Page 16 of That Summer Feeling

I didn’t remember giving him my name, but I couldn’t really remember a single thing at that moment other than that I missed Stevie, and I loved to dance, and if given the chance, I was going to yell “Hee-haw!” again.

“Campers,” the lead singer continued, inciting a big laugh from me. It would never stop being funny that I was acamper.“We want you to look around and find someone in this crowd to share a special dance with. Doesn’t matter if you know them well or not. It’s probably better if you don’t. But we’re gonna close this out with one last song, and all we ask is that you treat this like what it is—a summer-camp slow dance.”

They started playing a country cover of “Hero” by Enrique Iglesias, the very song I had slow danced to with Lyle Holter in seventh grade. He’d sweat so much his hands had left imprints on my silky T.J. Maxx dress, and we took a disposable camera picture together that didn’t get developed properly. All you could see were our awkward torsos, leaving generous space for the Holy Spirit between us.

Mason put a hand on my shoulder again and squeezed. “Wanna dance this one with me?”

“Sure,” I said.

His arms around my waist were much more confident than the seventh-grade take on this, but I felt just as nervous. Maybe even more so. Even though I was drunker than the day was long, I could still feel the uncertainty of my footwork and hand placement. I never understood why as kids we didn’t pull each other close enough to avoid making eye contact. At least Mason gave me that courtesy. I rested my head against his sweaty torso, combing the crowd for Stevie one last time. I’d started doubting my memory of her face. I needed to look at her longer so I could never lose track of her again.

When the song finished, it became clear that Mason had been holding me up more than dancing with me. All the liquor in my system had turned me liquid myself. I was maybe ten minutes away from passing out or vomiting. I could seeonly the outlines of things. My thoughts. My hands. The world itself.

“Night night,” I said to Mason, patting him on the head and wandering off, finding myself in front of a wall instead of the very large open door. “Whoops.”

After a few course corrections, someone had a hand on my biceps.

“It was the cocktail Dara got you after beer pong. That’s what did you in.”

The voice was Stevie’s. That effortless, low confidence. She spoke like she never questioned her own words. Like she always knew exactly what she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it.

“I missed you so much,” I said, poking her freckled nose. “Where’d you go?”

Her hand moved from my biceps to the entirety of my back. “You really are drunk, aren’t you?”

I kept poking her freckles as she led us toward our cabin. “No.”

“Did you have a good time with Mason? I saw you two slow dancing.”

“He’s so tall,” I told her.

“Yes, he’s very tall.”

“How come you didn’t dance with anybody?”

“How do you know I didn’t?”

“Because I was looking for you,” I slurred. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” she repeated.

We were outside now, trudging along the dirt paths we’d walked all day, following lamplit markers to Cabin Seven.

“You didn’t answer,” I noted.

“I was drinking water,” she said, guiding me up the stairs. “Something I suggest you do too.”

“You were drinking water forhours? That’s a lie!” I had a well-documented boldness to me when I was drunk. I said things without consideration for whether the other person would be offended by the level of truth I was communicating.

Stevie did not respond.

The light inside our cabin glowed bright against the darkness. When we stumbled through the door together, we found our roommate, Michelle, sitting in the common area eating a bowl of cereal. She had on a matching pajama set and fuzzy slippers.

“You two closed it down,” she said.

“I wish you were there!” I told her, suddenly swept up in sincere regret. I wanted to know her better, and I’d lost a whole day’s worth of opportunity to do that. “We missed you so much!”

“Oh, I was there,” she informed me. “I saw you leading your dance class. But I couldn’t get through your army of fans to talk to you.”