You!

I was certainly overdressed.

A dance competition smack dab in the Student Union at six in the afternoon.

All the deadweights from classes or clubs who wandered in. All now earnestly snared to watch. Only the contestants had thought to dust their cheeks red or wear their finest and match standing with the poise and taut fluidity of, well, dancers.

Among shorty shorts and springtime skirts, there was that one. The one taking a drag in the corner while events unfolded.

Me? Well I couldn't lie. A waltz wasn't as boring as it looked and neither was a macarena. I jotted down pages worth of notes. Sloppy drawings of the competition, opinions on the favorite; a coveted position held by both Hartley Macy and Sylvia Monterra.

The straight hair, porcelain Asian beauty versus a robust, serious Latina.

It made my heart pitter just a bit.

By-line-- by Devon Sooth. The ins and outs of academia star turned hot dance craze Hardin Simmons.

Quaint, sizzling, and sensationalizing.

___________________

Darn stitch.

To feel such a prickling itch, right at this moment, her heels click-click-clicking wildly and phone pressed to my ear.

"I can't believe this," I hissed crossly.

"Look I'm sorry, I really am," he tried.

"No. No apologizing."

"Syl don't do this, come on..."

"You let me down. Goodbye."

And without another wasted moment pressed the 'end call' dial.

My eyes turned toward Hartley, who not three minutes ago and still now, hid her snide little giggles as a cough. Hands all over her poor boyfriend. Awkward with bangs swept delicately over his eyes rockin' Goth to match a classy tight fit black sequin dress.

I was furious, I was unravelling.

"On in one minute, Hartley Macy and then newcomer, Sylvia Monterra."

Hartley's sleek, shiny hair crested in gentle falls on one shoulder.

"Oh well, you gave it a fight. But let's be honest, that fancy dance? It just doesn't-- oh it isn't your tone, don't change," she simpered, honeyed and poisonous.

And my eyes laid upon, possibly a miracle. Possibly the craziest plan ever conceived of and a sure-fire way to humiliate myself. Within this gargantuan, dreamy moment of my life.

"You!" I called, taking a snowy arm into my own. Made up in the perfect contrasting dark and daring dress. "You'll do. So just follow my lead once they call."

She blabbered on, clearly nervous. I didn't have the time to care.

________________

"Sylvia Monterra and--"

"A surprise. And a very special person," creating a whole stir.

I swallowed thickly, burning under the lights and stares of confounded and serious judge panel.

Sylvia's silent cue wasn't anymore forgiving. Except she held my hand much tighter.

"Devon. Devon Sooth," I announced. 'Of the Hardin Heart Press.'

Tumbled out in a rapid whisper just as the music boomed in sudden strength and vigor.