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( July 1985 )
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THE NEXT DAY HAD COME IN NO TIME, BUT CONTRARY TO POPULAR BELIEF—Bea was nowhere near ready. With a white button-up halfway buttoned on her torso, miss matched holiday socks on each foot, hair pinned up with multiple rubber bands that threatened to fall out, a pair of shorts too short to be seen beneath her blouse unless she raised her arms, a hairbrush in hand, and a pair of sunglasses on—she had been lost in time and sliding around her house listening to The Smiths as loudly as possible while home alone.
"To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die!" she sang loudly into her brush with her eyes squeezed shut. Beatrice knew better than to let her music so loudly she couldn't even hear her thoughts, she had seen enough movies about teenagers who did just that and got themselves killed, but there was such a rush and freedom she felt with doing so that she couldn't find herself resist.
Maybe Bea should watch more movies.
The front door of her home creaked open as she slid on the hardwood floors from the foyer into the kitchen. The music bounced off of every wall in the house from her plugged-in music player that the sound of footsteps nearing were never even a thought.
"Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care, I don't care, I don't care!" she shouted spinning in a way that could put ten-year-old ice skaters to shame.
The figure followed her eccentric singing to her kitchen and there they crossed their arms leaning against the framing of the entrance. This was Steve. Steve had been the one to inch his way into her home undetected for long enough to be watching Beatrice sing and dance her heart out on her kitchen floor.
He found it amusing in a way—of course, there would always be a part of him that would find this amusement as a form of adoration, but those were both just A words to Steve. They went hand in hand.
"Nice socks!" He shouted teasingly. Not a moment later after his compliment, a scream erupted from her throat and at the same time her hairbrush had been catapulted from her hand and at his pretty face. He shouted, she jumped, screamed, threw her hairbrush, and then felt her heart come back to her chest from settling in the soles of her feet.
"What the actual hell is wrong with you!?" Bea exclaimed with a hand over her chest. "Why didn't you knock!?"
Steve stared at her bewildered while nursing the throbbing pain he felt beneath his eye. "I did! I don't think you noticed because you were blasting this!" he pointed up and continued to shout over the music. Realizing he was right, she rushed over to the music player and ejected the tape that had been playing which immediately calmed the shaking house down. Steve then stared at her from across the kitchen now noticing what she was wearing. "I thought you said this was a Christmas in July party?" he motioned towards his hideous sweater vest.
Bea's eyes turned into a deer in headlights because then she was overly aware of her clothing—or lack thereof.
Wordlessly, the girl ran right past Steve and up the stairs closing her bedroom door behind her in a flash. She pressed her back against the door for a moment, her whole body suddenly heating up tremendously at what she accidentally allowed Steve to see. "I'm never dancing home alone again," she mumbled to her herself eyeing the horrendous sweater vest she had chosen for the July weather.
Bea's excitement for the party had suddenly overcome her and stirred in with her embarrassment to cause an anxious tingling to begin beneath her skin. "Never again," she said once more putting her outfit on.
EVENTUALLY, BEATRICE HAD GOTTEN HERSELF COMPLETELY READY FOR THE PARTY—bright red and green eyeliner with large ornament earrings to match, her shoes had been miss matched green and red Chuck Taylor's as well. Taking her steps down her stairs, the sound of her tapes being played had piqued her interest and she was thankful they did because of the sight she saw in her kitchen.
There stood Steve, well danced Steve, to the beginning of Summer Nights playing at a decent volume in the kitchen.
"Nice moves!" Bea teased from where Steve had done the very same only minutes ago. He froze in his spot, but instead of running away he only grinned widely beckoning her to come dance.
"Summer lovin' happened so fast," he sang in a higher octave than his usual voice while waving his hands over frantically to the girl.
"I met a girl, crazy for me," she quietly gave in and timidly shuffled over to Steve who had been wearing a grin from ear to ear.
"Met a boy, cute as can be!" He dramatically acted as if he were reeling her in on a fishing line.
"Summer days, drifting away," they sang in sync as Bea became more comfortable with singing louder. "To-ah! Oh, the summer nights- oh well, oh well, oh well, huh."
"Tell me more, tell me more, did you get very far?" Bea lowered her voice singing to Steve while they moved around the kitchen dramatically.
"Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a car?" Steve sang higher once more.
Then as they laughed together, Bea's laughter died down and a provoking question swirled into her head. She lowered the music putting a hand on her hip, "Steven?" He hummed a response noticing the quieter music. "Since when do you watch Grease?"
His face paled and a flush crept over his striking features. "Not important," he unplugged the music player and ushered her towards to door while grabbing his keys he had set on the counter. "Let's get to that party, eh?" he diverted.
The girl shone a devious smile, "I'm never letting this go."
He groaned closing the door behind him. "Of course you aren't."
