Alvin could not waltz gracefully and talk at the same time and he hoped Miss Thompsett did not hold it against him. He was counting in his head, trying not to get too distracted by that look she was giving him. She was effortlessly making him look more capable than he was, easy to lead though she was really a step ahead of him the entire time.

He was suddenly struck by the fact that she was indeed no longer his little sister's close friend, a graduate, a debutante, and this dance could be viewed many ways. Alvin replayed some of their conversations in his head and how he'd seen her as stubborn, but perhaps it was more of her trying to find her adult voice. He remembered the transition all too well, trying to outgrow childish attachments and sentiments, but hardly being old enough to do so. Perhaps it was because he was given more time, as a man, to figure himself out. Tonight's debutantes were expected to have it all figured out this season; he was still figuring it out at seven and twenty.

Keeping a neutral-to-pleased expression, Alvin kept himself from getting too lost in his thoughts, instead focusing on the steps and the gentle pressure of his hand at her back and her hand in his. He couldn't think too much; he couldn't think too little and he was glad the music seemed to be coming to a close because he was struggling to do either and keep his rhythm and feet moving accordingly.