“The decor down here is . . . interesting.” I caught Evgenia slowing briefly to squint at the walls.
“The servant decks are ABBA themed,” I said, barely suppressing a giggle. It was one of the more bizarre things on board the Scandinavian, though I found it oddly charming, too.
“Why?” Evgenia tilted her head like a confused puppy. She was staring at a floor-to-ceiling-size portrait of Benny done in an abstract, Warholian style.
“You have a problem with ABBA?” Klara rounded on her, eyes aflame.
“Uh, no? I like that one song . . .”
Klara rolled her eyes. “‘Dancing Queen’? So basic.” Okay, sometimes I really loved my cousin. I snorted a laugh, quickly turning it into a cough when Evgenia’s eyes flashed with hurt.
“All the words on the walls are lyrics,” I launched into an explanation. “ABBA is a huge part of our pop-culture history.”
“Miss Kolburg is right,” Nora piped in.
“Call me Leo!” I corrected her.
“Uh, yes, I mean Leo’s right. The decor is ridiculous, but we do quite like the music. You might hear some at the party tonight.”
Evgenia raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, it seems I am outnumbered!” She laughed, clearly not taking it too seriously. She hooked her arm through mine and mock-whispered conspiratorially into my ear, “You’ll have to teach me the finer points of ABBA appreciation so I can fit in with the crowd.”
We set off again, walking another minute down the long corridor until we arrived at the spot I remembered so well. They’d painted every possible surface black and lit everything with purple, pink, and blue strobes that washed over the central dance floor in alternating patterns. The old stage housed the DJ, who was sporting electric-blue hair and a shiny silver jacket that stood out among the crowd. Everyone was considerably dressed down, certainly compared to us, in sleek black with similar pops of metallic, neon, and bright. We looked ridiculous, like cream puffs and penguins in our finery. Accordingly, Elliot and Lukas shrugged out of their suit jackets, finding a clear table and an arrangement of seats on which to discard them.
I kicked off my shoes with a sigh, hearing a hiss beside me. Klara frowned at my bare feet, nose wrinkled with disdain. “Gross, Leo.” But I only shrugged.
“No one cares down here, and they clean the floors every day.” This much I remembered from my adventures with Elliot.
“How bizarre!” Evgenia burst out a laugh, though not one at my expense, I thought. She sounded delighted. Balancing herself with a hand on my shoulder, she stepped out of her shoes as well, losing several inches of height but gaining a more radiant smile. Luckily, she was already dressed for dancing, having chosen a magenta tea dress with a vibrant butterfly-patterned tulle overlay. Then she grabbed me by the hand and dragged me over to the dance floor.
“We’ll leave them to cluck about fashion faux pas over champagne while we have fun!” We wove through a sea of bodies to the center of the dance floor. Evgenia finally stopped and spun me around under her arm, like I was her date.
“Actually, they don’t serve champagne down here,” I shouted over the loud music. “And I’m surprised you’re so low-key about fashion, considering!”
She shrugged, though maybe it was just a dance move. “I like dressing up, but what’s the point if you can’t have fun? It’s good luck you chose the drop-waist silk, though, dear Leo. Not too frilly and perfect for dancing!”
I had to agree. Evgenia was earning more than a few looks in her fancy party frock. I glimpsed Klara, Carina, Lukas, and Elliot making their way onto the edges of the dance floor, and I saw many looks of confusion, as well as a choice few of consternation. I craned my neck to find Nora, who blended in easily in her black work clothes, and caught her making plaintive faces at those nearest her. A silent apology for bringing Klara below decks. Poor thing.
Lights strobed over my face, momentarily blinding me; I closed my eyes to feel the bass throbbing up through my feet. It felt good to be back. I’d not dared come back without Elliot in the years since he left. This used to be our place, where we could have fun and be free without fear of censure from my family. He used to kiss me on this very dance floor, and in the dark corners, and in the corridors . . .
My lips tingled from phantom kisses, burned with memories and regrets. I needed to stop thinking about it, about him. I flung my head back and closed my eyes as my body swayed drunkenly to the music.
The night was young, which meant many of the residents of the deck were still on duty. It meant I could never quite lose Elliot on my periphery. I danced, tried to let myself go, jumping up and down like an idiot every time the beat dropped, clasping hands with Evgenia and taking turns with spins and dips. Lukas circled the two of us, sidling up to me whenever I accidentally gave him an opening, pulling up too close, hips drawn to my ass like a stubborn magnet, hands far too grabby for my liking. But Evgenia had the sense of a hawk and would quickly edge him back out from our circle of two every time. She was rapidly becoming my favorite person, not only for this, but because she was currently the only woman I knew who wasn’t trying to court Elliot.
. . . Unlike Carina and Klara, who were locked in the most awkward little dance circle with him, their frustration mounting to the point of palpability. I could feel it across the dance floor, ten feet away. My eyes betrayed my better sense, flicking over to the trio far too often, cataloging the unfolding of events: Klara edging Carina out of the circle, grabbing Elliot by the shoulders, and trying to force him into an intimate slow dance, counter to the beat of the music. Carina smartly used a song transition to grab him by the hand, spin under his arm, and restore the circle. Well, it was more of a triangle, really. Or a cluster.
Nora joined them, welcomed readily by Elliot, who opened up the circle for her and graced her with that smile, those dimples. Rightly distracted by the brilliance of Elliot’s affection, Nora missed Klara’s contemptuous glare. The music changed, to an ABBA song of all things, and the group dynamic shifted. The song was slower, though by no means a slow-dance kind of song, yet Elliot grabbed Nora by the arm and pulled her into a twosome, leaving Carina and Klara to dance awkwardly with each other.
But I scarcely noticed the drama with the two girls. Instead, I watched Elliot and Nora, rapt. Nora threw her arms up over his shoulders, and his arms whispered over her hips. Elliot leaned down close to her ear, and I watched his lips move like someone from a silent movie. Whatever he was saying was delivered with a half grin. Nora’s cheeks flushed, though maybe from the dancing?
My throat went tight. Here I was, forced to watch Elliot flirt with yet another girl, right in front of me. Dance with someone else, hold her the way he used to hold me, in this very place. Every second was torture. I could see them swaying to the music, Nora bouncing up onto her tiptoes to respond in kind, lips to Elliot’s ear, a matching smile on her face. What I wouldn’t give to hear what they were saying!
I felt someone jostle my side, and I whipped my head around to tell him off. Ugh, Lukas again. Evgenia the saint swooped in, giving him an uncharacteristic ice-cold look, and he finally gave up, going over to join Klara and Carina. Both were dancing halfheartedly, as engrossed in The Elliot-and-Nora Show as I was. Lukas was poorly received. It became a pleasure to see him ignored by both my sister and my cousin. I almost felt bad for him.