Saying Goodbye (What the World Doesn't Know) by Mahima Martel

lit a cigarette and took a drag. “You were very good and very pretty,” he said. “Didn’t you win an award for that show?”
                Frankie’s eyes widened, shocked. “Most Promising Newcomer,” she said. “I haven’t actually done anything yet; apparently I just have promise.”
                “You will,” Alex said, taking a drag on his cigarette. Normally girls were falling all over him and his words; with Frankie he didn’t know what to say or do.
                “Do you want to dance,” asked Frankie, “or would you prefer to just stand here?”
                Alex laughed and said, “I guess I would prefer to dance.” He held his hand out to her. She grasped it and allowed him to guide her into the crowd of dancers.
                “Johnny B. Goode” was spinning on the record player as Alex found an open space on the dance floor and turned to face Frankie. Frankie had always felt confident dancing before strangers—it was her best method of self-expression—but standing before Alex, she couldn’t help feeling like a novice with two left feet. Looking at Alex, she noticed he was feeling the same way. She saw him move much better in performances; now, he looked as awkward as she felt.
                “Loosen up a little bit,” she said, playfully punching his chest.
                Alex grabbed Frankie around her waist and moved a little faster to the music.
                “See? There it is. I knew it—you have a dancer’s soul,” she said.
                “Yeah, I was thinking I should give up the gee-tar and take up the ba-LET,” he said, gazing down at her. “What do you think?”
                Frankie laughed and answered, “It would be interesting to see you in a tutu.”
                “I never show a girl my tutu on the first date,” he responded, roughly spinning her around.
                Frankie spun around fast and then purposely slammed hard up against him. “Somehow I doubt that. I think you and your tutu have made quite a few debut performances.”
                As Alex began dancing slower, feelings ran through Frankie’s body that she wasn’t quite ready for. She had just met him not ten minutes ago, so to offer any suggestions would be rather dangerous. The moment was a little too intense in a room full of dancing, sweaty bodies. She pulled back from him a bit to give herself some distance. As soon as she did, the lights in the room went out, and everyone was left in darkness.
                Hoots and hollers erupted from the darkness as “Under the Boardwalk” by the Drifters began to play. Alex pulled Frankie closer to him and held her tightly, just short of pressing too far. Alex had the play down to a science. He instinctively knew the exact limit to stir Frankie up without scaring her away. Frankie had experienced everything from men who couldn’t entice any sensation, to those who pushed and pressed to the point of near disgust. She sensed Alex knew the perfect combination and didn’t resist.
                Alex leaned toward Frankie as if to kiss her and whispered, “Do yeh want to get out of here?”
                Frankie looked up at him. “Where do you want to go?” she asked.
                “Outside,” he said. “It’s getting too hot in here.”
                “All right,” said Frankie.
                Frankie followed Alex away from the crowd and through a sliding door which led to the patio. The air felt cool against Frankie’s sweaty skin, and there was definitely romance in the air—palm trees swayed against the starry sky and the brilliant full moon hung low in the sky. Alex and Frankie stood awkwardly alongside each other, both staring at the sky.
                “What shall we do?” asked Frankie, breaking the