Brad was not much of a dancer. In fact, he didnt dance at all. But he held Myla on a couple of the early slow songs, swayed back and forth and faked it. When the tempo picked up, he went to get them both drinks. He grinned at Ed, standing alone by the drink table and nursing a cup of punch. Having fun? Tons. You can still go home. Youd like that, wouldnt you? Ed shook his head. Ill never cave in to public pressure. Masochist. With a salute of his cup, Brad returned to the edge of the dance floor, where Myla was talking to Reba and Cindy and their dates. The last thing he wanted to do right now was socialize with those two snots, but he put on his best fake smile and handed Myla her drink. How goes it, all? Either Myla sensed his true feelings or she was looking for a way out herself, because she took a sip of her drink, put a hand on his arm and said, I want to get our picture taken. Okay, he said. He nodded a quick good-bye to the rest of the group, and the two of them headed toward the rear of the gym where a photographer had set up shop behind a curtained partition.
