LXVI
The kiss they share is chaste, soft. They separate just a few seconds later, and Mike's eyes have a special sparkle to them. Eleven smiles and lowers her head, not knowing how to react. The boy in front of her seems to be facing the same dilemma.
Then, they simply get closer, to the point where Eleven rests her head against his chest and he presses his lips against her hair.
During that slow sway, she takes a moment to look around the room: she sees Max and Lucas in a similar position to them, Dustin dancing with Mike's older sister, and Will barely trying to keep up with a girl she doesn't know.
It is the latter, however, who most attracts her attention, since he does not seem to be focused on his partner.
No—his eyes are fixed on her and Mike with an expression that she can't begin to decipher.
While the spiders walk all over his hands and Henry watches them affectionately, his mind returns to Eleven without him being able to help it.
Is she having fun? Is she dancing with that Mike kid? Henry remembers that in the discussion a few days ago he had questioned her about the boy's identity. I'll have to insist so she brings him home, he tells himself, and grimaces at the thought.
Ideally, he had always taken it for granted that he and Eleven would live their lives together, side by side, with no one else in between, with no one else even getting near them. Then he had to accept the very real possibility that Eleven wanted more relationships in her life.
And now… Now that is no longer a mere possibility.
And he hates it, he hates it, but what if she were to prioritize her new friends over him? He can even understand Max's case: she's also a girl, her interests are similar to Eleven's, there's a bond there that Henry can't—and isn't interested in trying to—emulate.
However… if she were to replace him with this Mike kid?
If he's honest with himself, the reason he hasn't told Eleven the truth—that he actually would have liked to go to that stupid dance with her, as it was the first such event in her life, impossible as it might have been—is that he's terrified that she might have turned him down.
That she might have turned him down for some kid, of all things.
When he goes to pick her up from dance, Henry notices Eleven is particularly quiet.
"How was it?" he asks as he puts the car in gear. "You had fun?"
"Yes."
Although Eleven has never been one for many words, if there is something that gets her going, it is precisely participating in some fun activity. And that terse answer doesn't seem to be in line with it.
"Is that so?" Henry says. "Aren't you too quiet for someone who's had fun?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the girl bite her bottom lip.
"I had fun," she says then. "But… I need to think. About… things. I'll tell you later," she promises.
Henry understands that she doesn't want to talk and therefore he must give her space.
"Alright," he agrees with feigned disinterest.
And he doesn't bring it up again.