Just not for me, as Marshall Crenshaw says…
“Was the Cotillion dance this past weekend?” [Judging from her earlier remark about Lynne, she obviously knew I went.]
“Yep.” Give no more info than what is needed.
“Tell me about it.”
Ah, shit. I give her a five minute synopsis about the boredom, the punch, the society matron, the schemes to force us to to mingle, and most importantly, the post-Cotillion ice cream at Penn Supreme.
“Who was pretty?”
I was ready for this one. She couldn’t hate the nice girls–The C twins and J.
She contemplates my answer. “Yea, they’re pretty. Nice, too. Friendly. Prettier than me?”
“Fuck, no! You know I’d say that.”
Two kisses. “Just wanted to hear.” Long pause. “Would you dance with ME?”
“Of course. But watch your feet. I suck at dancing. You know where we can get music?”
A sigh. “No, guess not”
I also had an answer for this. “If Doug took us to your house before your parents got home, we could dance. But he has to take me home.”
Her eyes light up, but she’s unsure. “I dunno. I’ll have to see what he thinks. Are you sure you don’t just just want to get me alone and kiss me?”
“C’mon, Allie, it’s not like we’re stripping in your living room….. however….let me give you an idea of what a little kissing might be like.”
She giggles. I had planted a seed………….but for now, let’s fade to black.