“I haven’t,” the girl professed, “So hope I don’t step on your toes.” It was the least she could do, really. A step to the left here, a few to the right there, a twirl or two, and even after bumping into a few people, she hadn’t physically harmed the man she was dancing with. That’s a start.
“Hope I’m not,” Stone began in the middle of a twirl, “Dancing too uncultured for you.” But it was said in a friendly tone, even if her face was twisted in concentration, trying to give the dance her all, to make some semblance of, dare she say it, graceful movement.
Again, she wondered, ‘Why the hell not?’
Because, after all, today was special. And she gave a small smile.