Summary: She dances to the beat of her heart. With the music flowing through her. And no one else, it seems, can match her rhythm.
Imelda never listened. She was proud and defiantly independent, despite her father's attempts to keep her home and safe. Sneaking out of windows and around Santa Cecilia, finding places she could sing and dance without worrying about who watched.
When she sang her voice carried over the music and silenced the band. When she danced the flourish of her skirts and quick, light steps moved people away until she was alone in a circle of admirers.
But then one night it changed. It was the middle of summer, the air warm and muggy. When she sang, one guitar continued to play, pecking out the harmony to her melody. When she danced someone dared to come closer, to move with her steps and match her movements.
She cast a short look at this intruder. A hopeful grin. Golden tooth winking at her. Dimple denting his left cheek. Wide brown eyes that were filled with light and joy and awe. Thick black hair matching a neat goatee. Tall, thin and gangly. All long limbs held together in exaggerated angles. He held a white guitar, carefully decorated by hand, and was comfortably finding the notes to match her song.
Amused, she stepped up the pace of her words and her feet. Watched with an unfamiliar pleasure as he matched her effortlessly, his grin widening. Then he started to sing too, and his voice was in perfect harmony. He didn't know the song. Not really. He sang nonsense syllables, almost but not quite forming words. And she was too delighted to care.
With a final flourish they both threw up their hands, him holding his guitar in a firm grip. Silence fell. So heavy it seemed to stop her breath. To freeze her in place. His eyes pinned her to the spot, not leaving hers for a second, seeming to pierce right into her soul.
He lowered his arms first. Cradled his guitar in one.
"Héctor," he said, holding out one hand. That gold tooth winked at her again. His grin sat comfortably on his face. It fit his sharp cheekbones and pointed chin. Made warmth blossom in her chest and pool in her stomach.
"Imelda," she replied. Supplied a firm handshake that seemed to throw him off guard.
"You have a beautiful voice," he said, and the light dancing in his eyes matched the fluttering of her heart.
"You're not bad yourself." She shifted, the weight of her skirts seeming to pull her down. It was almost as though her knees were weak.
"W-would you like to dance again?" he asked. Had that been a stutter? From this awkward gangly man who had moved with such grace just a few short moments ago? It was almost...endearing?
But Imelda never listened. Not to her father, not to her gut. Trying to silence the butterflies in her stomach and the nervous tittering of her heart, she shook her head and flipped her skirts.
The grin fell away. He lowered his face and clutched his guitar closer to him. She found herself oddly upset by this. By the loss of that gold tooth and the easy creases beside his eyes. Determined to not pander to this silliness she turned on her heel and stalked away. Through the circle of silent watchers and through the dark streets. Blaming her flushed cheeks on the balmy summer night.
Months passed. She never quite forgot about Héctor. His smile with that golden tooth, his eyes that danced and shone with the music they made together. She continued to sneak out, continued to dance and sing. She waited for him to join her. For the guitar and the duet and the dancing. But he never did. He never showed.
Eventually other men plucked up the courage to join her. She found herself suddenly surrounded by people. Trying to dance with her. Attempting to join her songs. Their steps were always slightly too slow or too fast. Their voices either drowned out hers completely or were nothing but a whisper beside her. None of them fit with her rhythm. It was infuriating. Maddening. The harder she tried to push them away the more persistent they became.
Finally she could take it no more. She stayed home. Under her father's watchful eye. Ignoring the suitors that came calling. Trying to ignore the beat her heart hammered against her ribcage.
One night she leaned beside her window, looking up at the stars. She hummed softly to herself. A random series of notes. Stitching them together at random. The suggestion of a melody. Bare bones that she could build up into a song if she so wished.
As the notes floated on the cool night air, her chin rested heavily on her palm and her eyes idly traced constellations. Her heart continued to pitter-patter in her chest, providing the beat for the tune.
She didn't notice the guitar at first. The gentle plinking notes that drifted up and joined her humming, first matching her melody then harmonising with it as the chords developed. When she did finally notice she jolted, stopped singing and stared down at the street. A wink of gold. Thick dark hair. Brown eyes glinting with mischief.
"Hello again," he called up to her. There was laughter in his voice and her heart started that silly fluttering again. His fingers moved deftly on the frets of his guitar, shaping the song which minutes before had been only a half-thought melody in her mind.
"Hello." Her eyes narrowed and a suspicious frown pursed her lips. "What are you doing here?"
"I was wondering if I could get that dance?" A little flourish of notes, pulling at her heartstrings. "It's been too long, señorita."
She could hear her father below, calling out to her to close her window. Telling her to come down and away from the strange young man in the street.
But Imelda didn't listen.
She crept through her window. Slid down the tiled roof and landed gracefully on the ground. Though Héctor's eyes grew wide and his smile shy, his hands never hesitated. The music flowed around her, pulling her closer. Her heart beat in time to his chords. Her feet moved automatically. She sang nonsense sounds that were almost, but not quite, words.
He played. She sang. They danced. In perfect rhythm.