Thoughts of Confusion by MelWil
I'm confused. This isn't a new feeling by any means. I've seemed to be in a state of perpetual confusion since I first came to the White House. But this is different. For one thing we've got different clothes on. Instead of the normal neutral suits we've got evening gowns and tuxedos. Because we're at a reception and that's how people at receptions dress.
Oh, be real Ainsley. This is weird because you're here, at a Democrat event, because Sam asked you to be his date. It's the President's fault really. He wanted dancing at this thing, proper, old fashioned dancing. So Toby decided to come with CJ, and Josh turned up with Donna, and Sam invited me. And then I said yes. I'm not even sure why except that I love dancing, and I don't get many chances to go out and Sam looked so desperate.
Sam. The cause of my confusion. Now there's a big surprise. That boy's had me going in every direction since I met him. At first I thought he was just an arrogant, holier than thou, democrat. And then, when he was telling me off about talking about guns in front of Josh, I saw how caring and protective he could be. But then he was almost cruel when I started work until he saw those dead flowers and that sign and he just jumped into battle for me. And now he's holding me in his arms, and we're laughing as he twirls me around the room.
People look at us strangely when we're together. When all that they've seen is that morning on Capital Beat, they thing that Sam and I should be declared enemies. But we're not. We actually get on pretty well at work. Sometimes we sit together at the White House mess or in his office of my bat cave. We talk about politics, not about policies and beliefs, but about the practice of politics, the bartering, the games, the ways that politics are played around the world. But we also talk about sports and our families and general knowledge.
Sam has a lot going for him. He's intelligent and he can see things from more that one side. He's caring and tender and always wants to protect his friends. Ok, so he can be a little goofy, but only to the point where he matches me. He likes Gilbert and Sullivan. And he is very, very, good looking. So why aren't I with him? Why can't I just cut loose and say, to hell with it all, and kiss the man? Why won't he?
But now the fast music has stopped and a slower song has begun. And I'm here in Sam's arms and I can't think of a place I would rather be at the moment. He's smiling at me and I'm smiling back wondering how on earth I ended up here, how these people managed to break through to me, to make me look beyond party differences. If anyone had told me three months ago that I would be happy working in a democrat White House and happiest when dancing in the arms of one of the main members of the administration I would have seriously recommended that they see their head doctor. But here I am.
When the party finally finishes Sam walks me out to where a car is waiting for me. Usually this is the awkward moment, the time where you find out whether or not anything will ever happen. But Sam just gives me his wonderful smile and a quick kiss on the cheek, telling me that he had a wonderful time. As the car pulls away I turn my head to watch him and all I can think is what will happen next.