The Dance That Started It All

The train smoked and heaved like a brash, breathless beast of burden. Jack and I stood packed shoulder to shoulder, amongst the exodus of women in wide-brimmed hats and men in beige overcoats. Despite everything, the crowd was comforting in the way that one could just dissolve in its vast span and just become another commuter. They didn't care as to who you were or where you were from- or hell, even what you were.

Jack had tucked the first class tickets into the pocket of his pale blue waist coat and seemed to be far less comfortable in the situation than I. While I could walk with my head held high among foot traffic, Jack could barely cope. He withered and hunched down in the persistent flow of people and ever present dampness of body heat in the air. In a way, he resembled the way a child may struggle to swim in a particularly fast moving river. The fragile look on his face pierced something deep within me- maybe pity or maybe sympathy. But whatever it was, it was potent, because I acted on an impulse. I grabbed his hand in mine and pushed forward, guiding him through the crowd. If he said anything to me, it was lost over the whistle of the iron monster and the complaining of the people around us.

Together we had made it past a good-natured ticket greeter in his late thirties whose gaze seemed to linger upon me for a moment longer than what seemed natural. He took my free hand into his satin gloved one, bowing slightly. I could feel my face flush darkly, although I couldn't help but smile. Those behind us complained audibly or gawked at the sight and a few of them whispered. I didn't think much of it at the time, though. Jack gripped my hand far tighter than was comfortable, until my fingertips were a swollen red color. I grimaced and whispered something apologetic to the man. I wasn't expecting anything other than a disinterested yet polite nod. However, he stared into my very soul and uttered four words.

"Good day, your highness." I stumbled after Jack in a stupidly giddy daze, attempting to process the words leveled at me.

"Did you hear that?" I whispered to Jack, beaming, "He called me highness!"

He looked at me with a curious expression for a moment, dark brows furrowed together softly. I never understood what he was thinking when he looked at me like that, only that he must be pondering something really intently. How ironic, that one of the most pallidly transparent people I knew was impossible to see through.

"What?"

"I think that's the first time I've seen you genuinely happy." He still held my hand, even when I tugged slightly.

"You've only been with me for what, two days at most?" I felt my smile fall, "It's perfectly fine for a gal not to be all sugar and spice all the time." I said defensively and ripped my hand from his sharply.

"No, There's nothing wrong with that! It's just that normal girls tend to smile-"

"Normal! I beg your pardon?" I strode past him, towards the the first class cart. My feet padded lightly on the intricate patterns of the oriental rug.

"That's not what I meant- not that you're weird or anything! It's just I've never met a dame whose such a sore thumb before." He followed, his longer legs making it easier to match the pace I had set.

"Had I not known about your antics before, I wouldn't believe you were a such a womanizer! Golly, first you tell them they're freaks and then you call 'em squares- some Don Juan you are!" We passed the sparsely populated dining cart and bickered all the while. Couples seated at white-clothed tables turned to us, heads ducked together like gossiping schoolchildren. Sometimes, I genuinely despise being around other people, especially particularly attractive ones named Jack.