I took interest in Scotty during the summer months. Within reasonable time, we found ourselves at Youth Conference again. We were staying at a lodge in Idaho. In the dark of the night, I expressed my love for Scotty to my room mates (one being Melinda) who laughed a little, swooned a little, and decided to do their part to bring us together. There was only one obstacle: Lynzee, Scotty’s object of affection.

 

The Christmas before my fifteenth birthday, my ward held a Christmas dance. Scotty came to the dance with the intention to dance with Lynzee, but since Scotty was never forward with girls, he spent most of the time out in the hall not dancing with Lynzee. Melinda and her entourage told me they were going to arrange for Scotty and me to dance. It sounds silly now, but at the time, I was mortified. Scotty was in high school. He had a driver’s license. He was old enough to date. I didn’t want him to dance with my ninth grade self out of pity. As Melinda approached Scotty to arrange the dance, I ran to the drinking fountain and crouched down on the side of it in fear. When I looked up, there stood Scotty with my friends grinning from behind him. “Next slow song, ok?” he informed me, and then he walked away.

 

My emotions were mixed. I very much wanted to slow dance with Scotty, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t really want to dance with me, and the thought of having everyone see us together was terrifying. When the song started, Scotty and I were dragged together, and we danced. Some of the guys in our ward had gained access to the technical booth above the church gym, and we found ourselves in the middle of a spotlight. We were both embarrassed, but at the same time, I was on cloud nine, and Scotty has since confessed to me that he was, too.

 

Sorry, Lynzee.

 

To be continued…