The time for the Freshman Dance was approaching.

The boat was swaying ever so slightly, just enough to remind you that you weren’t on solid ground anymore. The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, and the whole vibe of the place was sort of surreal.

Music was playing in the background, not too loud yet, but you could feel it building up, gearing towards the climax of the night.

Groups of students were scattered around, some laughing, some already showing off their dance moves, and some just awkwardly standing, clutching their drinks and trying to look like they belonged.

And then there was me, Chance, standing amidst all of this, trying to take it all in. My mind was running a million miles an hour, and I couldn’t shake off this gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Excitement? Nervousness? Probably a bit of both.

Alright, Chance, you got this. Just breathe.

The boat party was supposed to be this big, fun thing, but all I could think about was how I was going to navigate through this minefield of social interactions.

And amidst all of this, there was this one question, nagging at the back of my mind…

Who am I going to ask to dance?

I mean, there was Payton.

Payton with her stunning looks and confident aura. Sure, we had our differences, and I couldn’t say I knew her all that well, but damn, she was really hot.

But then the fear crept in. The fear of rejection.

What if she says no?

What if she laughs in my face?

The boat, with all its grandeur and festivity, suddenly felt like it was closing in on me.

I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the nerves.

You know what, Chance? You're never going to know unless you try.

So, with a shaky exhale, I straightened up, adjusted my shirt, and made my way through the crowd, eyes set on Payton. It was now or never.

And I was going all in.

I navigated through the sea of dancing bodies, feeling my heart rate pick up with each step I took closer to Payton. She was standing near the edge of the boat, her hair gently blowing in the sea breeze, completely unaware that she was about to be ambushed by yours truly.

“Hey Payton,” I managed to say, my voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil inside.

She turned around, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.
“Oh, hey Chance. What’s up?”

I took a deep breath, trying to muster up as much confidence as I could.
“I was wondering if you’d like to dance with me at the party?”

For a moment, she just stared at me, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what she was thinking.

Does she think I’m joking?

Is she going to laugh in my face?

My mind was racing with all the possible ways this could go wrong.

But then, she broke into a smile, although it wasn’t quite the reaction I was hoping for.

“Dance with you?” she repeated, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Well, that depends. I already chose Brenton as my partner, so we can only dance together if we both make it to the finals.”

Wait, what? Finals?

My brain took a moment to catch up, and I could feel my eyes widening in confusion.

“The finals? What are you talking about?”

Payton laughed, shaking her head slightly as if she couldn’t believe I didn’t know.
“You really didn’t pay attention to the announcements, did you? It’s not just a dance party; it’s a gaming tournament. Generation Dance? You know, the VR dancing game? The finals are the last dance of the night, and only the top players get to dance. So, if you want to dance with me, you better bring your A-game.”

I felt like the floor had just been yanked out from under me. I was completely out of my depth here. My experience with dancing games was practically nonexistent, and the last time I tried one, it ended in disaster.

I plastered on a smile, trying to play it cool.

“Oh, right. Generation Dance. Yeah, of course. Bring it on.”

But inside, I was freaking out. This was not how I expected my night to go. Not at all.

I’ve always thought dancing games were kind of ridiculous. I mean, who needs a game to tell them how to dance? Just move to the rhythm and you’re golden, right? Well, at least that’s what I thought until I actually tried one.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was at this old, run-down mall, the kind that smelled like stale popcorn and disappointment. They had this arcade tucked away in a corner, and there it was – a dancing game, all lit up and begging for attention.

Why not? How hard could it be?

I stepped up, inserted my coins, and selected a song. I was feeling pretty confident, ready to show off my... well, I wouldn't call them moves, but I could at least keep a beat.

And then the music started.

I don’t know if it was the pressure of the arcade lights or the fact that I had an audience of bored teenagers watching, but I completely froze. My feet wouldn’t move, my body wouldn’t cooperate, and I just stood there like a deer in headlights.

But then, in a moment of misguided bravery, I decided to just go for it.

How bad could it be?

Bad. It could be very, very bad.

I started flailing around, completely off-beat, missing every single step. I tripped over my own feet, stumbled, and somehow managed to hit the emergency stop button on the machine. The music screeched to a halt, the screen went black, and the entire arcade was plunged into silence.

And then, as if the universe hadn’t had enough fun at my expense, the silence was broken by the sound of laughter. Not just any laughter, but the kind of laughter that makes your face turn beet red and your pride shrivel up and die.

I was mortified.

But wait, it gets better.

In my haste to escape the judgmental eyes of my audience, I turned around, slipped on a discarded soda cup, and crashed right into a claw machine, setting off a chain reaction of chaos.

The machine wobbled, tipped, and then crashed onto the adjacent air hockey table, sending pucks flying in every direction. One of them hit a kid’s ice cream cone, launching it into the air and straight onto the head of the mall security guard.

It was like a scene straight out of a slapstick comedy, except I was the unfortunate star of the show.

So yeah, dancing games and I? We have a complicated history. And now, here I am, on a boat, with my chances of getting a date hanging in the balance, all because of a stupid dancing game.

Bleu, on the other hand, was like a hurricane of excitement. She was practically vibrating with energy, her eyes lit up like she’d just won the lottery. “This is going to be so much fun! I’ve been practicing my dance moves for weeks,” she exclaimed, demonstrating a quick shuffle-step that nearly knocked over a nearby chair.

She was competitive, that much was clear. She wanted to win this dance-off, and she was ready to throw down with the best of them. “You guys better watch out. I’m bringing my A-game!” she declared, pointing at me and the rest of our classmates with a mischievous glint in her eye.

But for all her enthusiasm and competitive spirit, Bleu was also a bit absent-minded. She’d get so caught up in the moment, so lost in her excitement, that she’d forget the little things. Like her drink, which she’d left on the railing of the boat and which was now slowly inching its way towards the edge.

“Uh, Bleu? Your drink,” I pointed out, just in time for her to grab it before it took a dive into the ocean.

“Oh, whoops! Thanks, Chance!” she laughed, a bit sheepishly.

I couldn’t help but smile. Bleu was a force of nature, and being around her was like riding a rollercoaster – thrilling, a bit scary, but ultimately a blast.

But as much as I enjoyed her company, I couldn’t shake the nervous knot in my stomach. The dance-off, the competition, it was all getting to me. And then there were these feelings I had for Bleu.

I liked her, that much was obvious. But what did that mean? Was it just a fleeting crush, or was it something more? And did she feel the same way?

I had no answers, just a head full of questions and a heart that was starting to beat a little too fast.

As the boat rocked gently on the waves, and the lights of the party twinkled in the background, I realized that this was going to be a night to remember. For better or for worse, things were about to get interesting.