“It was the two-hundred-meter breaststroke, and right before it started my mom went to the side of the pool and hugged him and said, ‘Everybody loves you, Buddy.’ So when he touched the wall first, he ripped off his goggles and pumped his fist in the air and yelled, ‘Who loves me now?’ Everyone laughed, and he’s been winning ever since.”
By four that afternoon, Buddy had six gold medals hanging from his neck and Lucy felt like she’d run a marathon herself. The heat and all the pure emotion was exhausting, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the competitions. There seemed to be a lot of hugging going on, which fascinated her. Hugs seemed to be as important as the medals. After a singles tennis match, the victor dropped to her knees and kissed the court before she was crushed with hugs from her coach, parents, friends, and even her competition. When a tall, strong high jumper hit the bar with his shoulder and cried in disappointment, he was hugged by his rivals.
At about five, Theo drove them back to the house, where they planned to eat and get showered and changed for the evening’s festivities-the closing ceremony and victory dance. The dance was all Buddy talked about on the drive from the stadium. Apparently, the dance was the best thing about the Summer Games.
“Are you going to dance tonight, Lucy?” Buddy had turned his excited sun-brown face around toward her in the backseat of Theo’s car, where she sat enjoying the air-conditioning.
“I’m not a big dancer, Buddy.”
“Oh, don’t be such a party pooper!” He turned around in his seat, clearly disappointed.
Theo caught her eye in the rearview mirror and smiled. “Tonight just might change all that, Luce,” he said.
Dinner was ready when they arrived, and Martin and Vivian waited for them in the cavernous dining room, sipping cocktails and looking cool and rested. Lucy was starving. It was all she could do not to attack the meal of grilled halibut and vegetables, cold corn relish, and salad. She wanted to shove it in with her bare hands until she was so stuffed she couldn’t move. Instead, she forced herself to eat a sensible portion slowly, with utensils and everything, and enjoyed the company.
After dinner, Lucy had just enough time to get a shower and change before they had to leave again. She’d only brought one nice outfit-a new sundress in a size L-no “Xs” anywhere on the tag. It was a simple sheath in muted oranges and pinks, with a zipper in the back and a scoop neck. It hit just above her knees. She put on a pair of fisherman sandals and dabbed on some lip gloss and gave herself a sprite of Paradise Awaits. She kept her hair loose around her shoulders so it could dry naturally.
Lucy was writing in her food journal when Buddy began calling her name from down the long hallway.
“Lucy! Let’s go! I can’t be late!”
She met Buddy in the foyer, immediately noticing how dapper he looked in his white cotton button-down and chinos, his short hair glistening with gel, his face scrubbed clean. When Lucy asked Buddy why he wasn’t wearing his gold medals, he looked at her like she was from Mars.
“It’s uncool to wear your medals to the dance,” he said. “It looks like you’re bragging.”
Theo strolled into the foyer, jangling his car keys and patting his pants pocket for his wallet, and Lucy’s heart just about fell to the white marble floor. He was wearing a pale blue loose-fitting rayon shirt with an open neck, white linen slacks, and sandals. He looked squeaky clean. He glowed from the sun. He smelled like heaven; A little patch of golden-brown hair appeared just below the hollow of his throat.
She had the strangest urge to lick him there.
Theo stopped, turned, and gave Lucy an odd little frown-almost as if he’d just heard her thoughts out loud. That would be a problem, since throat licking wasn’t something friends did to each other as a rule; at least it wasn’t something she’d done with any friend she’d ever had.
“Can we just go now?” Buddy stood by the front door with his hands on his hips. “You are staring at each other like you do on TV and I just really feel like dancing.”
The closing ceremony was short and sweet, and as a few special awards were handed out Lucy’s body stung with awareness. Theo sat next to her in the stands, the long solid length of his thigh pressed up against her from hip to knee. All Lucy could think about was the kiss they’d shared on another track in another town, the one that they’d agreed was a mistake, and how she could go about getting another one.
Lucy turned slightly and looked at Theo. He was staring at her with that odd little frown again. But he didn’t look her in the eye. He scanned her face, stopping with particular concern on her lips. Then his nostrils flared.
Lucy needed to say something funny and say it now or she was going to throw her arms around Theo Redmond’s neck and kiss her trainer in front of thousands of mentally retarded Floridians.
She was saved from this humiliation when the emcee announced that the Games had come to their official close and added, “Would anyone care to dance?”
It was mayhem. Athletes stampeded out of the stands and swarmed the infield, jumping and running and shouting as the DJ began his program.
Lucy and Theo hung back in the stands for a while to get a good view of the action.
Many of the girls and women wore nice dresses, all along the spectrum from church clothes to chiffon prom dresses complete with matching corsages. The boys and men sported everything from the usual shorts and tees to slippery oversize suits and spats.
The crowd went into a frenzy when the disc jockey played “The Chicken Dance,” followed by “Wooly Bully,” then the Village People’s “YMCA,” and ‘The Macarena.“
“That DJ has got to start pacing himself,” Lucy said to Theo. “He’s already played all the greatest songs known to man and it’s not even eight thirty.”
“Dance with me, Luce.” Theo grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.
“But-” Lucy stumbled forward, tugging on the hem of her sundress.
“No buts tonight.” Theo led her down the steps and across the track, greeting at least a dozen people he knew on the way, never stopping, finally pulling her onto the grass and into his arms.
“I’m not the world’s best dancer, Theo.”
“And that’s going to be a problem here?” He gestured broadly at the crowd around them and smiled down at Lucy.
She had to admit he had a point. There was some rather unconventional movement taking place on the grassy dance floor, and much of it didn’t require a partner or even a beat. One woman was happily doing the 1960s-era Swim. There was a long and disjointed conga line snaking through the crowd, gleefully knocking apart small groups as it went. There was a Rockette-like kick line of women with decidedly un-Rockette-like physiques. And some waltzing. Plus a lot of jumping around and hollering.
Lucy didn’t think she’d ever been around so many people who couldn’t care less what others thought of them.
“Thanks for asking me here this weekend.”
Theo’s face softened, and in the bright stadium lights his eyes twinkled down on her. “Thanks for coming.”
The DJ chose that particular moment to play Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” which made Lucy groan and turn her face away from Theo’s.
“Does Elvis make you uncomfortable?”
“Just some of his lyrics.”
Theo’s hand pressed into the small of Lucy’s back and brought her even closer. She felt herself mold into him, rest her cheek on his hard but comfortable chest. Why did everything about Theo have to be just right? Why couldn’t his chest feel too bony under her cheek, or too fleshy? Why couldn’t she be disgusted by the scent of his skin? Why couldn’t she be annoyed by the sound of his voice?
One of Theo’s hands moved to her hair and Lucy started. She tried to pull away, but he kept her there, and that’s when she felt his lips press down on the top of her head.