Hannah had no idea what was going on in Roy Yarn's mind. She stood up and walked over to the boy, urging him, "Come on, hurry up."
Roy stammered, "I might step on your foot."
Hannah frowned, "Why are you talking so much?"
With that, she took the boy from his chair and led him to the dance floor, grabbed his hand and placed it on her waist, and then looked up at the shy-faced boy, "Follow my steps; understand?"
The boy obediently nodded, feeling the warmth in his palm, his face grew even redder.
Fortunately, the lighting at the ball was not bright enough for anyone to see.
Throughout the dance, Roy didn't know where to focus his gaze. His hand on Hannah's waist was as stiff as a piece of wood, frozen with fear of moving yet stubbornly maintaining a certain distance.
Hannah laughed at him, "You don't seem to be dancing; you look like you're getting punished."
All Roy did was shake his head, "No, no, we have to respect girls."
