“Abandoned you? No, you know I’d never miss a high school dance for the world,” Pieck jokes, patting his hand reassuringly. She’s usually rarely ever present at a dance but had changed her mind last week after a few of their friends’ siblings – elementary schoolers named Gabi, Falco, Udo, and Zofia – had begged her to go and take pictures for them because they were so curious about what high school was like. “And how could I miss seeing you in your element?”

Although he had been thinking about that only a few minutes before, it’s embarrassing to hear those words come from his friend’s mouth. Jean finds himself casting his eyes bashfully downwards and rubbing the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t say that it’s totally my thing,” he mumbles, voice barely audible over the loud pop music in the background. “Dances are fun, I guess, but I don’t care that much about them.”

Pieck raises an eyebrow. “Is that why you spent an hour on your hair today?” She bursts into laughter when Jean begins to splutter. She puts a hand on his shoulder and grins. “I’m just joking. I think you look great, by the way.”

It’s relieving to hear her say that. He’s used to her teasing him about his looks – usually that he’s spent far too much effort in looking good for school – so it’s nice to know that he hasn’t overdone it tonight. “Thanks,” he says. “You look good too.”

“Mmm,” Pieck replies, not really listening. She’s looking out on the dancefloor where most of their classmates are dancing awkwardly to an EDM song that everyone pretends to like but secretly hates. The dark-haired girl tugs at Jean’s sleeve, tilting her head towards the crowd with a curious smile. “I’m wondering why you aren’t on the dancefloor though. Isn’t that where all the fun is?”

Jean does his best not to grimace. It’s not that he’s terrible at dancing or even that he dislikes it. He just despises being shoved into a small space and forced to dance. With these many bodies stuffed into one room, it gets too damn hot. If he’s dancing on the dance floor, he’s bound to get sweaty and mess his hair. No, he’d rather keep away and stand on the side looking pretty.

“Oh, come on,” Pieck laughs. She holds up a hand to cover her smile. “Are you telling me you’re not dancing…at a dance? Then why are you here at all?”

“Hey, that’s not it!” Jean protests. Ah, this girl…she’s the only one who could ever make him feel like a fool about a dance.

“You’re supposed to be the coolest one here, aren’t you?” Pieck says. She takes him by the hand, but he refuses to be dragged onto the dancefloor and his fingers slip through hers. This doesn’t stop her from leaving without him, moving her body as if she’s a blade of grass in the wind. If Jean were dancing like Pieck, he’d be embarrassed. Her strange movements are already attracting the attention of others, but Pieck doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, Jean’s not even sure if she notices. She’s too busy whipping a fake lasso around her head and tossing it Jean’s way, making a show of reeling him in. “Come on, Jean!” she calls over the music. “Show me what you’ve got!”

It should be embarrassing, but she looks as if she’s having the night of her life spinning about on the glossy dancefloor. Her dance moves don’t help either. People look awkward dancing normally, throwing their arms about as if they have somewhat of an idea of what they’re doing, but it’s as if Pieck’s trying to look as ridiculous as possible as she reenacts horribly outdated dance moves from decades ago. She alternates between dance moves – going between standing in place and pumping her arms as she slowly twists around as if she’s a human sprinkler before walking energetically in place, arms outstretched as if mowing an imaginary lawn. Anyone else would look ridiculous, but Pieck somehow makes it work.

He sighs when he sees Pieck cup her hands over her mouth and calls out his name again, waving him over. If you can’t beat them, join them, right? He finds himself making his way over to her, moving his body from side to side like a snake with every hop he takes. Does he feel like a fool? Absolutely, but it’s worth it seeing Pieck bursting into giggles.

Jean is used to people staring at him, but it’s usually because of what he’s wearing and not because he’s dancing like a robot. It’s the sort of situation he tries to avoid, but he finds that he doesn’t mind it this particular night. It might be because dancing is actually more fun than he had thought it was, or maybe because he secretly enjoys attention even if it’s for something unflattering, but he thinks it’s because of how happy Pieck looks on the dancefloor with him, cheeks flushed and mouth opened in laughter as they both dance the funky chicken. He tries to suppress a smile when he sees his other classmates around them trying their hand at other retro dance moves – the moonwalk, the MC Hammer, the worm.

“What do you think, Pieck?” Jean asks as he does the shimmy. “My dance moves aren’t too shabby.”

“Not bad, Kirstein,” Pieck laughs, slightly out of breath from all the dancing. “Not bad.”

He opens his mouth to compliment her, but the music suddenly changes pace. The upbeat electronic music ceases, replaced with a slow ballad. The lights soften, shifting from bright neon to soft pinks and purples. While Jean is frozen in place, taken by surprise by the sudden change in atmosphere, others are pairing up. Those who aren’t dancing are quickly moving away from the floor, preferring to stand at the sidelines rather than paired up awkwardly with a classmate and sway side to side as they wait for the song to end. Unfortunately, Jean does not move quickly enough and is stuck staring at the only person left – Pieck.

He expects her to be mortified at having to slow dance with him – Slow dancing at a high school dance? That’s even worse than regular dancing at a high school dance! – but she looks strangely unbothered at their current circumstance. He’s even more surprised when she stretches out a hand to him, an inviting smile on her face. She cocks her head, a mischievous expression similar to the one she had when she had coaxed him to dance with her earlier.

“Hey, Kirstein,” she says with that characteristic grin of hers. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

If she were any other girl, he would say no. He’s far too invested in himself to pursue anyone seriously – nothing is cooler than a guy who’s unattached – and he’s not so cruel as to give girls a false hope, but it’s different if Pieck is the one asking him for a dance. If it’s Pieck – Pieck, who likes to tease Jean playfully about his vanity, who is the only one that can convince him to make a fool of himself at such a big school event, who looks elegant as ever in her glossy gown even as she’s doing a bad rendition of Madonna’s vogue – then he really has no choice but to accept.

“The honor’s all mine,” he replies, and he marvels at how well his hands fit the curves of her waist. “If you think my other moves were cool, wait ‘til you see me slow dance.”