Slow, slow, quick, quick. Slow, slow, quick, quick. Evan hopes his partner can't feel how fast his heart is racing. He struggles to keep his breathing steady as they move slowly around the floor. This was a terrible idea. He never should have come tonight. Ballroom dancing. It would take an idiot not to realize that social dancing and anxiety aren't a great combination. But it had been so long since Evan had danced, and he missed it. Granted, ballet didn't required as much physical contact as the foxtrot does, but his mom had been so excited for him, so Evan told himself it would be fine. It wasn't fine. Being a guy, Evan had to be the leader of the couple, but he doesn't know what he's doing and there's so many people around and so many people he has to touch and Evan can feel his chest getting tighter and all he wants to do is escape. A couple minutes ago, another guy had come in and sat down, waiting to dance. As soon as Evan's position is close enough not to be crossing clear across the room and drawing unnecessary attention to himself, when the instructor calls for another partner change, he quickly escapes to the guy and more or less dumps his spot in the circle on him. He feels a little guilty, but for the most part all his mind can think of is getting out of there. Blinking back tears as he rushes down the hallway, Evan hardly slows down as he approaches the corner. Before he has time to react, there's a black pair of dance shoes right in front of Evan's grey tennis shoes. They collide and Evan falls down. "Oh my god I'm so sorry I wasn't watching where I was going I'm sorry I'll just—"
"Hey. Calm down." The other boy extends a hand to help Evan up. "You're fine, man. I wasn't paying much attention either. Are you okay?"
Evan nods, not meeting the taller boy's eyes. He studies the floor and the boy's legs, they're so long. How does he find jeans that fit so well? "I'm fine I'm sorry I bothered you I was just leaving."
"You're fine, kid. Stop apologizing. What's your name?" Evan stops studying the floor and looks up at the stranger's face. His cheekbones could cut glass.
"Um, I'm, uh, Evan Hansen." The way the other boy's hair frames his face makes Evan's breath catch, but in a good way this time as opposed to the usual clamp of panic on his windpipe.
"Connor Murphy. What dance are they doing this week?"
"Um, the foxtrot? I don't know if you've done it I mean you have dance shoes so you're probably pretty familiar I'm sorry I'll stop talking"
"Yeah, I've done the foxtrot. It's fun. Do you dance much, Hansen?"
"I used to? Dance a lot at least. But, um, ballet was always more my thing and there's a lot of people in there and I'm really not good at leading a partner oh my god why am I even telling you all of this you probably just want to get in there and dance and I'm holding you up I'm sorry."
"Hansen. Breathe. And stop apologizing. You're fine. Are all the couples full in there?"
"Yeah they're all evenly paired up. There's not a whole lot of extra space. The foxtrot moves a lot."
"Well, damn." Connor sighs and looks off in the direction of the dance room. "Sounds overrated. Whaddya say, Hansen? You up for a foxtrot in the hallway? I'll lead." Connor looks back at the boy in front of him, taking in the anxious blue-grey eyes. At Connor's question, the fidgeting of Evan's hands had stilled for the first time since they collided.
"Sure. That'd be fun." Evan cautiously places his backpack and water bottle against the wall, then rejoining Connor in the middle of the open hallway. Connor holds up his arms, and Evan places a quivering hand in Connor's outstretched hand, resting his other atop Connor's shoulder. Slow, slow, quick, quick. Slow, slow, quick, quick. Everything about this dance feels so much more natural than all the dances with the girls in the ballroom dance circle. Connor moves fluidly, and Evan follows without hesitation. He can feel every move Connor makes before he makes it. This is what the instructor had been talking about, the connection, the unspoken communication between partners. The overwhelming panic from before fades away as Evan focuses on Connor's touch, the slow, slow, quick, quick of their feet together. They dance this way, without music, without anyone around, until a loud crash from one of the other rooms brings the boys back to reality. Evan glances at his watch and sees that the scheduled open dance is supposed to be ending soon. "I should, probably be going now, thank you so much that was really fun."
"Yeah that was lit, man. Same place next week? I know quite a few. If you want, I can teach you so we don't have to go in there with all those twerps. Here, you got a cell phone? I'll give you my number." Evan digs an outdated, off brand cell phone out of his backpack and hands it to Connor. The lanky, long haired dancer quickly enters his number and returns the phone to its owner. With a nod, he turns and walks down the hallway. Evan takes a deep breath and hurries towards the exit, looking forward to next Friday far more than he could've imagined two hours ago.