The Barn Dance

I figured a barn dance was like prom, but for cowboys. Unfortunately, my imagination wasn't far from reality.

Everyone in this old barn is dressed like Joe Buck from Midnight Cowboy or Woody from Toy Story. But, at least my crewneck and skinny jeans made me stand out.

The barn smell reminds me of the pumpkin patch field trips I used to go on in the first grade. String lights hang from the top of the barn like tiny street lights reflecting a flammeous glow off my empty red solo cup.

Country music is piercing through the speakers as people square dance and do the do-si-do. I like to believe country music is on the CIA's torture playlist when interrogating terrorists. I don't hate this music, but it's not Janet Jackson or Mariah Carey.

I agreed to come to this barn dance because I saw it as an opportunity with Steve. Steve is a tall and lanky frat boy with short, messy hair, so every Instagram picture looks like he just woke up. We met on quad day. His fraternity Omega Tau Omega had a science fair-style booth set up to recruit new members. I find the whole "love at first sight" trope about as fake as the moon landing, but I can admit that I was somewhat smitten after one glance at Steve.

I don't have any intentions of joining Omega Tau Omega. Modern Greek life isn't for me. Being confined in a house with a bunch of broad-shouldered men sounds excellent, but I don't like drinking, and the stench of beer alone makes me gag. Ancient Greek life would have been more my cup of tea. Back then, everyone could be Lil Nas X and have sex in their chlamys and sandals without being judged.

I shouldn't even be out right now. My advisor wants me to declare a college major. When I first got the letter from Stonewall University, I didn't even know if I wanted to go to college. Then before I knew it, I was hanging up Basquiat posters in my dorm room, and now I'm in my sophomore year. I thought I'd have things figured out by now, but I feel like I've taken every gen ed class in the course catalog, and I still don't know what I want to do. It feels like I'm stuck in a maze, and I don't know which path to choose.

A group of drunk people stumbles into the barn like Black Friday shoppers. Along with them comes a gust of wind that blows my solo cup on the ground. I didn't plan on drinking tonight anyway.

Steve is nowhere to be found. I can text him, but I don't want to be weird or make anything obvious. I don't know what I expected, for Steve to show up with his hair blowing in the wind and for everything to be in slow motion while Etta James's At Last plays in my head. I knew I shouldn't have wasted my Hugo Boss cologne.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and am taken aback. It's a clean-shaven man wearing a cowboy hat smiling at me. I've never seen him on campus.

"Hi, my name is Scott. Would you like to dance?" He removes his cowboy hat to reveal his slicked hair that resembles a curling ocean wave.

"Oh, I don't even know how to dance to this music." I tug on my collar to get some air.

"You don't like Luke Combs?" Scott appears confused, like I'm speaking Klingon.

"I like Sean Combs."

Scott bursts out laughing as the spurs on the back of his cowboy boots spin around with each footstep like watermills.

"Come on. I'll teach you."

"I don't know about that. I might embarrass you." This has to be some setup. Why would a guy that looks like this even talk to me? Bitch! Just dance with him. Steve is not even here, and he's hot! Okay, okay "Maybe one quick dance, but you have to show me the moves."

"No problem." Scott grabs me by the hand.

We maneuver past a crowd of flannels and blue jeans. I can feel all the eyes in the barn following us to the dance floor. Scott doesn't seem to notice, or maybe he doesn't care. I admire that about him.

I can't help but notice I'm the only black guy here. I'm not surprised. It's been that way throughout most of college. Every lecture hall was predominantly white faces sprinkled with a few brown faces, but none were black. Yet, even after all that, I've never felt more aware of my blackness than at this moment.

Scott finally turns around and faces me. It feels like he is looking straight through me and not at me. Everyone else forms a circle with their dance partner standing in front of them. Scott lifts his hands, and I mimic him. The music starts, and Scott grasps my hands as we both step from side to side. It sort of feels like the white people's version of the cha-cha slide. Then, out of nowhere, Scott spins me around like a Disney princess, and we both laugh. I can't help but feel warm inside. We lock arms and skip around as the woman on the speaker sings about feeling like a woman. "Hey, who sings this?"

"Shania Twain!" Scott stops mid-dance and leans over. His neck smells like a mix of beer and sweat, but I don't care.

"I kind of like this song!"

"Not bad right, I thought you didn't know how to dance to this music?"

"I never said I didn't have rhythm."

We kept dancing for what felt like hours. My back was drenched, and my Chuck Taylor's were covered in dirt. I couldn't help but smile. It was as though Scott and I were by ourselves in this barn as if this was our own private event. For a second, I wanted to kiss him, but that'd be impulsive, and I didn't want to ruin this moment. Our hands remained locked together even after the music stopped. He let go first, and we both exhaled.

"Would you like a drink?" He asks as he fanned himself with his cowboy hat. "All that dancing made me thirsty."

"Yeah, I could go for a drink."

Scott reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a flask. He leans his head back as he takes a swig, then he hands it to me.

I sniff the top of the flask and want to gag. Gazing back over at Scott, he starts to unbutton the top of his shirt, revealing some chest hair. Without hesitation, I gulp whatever liquid is inside of it, spilling some on my clothes.

"Whoa, slow down there." Scott pats me on the shoulder.

"Sorry."

We find some folding chairs in the corner of the barn and sit down. We pass the flask between each other as the cold October air blows onto the back of my neck. More people are coming into the barn.

Scott is from a small town called Sherfield with a population of two thousand. He is a freshman majoring in computer engineering. I didn't want to mention that I'm undeclared, so I lie and say that I'm an environmental science major. I try to repeat everything I've heard on An Inconvenient Truth, followed by something Captain Planet might say. Scott didn't question anything, so I just kept going.

I feel like I've known Scott for my entire life. Every time the conversation slowed down, he would go to the next topic, and I would follow right along. I've never felt this with anyone. "Did you come here by yourself?"

"Yeah. I came here looking for someone, but I don't think he's showing up."

"Same, but I guess we found each other, so it all worked out." I place my hand on Scott's knee, and time seems to slow down.

Suddenly, Scott begins to lean forward, but I'm frozen. Maybe he's tired. Wait, oh shit, he's leaning in for a kiss. Oh crap, what should I do? Kiss him, you idiot! Before I could hesitate any longer, Scott's lips were pressed against mine, and his rough hands rubbed the back of my neck. This might be the greatest night of my life.

"Scott, what the hell are you doing?" screams a voice.

Steve is standing over us with watery eyes. His usual unkempt hair is actually slicked down and groomed.

"Baby, I thought you stood me up," Steve replies.

"What's happening right now?" I looked from Steve to Scott, and all the pieces of the puzzle formed themselves. "Are you together?"

Cocking his hand back, Steve's arm swings across my face. The slap itself doesn't hurt, but everyone else in the barn watching the disaster is embarrassing enough to hurt. The music stopped, and the only sound was Scott's subdued voice trying to plead with Steve.

Instead of sticking around, I bolt past Scott and Steve, past the crowd of strangers, until I finally collide with the barn doors.

Behind me, the barn doors open. It's Scott. I run away even faster. He yells my name, but I don't stop running. Sprinting into a nearby cornfield, I hope he won't follow me. After a while, the only thing I could hear was my heavy breaths.

The aroma of fertilizer makes me sneeze, and my eyes become even more watery. It was bad enough I was already crying.

I should have known. It all felt too perfect. I meet a guy, and he does what all men do – lie. I'm never going out again. I should have just stayed in my dorm. I'm such an idiot. I'm never going to figure this shit out.

Stopping, I realize I've been walking for almost thirty minutes in this cornfield. I feel like I'm lost in a maze. Fuck, what if this is a corn maze? I can't even see the barn anymore. My heart is starting to beat faster. The worst thing that can happen is I die of starvation or get shanked by a little kid from Children of the Corn. Pulling out my phone, my battery is at about ten percent. Maybe I should call the cops, but how will they find me? Just breathe. Just breathe. You can figure this out. Just keep walking.

I turn my phone off to save battery. My best option is to keep walking until I find a path. My hands feel dry as I continue to push through the corn stalk. Some of the stems scratch my face, but I'm too cold to feel any cuts. The moon is perched in the sky like a giant golf ball.

If I get out of this cornfield, I will sit down and finally choose a major, even if it's the wrong one. I don't care. I want to feel grounded in something. I'm tired of not knowing what I want my future to be. I'm young, which means I have time to make mistakes and learn from them, just like tonight. If I can find my way through this fucking cornfield, I can find my way through college.

It felt like I was walking in circles. I've probably created my own crop circle with how much corn stalk I pushed out of my way.

Ahead was a large gap. Sprinting forward, I let out a sigh of relief as my feet stepped across the paved road. Pulling out my phone, I dial SafeRides to pick me up. They tell me they're twenty minutes out. The old barn is visible now.

I fucking hate barn dances.