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The one good thing about my hiding spot is that the sofas are divine . Seriously, why are we hiding them away in storage? Sitting in the fetal position in one of these is much more comfortable than on the floor. I’ve almost dozed off a few times before a particularly loud song or voice in the ballroom always wakes me up. That’s for the best. If I can’t be found after the party, Father will certainly come looking. My hopes are that when the party is over, he will be too busy and tired to come after me. I really just want to go to bed — panic-induced meltdowns wear a man out. But if I go to my room I will definitely be found. I’ve never been found in this storage room, though. I don’t come here often. Usually, when I sneak away from parties I’m with someone, and they get antsy about being so close to the ballroom. The storage room does share a wall with the ballroom, but you can only find the door to the storage room outside. Most people don’t even know that it’s there.
But someone must because suddenly the door swings open. I freeze, panicked. I’m not in plain sight—the room is dark and I’m tucked on a sofa in the corner that took a lot of maneuvering to reach—but I’m not undetectable either. Please don’t be my father please don’t be my father please don’t be my father—
The door closes, reducing the only light in the room to moonlight through the high windows.
“Monty?” Percy whisper-shouts.
My body floods with relief. I pull myself out of the fetal position which, judging by the stiffness in my limbs, I have been in for quite some time. “Over here,” I say.
Percy squints and slowly picks his way through the furniture to me. “What are you doing in here?” he asks.
“Oh, you know, napping,” I say. The truth is, I had been flirting with Steven Wilcox and my father saw me. At least, I think he did. After Steven and I parted ways, he continued to give me watchful glares, so I ran. Hopefully he forgets about the whole thing.
Percy knows I’m lying. It’s not even a good lie, and Percy can always tell anyway, but he just nods.
“How did you know where to find me?” I ask.
Percy shrugs. “I searched a few other places but then I remembered you mentioned this room one time.”
“It’s not a bad hiding spot,” I say. “The sofas are nicer than the ones in the parlor.”
“Can I sit?”
I nod. Percy sits next to me and I immediately lay my head on his shoulder. He leans his head against mine. It makes me feel safe, as safe as I can feel in my father’s house. Not safe in the sense that my father won’t hurt me, but safe in the sense that should he do so, Percy will be there in the aftermath. Not that I want Percy around when I have fresh bruises, but after that: the two or so weeks where I’m always on edge or exhausted, hardly able to eat because I don’t want to face my father at meals and my stomach is too uneasy to take much, and all I want to do is die.
Often when I feel like that, I try to recite that list Percy gave me—his five reasons not to be dead. It doesn’t always change my mind, but it helps a little. I still want to die but I think if I did, Percy wouldn’t be very happy with me. And I love Percy too much to have him be cross with me.
For a while, Percy and I just sit there, silently. He starts rubbing the small of my back, almost absent-mindedly. We listen to the songs that the band plays, listen to the guests laughing and talking. People begin to quiet down as a slower song comes on, less lively than the others, a little sad.
Percy stands up abruptly. I almost slump over. Percy holds his hand out to me. “Dance with me,” he says.
“What?” I sit up.
“Dance with me,” he repeats.
“Who’s going to lead?” I ask.
“Me,” Percy says like it was obvious. I must look put out by this because he scoffs. “Please, it’s not like you don’t know how to play the girl’s role.”
My mouth falls open when I understand what he’s insinuating. “I resent that!”
“You’re not exactly a Roman, you know,” he continues, looking far too pleased with himself.
“Percy Newton!”
Then he just laughs. “Stand up!” he urges. “Dance with me!”
“Fine,” I say, making a point of sighing as I stand up. I am actually curious to see how this goes. Percy and I clasp hands. He puts a hand on my waist and I put one on his shoulder. We’re both suppressing laughs from how ridiculous we feel.
Percy starts to lead me through the dance and it’s fun . For a few minutes, it’s just me and the boy I love, swaying more than dancing in this empty room. I can forget about my father waiting outside these walls, just for a minute. Don’t I deserve that, at least? A minute of peace?
“I’m going to spin you,” Percy says.
“You’re going to what ?”
“Spin you!” Percy grins. “Come on! It’s easy!”
I shake my head but, despite myself, stumble along as Percy spins me, laughing.
“There you go,” Percy says like a tutor praising a student. That makes me laugh even more because Percy definitely isn’t the best dancer on the floor.
When he pulls me back to him, I put my arms around his neck so both of his arms fall to my hips. We meet each other’s eyes—the two of us doing more shuffling than dancing now—and something passes between us.
Something. I don’t know what. Something that I could have if I were brave enough to take it. But I’m not. Percy is looking at me like he wants to know all of my darkest secrets, but he already does. Except for the one secret that I can’t ever tell him, no matter how much I want to. Especially not now.
I don’t think I could handle it, not as emotionally unstable as I am at the moment, if I told him and he rejected me.
His gaze scares me with its intensity. I avert my eyes, looking at his neck instead. It is a fine neck. I still feel Percy’s eyes on me but I won’t look up. I’m trying to keep all these feelings at bay. I hate feelings.
Percy swallows, which doesn’t help my case at all.
“Monty?” he says softly. Jesus, the way he says my name sometimes.
I look up again because I’m weak. I meet his eyes. I don’t know what the look that he’s giving me means, but it feels sacred. I feel like I shouldn’t even be seeing it.
Oh darling, I think, I would break you .
It’s true. If Percy didn’t break me with his rejection, then I would break him with my reciprocation. He’s just so soft and kind and breakable . Not that he’s fragile. Percy is strong in ways that I could never be. But I know his weak spots. If by some miracle, I spent my life with Percy, I would use those weak spots against him. If I had a life with Percy, I would turn old, sad, and mean. I would pick Percy apart with my own two hands and enjoy it because I had been broken long ago. And I know I could never do that to him. That’s why, aside from glaringly obvious reasons, I really never can tell Percy how I feel. He doesn’t deserve that. Percy deserves so much better than I could ever give him.
My face must darken with my thoughts because Percy stops. He regards me for a few long seconds. Then he pulls me into a hug. And we are still. Swaying slightly, but still for the most part. In each other’s arms. My face nestled against Percy’s chest, hearing his heartbeat, completely out-of-time with the song.
“What’s going on in that thick head of yours?” Percy asks, which makes me laugh.
“Nothing of importance.”
“Then don’t bother thinking about it,” Percy says like I am in any way capable of not thinking about him.
I hum in response but don’t say anything. The song ends in the ballroom, changing to a more upbeat tune. Percy and I don’t move though.
“You know,” Percy finally says, “you’re not a terrible dancer.”
I scoff. “Gee, thanks.”
After another short silence, Percy says, “I missed this sort of thing while you were at Eton.”
I nod. I did too. I’ve only been to a few parties with Percy since I’ve returned home. The first one I left early claiming a headache when really I just couldn’t stand being in the same room with my father for so long. This is the first party that I really felt up to and we see how that turned out. I’ve missed doing nothing important with Percy.
We stand there for a while, just hugging. I missed this, easy affection with Percy, too. I’ll admit that I’m the kind of person who needs to be touched (ironic, isn’t that?) and without Percy around, I was starved of it at Eton. All I had was Sinjon, and he was more of the kiss-first-talk-later sort which left even less time for cuddling. It’s better having Percy right here at my fingertips. Even before I realized the full intensity of my feelings for him, I craved Percy’s touch like I crave spirits now.
In the ballroom, we hear my mother’s voice as she thanks the guests for coming. They’ll be leaving soon.
“We should probably go make ourselves accessible again,” I say. I start to pull away from Percy but he stops me.
“Wait,” he says. “There’s something I want to try.”
I eye him warily. “There might be a reason I don’t usually let you make the plans.”
He rolls his eyes. “Hey, nothing bad came from dancing. But I want to try and dip you.”
“ No ,” I say, “absolutely not.”
“Monty!” Percy whines. “It’s not like it’s hard. You’re lightweight.”
I ignore his jab and return with one of my own. “Have you ever actually tried it with a living person before?”
“Sure I have!”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Don’t you trust me?”
Loaded bloody question, I think. Still, I give a heavy sigh. “I guess.”
Percy smiles. We return to our proper positions and go through the steps. It’s an adjustment, being dipped (not that I’ve been able to dip many girls at this height) but Percy does it rather flawlessly. He doesn’t struggle to hold me up at all, but we’re both laughing again because of the sheer absurdity of this all. Then we meet eyes again and there’s that something again . It still scares me but I really could just kiss him right now.
And then he drops me.
I hit the ground, lucky that I don’t hit my head. I yelp, mostly from surprise than pain (though there isn’t an insignificant amount of that either). “Arse!”
Percy’s mouth hangs open. “Shit, Monty, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “At least be a bloody gentleman and help me up, will you?” Percy offers his hand and pulls me to my feet. I huff and make a dramatic show of dusting myself off.
“I really am sorry,” Percy says again.
“It’s fine,” I say. I link my arm with his. “Come on, let’s get back before he notices that I’ve left.”
I lay half on my bed, half off. I’m still in my clothes from the party but I don’t have the energy to change. Plus, standing just doesn’t sound very appealing right now. It wasn’t the worst night in terms of my father’s anger. I’m not even sure I’ll be bruised. But I lost my balance after a particularly well-placed blow and caught my foot on something. It feels sprained. Just getting up to my bedroom was a bit of a challenge. I keep reminding myself that it could be worse. It was worse when I was expelled. It’s been worse before. Flirting with Steven was hardly a punishable offense for my father to waste his energy on. What I did with Percy would have been more of a crime.
I still can’t quite figure out what that was between Percy and I. That something I kept feeling. I wonder if he felt it too. He probably didn’t and I’m probably just deluding myself after what could be generously considered a romantic moment with Percy.
I force myself to my feet and almost fall onto my bed again. I guess it doesn’t really matter, what that dance with Percy meant. In this shape, I won’t be dancing again anytime soon.
(art by HeleneInTheClouds)