**Dance with Me**
Alice had caught George’s eye the moment she joined their office. A slender blonde with striking hazel eyes, she stood out effortlessly. The women in the office, however, were divided—some insisted her hair was dyed, claiming natural blondes never had hazel eyes. Others swore she wore coloured contacts. Yet weeks passed, and her hair stayed the same shade. Occasionally, she wore glasses, which only deepened the mystery—why glasses if she had contacts?
Then there was Charlie, the office charmer. Unlike shy George, Charlie wasted no time pursuing Alice—lunch invites, coffees delivered to her desk, even offering her lifts home. Each time, George’s heart clenched with jealousy. How could he compete? Charlie was handsome, quick with a compliment, and made women laugh effortlessly. The downside? Once he won a girl over, he lost interest. This time, his target was Alice, leaving poor Sophie—once his favourite—sniffling in the loo, plotting revenge.
George, meanwhile, was burly, ruddy-cheeked, and awkward, with square horn-rimmed glasses and ill-fitting clothes. His surname, Clumsyton, didn’t help—fitting for a man as socially inept as his fictional namesake. But George had one gift: computers. Any problem, he could fix.
*”George, help! My laptop’s frozen!”*
*”George, can you edit this video?”*
His fingers flew over the keyboard, and in no time, the issue was resolved, the presentation saved.
*”George, you’re a lifesaver!”* cooed Lucy or Emily, planting a kiss on his cheek, leaving him flustered and red-faced.
*”Clumsyton, you legend! I’d have been stuck for hours—next round’s on me!”* promised the lads, though they never followed through.
George didn’t drink. He preferred the girls’ gratitude anyway.
His real name was Geoffrey, but *George* had stuck after some office joke. He’d protest, but it was hopeless.
*”Come off it, it suits you!”* Charlie would say, clapping him on the back. George could never tell if it was kindness or mockery.
He wasn’t some wealthy heir—just a boy raised by his mum. When he’d asked about his father, she’d been blunt: she’d had him late, alone, wanting a child before time ran out. *”I was plain, petite, and no beauty. But I wanted you.”*
George grew up quiet and clever, tinkering with computers while other lads gamed. Soon, he was earning—not much, but enough to persuade his mum to take out a loan for a better setup. *”Anything for my boy.”*
University followed, then a proper IT job. His mum retired, doting on him—cooking, baking. George ate, grew rounder, and buried himself in screens.
Like any mother, she dreamed of a wife for him, grandchildren. She introduced him to friends’ daughters. None sparked interest—until Alice.
He lost sleep, appetite. Downloaded her photos, stared for hours. She never noticed him.
One morning, George arrived early and sabotaged her computer. Chaos ensued—reports due, deadlines looming.
*”Help!”* Alice rushed over.
He took his time, pretending to fix the issue he’d created. She bit her lip nervously. Finally, he relented.
*”It’s done.”*
*”Really? Thank you! Ask for anything!”* she blurted.
*”Anything?”*
She backtracked. *”Within reason. Fancy dinner? A film?”*
*”I’ve seen them all. But the Christmas party’s coming… Dance with me?”*
*”You? Can you even dance?”* She hesitated. *”…Alright, I promise.”*
At the party, after drinks and laughter, dancing began. George approached—only for Charlie to whisk Alice away. Heart heavy, George left.
Next day, Alice apologised. *”You left too soon! I’d have danced.”*
*”I get it. I’m not charming like Charlie. I thought you were different.”*
*”George, you’re kind, clever—but maybe lose weight? Try contacts? Better clothes?”*
That night, he studied the mirror. She was right.
He refused his mum’s pies the next day. *”Not hungry.”* Instead, he took them to work.
*”No wonder you’re round,”* Charlie said, devouring a third.
Diet alone wasn’t enough. George scoured the web—gyms, jogging—nothing appealed. Then he spotted an ad: *Dance classes for adults.*
He called, stammering about his size, his two left feet.
*”Come tomorrow at seven,”* a warm voice replied.
*”Who teaches? A man or—?”*
*”Me. I danced professionally—before an injury. Adults are harder to teach than kids.”*
Her voice held sadness. Pity stirred in George.
Next evening, he arrived. The instructor, Laura, wasn’t the waif he’d imagined—she was sturdy, older.
*”You think I’m too fat?”*
*”Nonsense. Dancing’s about heart, not looks.”*
*”You sound younger on the phone.”*
She laughed, teeth gleaming. *”Ready?”*
The empty hall eased his nerves. She demonstrated steps; he copied. Music helped. When they danced together, he trod on her toes. She pretended not to notice.
*”You’re a natural!”*
He blushed, imagining dancing with Alice.
Three weeks later, his trousers sagged. New clothes, contact lenses—even Laura helped pick shoes.
*”Like Charlie’s,”* George murmured, inspecting himself. *”Think a girl might fancy me now?”*
Laura studied him. *”You’re learning for a girl?”*
*”Yes.”*
*”She’ll love it,”* Laura said, her smile fading slightly.
Before the spring office party, Alice approached. *”You’ve changed. I remember my promise.”*
George’s heart soared.
He asked Laura what to wear.
*”Black shirt, sleeves rolled. Confidence is key. You dance better than Charlie ever could.”*
At the party, George waited. When a slow song played, he approached Alice.
They danced. He spun her, dipped her. The room stilled, then erupted in applause. Alice gazed at him, intrigued.
Charlie clapped him on the back. *”Teach me?”*
But George slipped away.
Laura was still at the studio. *”Well?”*
*”They loved it,”* he grinned.
*”And Alice?”*
*”She stepped on *my* feet.”* He chuckled. *”But *you* taught me. You believed in me.”*
He kissed her.
*”George, I’m older—”*
*”Does it matter?”* He promised to help her studio thrive.
Next day, Alice asked, *”Where’d you learn to dance like that?”*
*”From someone I love.”*
True to his word, George posted online about his transformation. Laura’s classes filled.
He kept dancing. Proposed. His mum balked at first—but feared loneliness more.
George had set out to win a girl. Instead, he found love where he least expected.
Happiness, he learned, finds you when you stop chasing it.
