, and step through the curtain. At one of the tables in the middle of the room, Spencer is sitting beside his brothers. I make my way over and grab his hand.
“Yo, what’s up?”
“Come with me.”
“Huh—”
I pull Spencer out of his chair, leading him onto the empty dance floor as everyone turns to look.
“Uh, what are we doing?!”
“Dancing! Just go with it!”
“Oh my god.”
My heart is pounding as I place a hand on Spencer’s shoulder as we get into position and begin what we hope is a waltz. We have no clue what we’re doing or how we look. But everyone is watching us. I don’t make eye contact with Sam as we begin our dance. I’m afraid it could make him more nervous. Instead, I lift Spencer’s arm and make him twirl me around him to the rhythm of the music.
Our dance is going more smoothly than I expected. At one point in the song, Spencer puts his arms behind my back and dips me, making the tables around us cheer. I don’t know if it’s the piano, Sam’s voice, the burst of adrenaline, or the attention of the room, but we suddenly get into this. The lifts, the turns, and our spins across the room come almost naturally as we continue our dance. Maybe we’re actually good at this. Or maybe it’s all in my head, and to everyone else watching, we look ridiculous. But it doesn’t matter. Because I look over at Sam and see him smiling for the first time. His face is glowing in the spotlight as he steps down the center of the stage—as far as his microphone cord allows him—and extends a hand to us as he hits the chorus with a newfound confidence.
I look back to him from across the dance floor as the drums come in, followed by the guitar, and we feel a spark move between us. A crowd of people has formed around the edge of the dance floor. Eventually, a few of them step in and start dancing, too, pulling in others with them. Sam and I look at each other again. Because we did this. His voice and my dance with Spencer changed the energy of the room.
When the music begins to fade, I feel the song about to end. I lift my hands one last time and go spinning across the dance floor, as lights swirl around me until the room suddenly vanishes, and I fall straight into Sam’s arms, throwing us off the edge of the dock as we go crashing into ice-cold water.
A million bubbles swarm around me as we emerge from the surface of the lake to the sound of fireworks going off in the distance. It’s the night before the Fourth of July. The summer after sophomore year. Sam and I made plans to sneak out to meet each other here. If my mom knew this, she would kill me.
I shiver in the water. “I can’t believe we’re doing this!”
Sam laughs and runs a hand over his head, brushing his hair back. His skin is glistening from the water. “You said you wanted to be more spontaneous!”
“I wasn’t expecting this!”
More fireworks go off in the distance, lighting the tips of the trees that surround us. Sam flips onto his back and starts swimming backward, showing the bare lines of his chest. I instinctively throw my hands over myself, covering up.
“What if someone sees us?”
“Jules—no one else is out here. It’s just you and me.”
“I’ve never done this before.”
“Skinny-dipping?”
“I can’t believe you dared me!”
“I never thought you’d actually do it.”
“Sam!”
“Relax—we’re not completely naked!”
Fireworks go off again as Sam paddles in circles around me, laughing.
“How did you even come up with this?” I ask.
“I saw it in a movie once,” he says. “It seemed really sweet and romantic and everything in my head.”
“It’s so cliché.”
“At least this will be something to remember. And a funny story to tell.”