.Dance.

hope you still feel small

when you stand by the ocean

whenever one door closes, i hope one more opens

promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

and when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

dance

i hope you dance

i hope you dance

No matter how much she seemed to grow. No matter how much the world shaped her and she changed. No matter how much her friends lifted her. And no matter how much she believed in herself. There was that part of Ellie that didn't dance.

She said it before, it was no secret. "I don't dance." And Jesse didn't want a girl who didn't dance. No one did apparently.

She remembered sitting back at parties, events, school dances and just watching. Always watching- and she loved the way that one girl moved like the beat pounded up from the floor boards and into her legs and heart. She wished she could be that girl- the one who danced. She always moved blonde hair whipping, hips swaying, green eyes flashing and flickering. But she had graduated and never knew the girls name and frankly, Ellie Nash preferred not to associate with people who danced.

Marco was always pushing her, "come on El, just dance with me." And she would follow him onto the floor and stand there nervously while Marco shifted his weight from foot to foot. Marco didn't really dance either, he never twirled or put his hands up and ran them through his hair- like the green eyed girl had done.

The song would end and Ellie would smile and push her way to get a drink or to talk or to be anywhere besides the clang of thrumming beats and hearts.

She'd walk upstairs to her room, close and lock the door and be done- read or something.

It was a common misconception that Eleanor Nash liked to listen to loud music- she supposed people assumed, what with her previous escapades as a drummer and her rocker girl style. And she loved music, she did, she felt like it made everything in life more bearable- like a soundtrack to her life that emphasized the highs and lows.

But she only liked it turned up to a certain level, one where she could clearly hear and be heard by the people around her. Because well, loud music scared her, she didn't like to be lost behind the lead guitar, or relax and let the base carry her. She like to be in control and to know what was going on around her. The green eyed girl lost in her movements and rhythms in her own little world awed Ellie and scared her.

She supposed this was why she never cut it as a drummer, she could never submit to the sounds and let them fade her surroundings. She could never cut lose and dance.

She thought maybe she was still insecure. Like when Marco told her he was gay and she thought briefly that it was because of her. That she was unattractive and ugly inside and out. Like when her dad shipped off and left or when her mother didn't stop drinking for her. Or when Sean picked his own drunken parents over her, or when Craig picked Manny, or when—

Jesse picked Paige. Because Paige, she danced.

Maybe her insecurities didn't want her to get lost in a rockers love song, they wanted her to stand and not make a spectacle of herself, they wanted her to fade. And suddenly she was back to why she didn't dance- she didn't want to fade into the music….she wanted to fade into the wall. No—that wasn't right, fading was exactly what terrified her, she didn't want to fade anywhere. But she was.

She glanced across the room at a boy slumped against the wall with a Clash t-shirt on. She pushed and stumbled through the crowd and grabbed his hand.

"Wanna Dance?"