Beyond the Point(39)

“You’re quiet,” he said.

“Sorry,” she answered. “I was just wondering. Do you think you’ll try and find your birth parents someday?”

He shrugged. “I doubt it. I had a great family growing up. If I wonder about anything, it’s what it would have been like to grow up on the West Coast. I feel like there’s this surfer in me just dying to break out. But that’s enough about me. What about you?”

“Hm.” Hannah thought. Compared to his story, nothing about her seemed all that interesting. “I grew up in Texas. My grandfather went to West Point.”

“Is that why you came?”

“No. Actually he didn’t want me to come.”

“But you came anyway.”

Hannah smiled. “I came anyway.”

“Good for you,” he said, then asked with excitement, “Hey, what did you get for the summer?”

West Point had just handed out summer assignments. Hannah would only get one week at home, before reporting for Airborne School at Fort Benning, Georgia. After that, she’d return to West Point and lead plebes through basic training.

“I’ve got Airborne School. Then Beast Two. I get to walk plebes through the House of Tears.”

“You ever jumped out of a plane?”

“Not yet,” Hannah admitted. “But I’ve seen you do it. At the football games.”

He smiled broadly. “You’re going to love it. It’s terrifying. But the rush you get is incredible. Like you’re flying.”

“Are you ever afraid?”

Someone inside the ballroom clapped their hands loudly, so rather than answer her question, Tim offered her the crook of his arm.

“Believe it or not, I’m more afraid of what we’re about to do in there.”

She’d never been drunk before, but Hannah was certain this must be what it felt like. Warmth passed from his body to hers and she tried not to think too much about it. If she did, her hands might start sweating.

Cullum Hall boasted cherry floors and warm wooden beams that rose all the way to the ceiling. The ballroom looked almost candlelit, with sconces glowing against the wood and portraits of famous generals spaced evenly along the walls, like they were spying on the future. The parquet dance floor filled with cadets—upperclassmen laughed and whispered at the back of the hall—while Yuks like Tim and Hannah ventured toward the front. The instructor, a short, burly-looking man with a singsongy voice, clapped his hands, gathering the attention of the room.

“Okay, people!” he shouted over the din of voices. “Who’s ready?”

There was a lackluster hoot from around the hall.

“All right, fine! Act cool now. I’ll have you spinning like teacups at Disneyland before the end of the night.”

The instructor pointed toward the back, where a woman wearing loud pink lipstick turned a dial. Suddenly the room filled with the sounds of classical instruments. The instructor looked annoyed, then pumped his thumb in a downward motion, telling the woman to decrease the volume, which she promptly did.

“The waltz . . . ,” bellowed the instructor as he pranced through the room, making eye contact with each pair of dancers, “is about forbidden romance.”

The students giggled.

“Laugh all you want, but it’s true. If you’re uninterested in seducing your dance partner, I’d suggest you leave. Perhaps there are shoes that need shining back in the barracks.”

More laughter. But at this point, Hannah knew, he’d gained the respect of the room.

“That’s what I thought.” The instructor bellowed over the soft hum of violins. “The waltz was the predecessor of rock and roll, if you will. Just imagine!” he gasped dramatically. “Men and women twirling on the dance floor so close together and so fast! How vulgar! How positively sinful! In those days, men and women weren’t even allowed in the same room together unchaperoned—”

“Sounds familiar!” a male voice behind Hannah shouted. It was Locke. Dani smacked him with her hand. The laughter in the room sounded like the ocean, coming in regular waves.

“Well then, I guess you don’t have to imagine.” The instructor grinned. “For the Austrians, the waltz was this sensual break from oppressive aristocratic rules . . . in three-quarter time. Now, each pair find a square!”

Tim and Hannah realized they were standing on top of a white square, which had been taped to the floor before their arrival. The instructor stopped just in front of them.

“Now, men, wrap your right arm around your partner’s back and give her a nice squeeze.”

Tim slipped his right hand between Hannah’s hip and arm, and pulled her in tight. Their bodies were so close, she could feel him breathing. His breath smelled minty, but as she’d expected, the rest of his body smelled like spice and cologne.

“Now, turn your faces to the left, and stand cheek to cheek.”

For a moment, Hannah felt a magnetism pull her closer and she thought she might collapse into him if she didn’t concentrate on holding herself upright. When the instructor glided away from them, they both broke the pose. Around the room, laughter spread until most couples had stepped away from each other.

“Not easy, is it?” the instructor said. “I’ve always said if we could harness sexual tension at the United States Military Academy we could power New York City for a century. Am I right?”