Broomstick Dance Novels & Stories

The lead dancer, a tall brunette with a sway-like liquid, started the rhythm with a clap, and the others followed, their bodies twisting and spinning in sync. The dance was meant to distract me, to pull me out of this mess. I slumped into a wooden chair someone had dragged up, cigar in one hand, the other resting on my knee as I watched. Their movements were graceful, hypnotic even—arms arching like willow branches, hips rolling with the precision of a heartbeat. The torchlight painted their skin in flickers of gold and shadow, and for a fleeting second, I almost forgot the chaos gnawing at me.

Crystal said, “What if she’s some sort of undead?” “I don’t know...” Walker shook his head, “Get back to Dante as soon as possible. They’re going to start the dance soon.” The dance—almost like an insane version of musical chairs. A person danced and danced with different people for a duration of a song—typically about five minutes—and then, somehow, whoever they’re standing in front of when the song ends is who their mate is. “It’s almost time..” Walker whispered as Jadis and a few of the other witches zeroed in on the elders who were still seated and emotionless at their table on the stage—none of them masked, but they were in their gaudy robes.

she said as they sat back down on the chairs. “And who’s your type of guy?” Christopher asked curiously. He raised his eyebrows, awaiting an answer. “Well, I like...” “What are you guys doing here? Come on, let’s dance!” Daisy said, pulling them both back to the dance floor. They put on soft country music. Christopher put his hand on Palmer’s waist while the other hand took hers. They swayed, not taking their eyes off each other. Palmer put her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her while the music played, making them enjoy every second.

Robin tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear while talking to her. "I didn't know that I would be able to join it. It just happened." Iris replied shyly watching him in such dim lights standing near the dance floor. "So, Miss Queen.... May I?" Robin dramatically extended his hand mocking a situation from a romantic movie to ask her for a dance. Dropping the glass of juice on the counter she took his hand and forwarded her leg to accept that invitation. "Of course..." She smiled and held his hand to reach the floor. The music started and Robin put his hand around her waist to make her match the steps.

Jimmy held her hands and winked at her to do the gentleman dance with him. "But I cannot dance it." She said, moving her body in unison to his'. "Your punishment, so that you may be careful with your choice of words next time." He said. They needed no invitation; the orderly and well-mannered students of Reekfield's college stood up and walked elegantly to the large stage, some down the stage, each dancing with a partner - which was of the opposite sex - extremely careful not to spill over, the drinks or food which were on the 'for-four' tables.

Davis and Casey are basically dry humping on the dance floor, while Brooke and Shay dance together and Boyd and Connor bop on the periphery. Brooke catches sight of us and waves us over, and the four of us girls form a little circle to dance with one another. I start swaying my hips to the music, careful to hold my drink steady so I don’t spill it all over myself as I dance. I feel Judd’s presence behind me as he slides a hand onto my hip, trying to dance with me. Brooke and I lock eyes and she tilts her head questioningly, her gaze darting from Judd to me. I just shrug, lifting my glass and taking a sip of my drink. I guess there’s no harm in sharing a dance with the guy.

he said, making Brienne's heart race. "Then why don’t you dance with me?" she asked, pouting like a kid denied her favorite treat. "Because, babygirl, you're drunk," he replied, his tone gentle but firm. "My name isn’t babygirl; I’m Bree," she said in a singsong voice, making the man chuckle. "Okay, Bree. I’ll dance with you," he said and guided her to the dance floor. The song changed to a romantic slow tune, and everyone around them seemed wrapped up in their own little world. Bree wrapped her arms around the man’s neck and leaned against his chest.

It was a way for them to find each other. "I think it makes perfect sense," Brock said as they walked down an aisle. "But you don't have to give up dancing. I'm fond of it myself." He shot her a cocksure grin. "I'll even teach you cèilidh dancing." She looked up at him, wanting to ask a question that had been on her mind since they had danced over a week ago. "How did you become such a good dancer?" His lips twitched. "Shocked to find a barbarian Scot has more skill than those English popinjays?"

I swear to god I’m about to burst out laughing in their faces if they blush even a shade darker. My brother sputters, incoherent words spilling out of his mouth, but before a refusal or excuse slips out, I slap his shoulder encouragingly. “Come on, bro.” He turns to look at Bru at that, who’s suddenly staring at her bow heels like they’re the most interesting thing in the world. I clear my throat exaggeratedly, and she looks up at me. And finally, finally, my brother mans up. “Do you, uh, do you want to… dance… with me?”

We sit at a table by the window and order cocktails that are too sweet and too strong and the warmth from the dance floor hasn’t left my skin yet. “I can’t believe she told you about the broom,” I say. “I can’t believe you count out loud to it.” “It helps with the rhythm.” “The broom doesn’t need rhythm, Emily. It’s a broom.” I kick him under the table. Not hard. He absorbs it without flinching, which is irritating, and his mouth does the curve, that almost, that almost-smile he keeps failing to put away around me and I’m grinning into my glass and the cocktail is warm and his knee is touching mine under the table and neither of us is moving it.