(Continued from Crazy Behaviour)
He comes over to me.
‘I imagine you don’t have any dances free?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ I say, surprised. ‘But I’d love to try a milonga!’ I look at the glass of wine in his hand. ‘Or have you not had enough of that!?’
‘No – we could….’ He scans the room. It’s the interval between dances, and the floor is crowded with people chatting.
‘Outside?’ I say.
We milonga on the terrace. No. He milongas; I do a decent impression of a plank of wood. After about ten minutes, the band resumes playing, and we go back inside.
‘I think I need to watch some YouTube videos!’ I say. ‘But thank you.’
‘Not at all.’ He smiles politely. ‘I hope there’ll be another opportunity.’
He doesn’t mean this; I’m sure of it. But half an hour later, I’m not even close to forgetting him.
(TO BE CONTINUED)