Several hours later I stood before my wardrobe and eyed my clothes disparagingly.
My dancing shoes?
Dancing was a very broad requirement, I mean if it was going to be line dancing it would require a very different outfit from if we were going, say, ballroom dancing.
I shook my head at my melodramatic streak, what were the odds that we were going either line dancing or ballroom dancing? Very low.
I stopped fussing and decided on a knee length, floaty, layered red skirt and a tight black top with a very wide neck. The top was good because it could be quite respectable, but, if the situation demanded, it could also be sexy as one side could slip off the shoulder leaving some skin exposed. I finished the outfit off with a pair of black, strappy high heels. OK so they weren't exactly dancing shoes and I knew my feet would be killing me by the end of the evening, but, damn, they looked good!
Getting dressed in my room I heard Matt thumping about in the lounge room and knew that he too was getting ready to go out. I was proved correct when, a moment later, he shouted out, "I'm off you guys. See you tomorrow."
"Bye," I called back and heard Jack do the same.
We were alone.
Feeling butterflies begin their, by now, very familiar dance in my stomach I lashed a deep red lipstick onto my lips and added heavy mascara to my eyelashes before giving my hair, which I had curled slightly and mussed up into a Marilyn Monroe look, one final fluff before deciding I was ready. Grabbing a small, red, beaded bag I exited my room at the exact same moment that Jack came out of his room.
For a moment we simply stared at each other. He wore black trousers and another of his blue button down shirts with the sleeves rolled up. His hair looked as messy as usual and his eyes, if it was possible, even bluer than before. He was, in short, looking good enough to eat and I gulped, feeling like a grade 7 girl meeting the hottest guy in the school for the first time.
To stop myself simply gawking at him I posed with my hip cocked. "Well?" I asked, pouting slightly. "What do you think?"
I was gratified to see that he also gulped. Stepping forward he took one of my hands and span me around, making the hem of my skirt flare up. "Natalia Jane Davenport," he said copying my habit of calling him by his full name, "you look too hot to be legal."
Now that's the kind of thing a girl wants to hear on a Saturday night!
I laughed and danced away from him. "Good! So let's go!"