I think I misguided you in the fact that Steven Lee Kinnison and I, the gorgeous, amazing, etc., Mormon boy and I didn't not exactly get married and have wonderful Mormon babies in the slightest. It's sort of like how an ant sees a human as a monstrosity, and a human sees the Eiffel Tower as huge, and a whale sees the ocean as the world. What happened this night between us, was a simple, small twist of fate, and it wasn't really that important to the eternal scheme of things. I am a teenager, to be frank, and these small pleasures make up my universe, naturally.

So, he entered the room, and quickly became a planet in orbit in my little solar system. He walked past, with his buddy looking adorably confused. I motioned speedily to Andrew, pointing him out after he walked past.

Time passed, however much too slowly came the slow dance song I was waiting for. He stood mid-floor, like he was waiting for something. Could he be waiting for something like... me, perchance? He walked a bit to the left of the gym, hands in pockets. I subtly walked past, giving him the chance, the opportunity to ask me, and stood behind the wallflower chairs. He didn't, and instead asked a girl I know to be called Michelle Thompson, although I do not know her personally, and I pray to God she's just a friend. I walked to the wallflower tables, and sat sort of perturbed at the fact that I wasn't going to get him to ask me easily, and I'd be better off just asking him.

So, I fast danced a bit when the opportunity arose, and waited in the shadows, dancing the Thriller while waiting. (I was the only one that really knew it, which was a disturbing fact.)

A new slow song came on, and practically jumped at the chance to ask that boy to dance. Actually, it was more like a fast jog to him, before some other girl saw him. I slowed once I got to him, and sort of touched him on the arm.The moment arrived, and I smiled.

"Would you care to dance?"

Steven Lee Kinnison turned to me. "Um... yeah!" He wasn't exactly jumping for joy or anything, but you know. I could deal. The fact that he didn't throw a 'Shiloh Elizabeth Beazel is dancing with me!' party didn't make a difference, because in my mind they were breaking out the streamers, balloons and noisemakers.

We attempted the whole dancing format, but for some reason, my subconscious wanted me to put my hands around his waist, and his hands on my shoulders, when generally, it's visa-versa. We laughed it off, and started 'dancing'. We were pretty good for teenage slow dancing, actually. He wasn't one of those lazy guys that made you hold up their arm the whole time you were dancing, a plus on the super gorgeous singing acting thing. (Dancing with a guy that has no form is horrid.)

The awkward conversation commenced. "What's your name?" He said, with a gorgeous smile. Not that I could see very easily, he's probably taller than Joe, who is 6'1", (who I dance with frequently, cuz that's how our siblingship goes,) and the lights from the dj shone behind him.

"Um, Shiloh," I shouted, over the chatter and the song. "I already know your name, because, well, the whole 'Joseph' thing." Which I realized shortly after saying, sounded sort of stalkerish. He gave me a confused look.

"I wasn't in that, you have the wrong guy." My heart stopped, and I nearly tripped over backwards. I stopped dancing, and he must've seen my shock and puzzlement, because he laughed and said, "I'm kidding, I swear." I laughed nervously, and continued dancing with him.

"So, how old are you?" My heart stopped. No, no, no, not that question, not the question that always makes sure that I never get a second dance.

"Uh... almost fifteen." Then what I said next made me want to shoot myself. "I say it like that, see, so it sound better... Yeah, I'm fourteen." He seemed sort of distant after that. We didn't talk for a minute, till I decided to make it more awkward. "Y'know, I hate it when you dance with someone and then you barely talk. Isn't that awkward?"

He laughed and said, "Yeah." And then we barely talked after that. He smiled and said, "I love this song. Do you know it?" I shook my head. I'm not one for more modern music, except what I have to hear, or y' know, Adam Lambert 'n stuff. "I'm really resisting the urge to sing to it right now. I just don't want to seem egotisical..."

I was far too insistant. "No, go ahead. You have a rather enjoyable voice."

He cocked his head to the side. "How do you kn- oh. Okay. The Joseph thing." He was quiet for a minute. "... You really wouldn't mind?"

I was in a daze. "No, not at all!" I insisted fervently. "Please, go ahead."

"Well, ...I only knew the beginning, anyway. It's alright." He was quiet for a minute, and something must've been going on in that wonderful, beautiful head, because a moment later, he started singing.

I wish for the life of me that I could figure out what song it was, because whatever song it was was all degrees of romantic to me. It was talking about how the singer loved someone more than anything, and how beautiful that someone was. It was amazing, and he was singing it in my presence. And he did a wonderful job having not warm up. I could've married him right there.

The song that I wish was never-ending, ended. I said, "Well, it's nice to meet you."

He grinned, and said, "It was a pleasure," and bowed, which I found amazing and chiviarious.

And that was that. It was just a regular dance, just a regular evening. But it was an evening I'll never forget and a dance I'll treasure even when I'm an old woman with boobs down to my waist and grandchildren up to my waist.

The end.