Can’t Help Falling

"God, I can't believe our moms made us do this," says Simon.

"Me neither," I reply, rolling my eyes.

Above us, a disco ball spins, spilling colourful lights on our slow-moving, hesitant bodies. Etta James' song, "At Last" blasts through the speakers, which is a nice song when you're not dancing with your sworn enemy. All I want to do is plug my ears and curl up into a ball and die.

"We're gonna take it slo-o-o-w now, folks. Go on and grab your favourite partner and show them how much you think your love has come along . . ." the DJ had blurted into the microphone, and I wish he didn't, because that's when Simon's mother and mine thought it would be the perfect opportunity to push us together and threaten to take away our cellphones for a month if we didn't dance.

I look over to the edge of the dance floor where our mothers are snickering and giving us the "thumbs up" sign. I would have given a better hand gesture, but I thought better of it, lest I wanted more things taken away or more time touching this dweeb in front of me. Let them have their moment of temporary folly.

"It's like they don't understand us," he says as his arms are wrapped around my waist. I loosen his grip, cringing at how he could even have the nerve to lay his hands on me.

"I think they just want us to get along," I justify.

As much as I hated where they were coming from, I could see where our moms were coming from. They had been best friends in high school and still are to this day. It must have been a shame to have their children grow up and hate each other. But it's not my fault that Simon used to steal my pencils in third grade and never gave them back. I paid three weeks worth of my fifty cent allowance to buy those sparkly pink pencils! The erasers hardly worked, but at least they were pretty. Simon spent the entire year smudging his homework, which serves him right.

"Like that's ever going to happen."

I smile. At least we could agree on one thing.

Granted, I hadn't been a saint either. In fifth grade, I would throw balls of crumpled-up paper at the back of his head in class and pretend it wasn't me when he turned around. Oh, and there was that time where I flushed his favourite toy car down the toilet when he wouldn't let me see what he kept it a drawer in his room. It turned out to be his underwear, but still. He could have just said so.

"All you lovebirds out on the floor right now, stay put . . . and put your head on your partner's lovin' shoulder . . ." says that ridiculous DJ.

Before I can protest, "Put Your Head on my Shoulder" by Paul Anka starts playing throughout the dimly-lit room. I can't believe my ears. I was not doing two songs. I look over to our mothers - mine is waggling her finger back and forth to signify that we had to continue or else, and Simon's makes kissy faces like a fish. Both are laughing hysterically. Who were the kids, anyway?

"Look, all we have to do is pretend like we're enjoying ourselves and it'll be over in a few minutes," I say, trying to stop myself from sweating through my dress with all the nerves running through my system.

"You know, this isn't so bad."

Wait, what?

I look up at Simon, the boy who I had declared my sworn enemy back when we were four years old on the day he poured sand down my shorts at the playground, and I wonder just what on earth has gotten into him. I start getting a sick feeling in my stomach as blood rushes to my cheeks. Hold up, what is this feeling?

"It's actually kinda nice. Don't you think?" he continues.

I just about faint when he says that. Do I think? Do I think? Oh, Simon, I've been thinking ever since you went and told Johnny in seventh grade I hated his guts when I actually had a huge crush on him. . . . But you knew that, didn't you?

"Maybe," I mumble, and I can't believe I'm doing this, but I put his hands right back where they were before, and he doesn't protest.

I turn to look at our mothers, but they've already gone to refill their glasses of punch. Simon doesn't notice, and I don't tell him, as Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling in Love With You" comes on.