The DJ is isolated in the farthest corner of the bar, and the sound system allows for the melody to be heard in various volumes throughout it: thunderous in the center of the dance floor, soft and airy near the tables and clear and raw at the sides of the bar.
Cam stretches her neck and advances forward, my hand in hers. “Come on! He’s over there!”
When we reach him, Trey smiles brightly, tells us how nice we look, and immediately places a shot in our hands.
“What is it?” I ask him, eyeing the dark liquor.
“It’s your fun juice, girl. Heard you needed it.” He holds out two limes.
I pin a glare on Cameron, and she shrugs, not waiting for me before downing her own shot. She bites into the lime and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, smirking at me.
“You gonna deny it, sweet cheeks?” She grins, her head tilted.
Popping a brow, I throw mine back, loudly knocking my glass on the bar top with a grin. “Nope.” I toss my lime at her, and she laughs, her eyes lighting up with excitement from just having me with her.
I love my best friend
“I’m going to dance!”
“Atta girl! Meet you out there!” Cam shouts while Trey calls for another round.
The minute my feet hit the center of the dance floor, where the music’s blaring the loudest, the rush takes over, and instantly, I feel better than I have in weeks.
My lungs open, and even though I’m in the middle of a growing crowd, I can breathe.
Two songs come and go and then Cam and Trey join me, fists full of liquor.
We knock back two more shots.
An hour or so in, I’m feeling good. My smile grows a little lazy, my body the perfect amount of loose, my mind on nothing but the beat blaring around me.
I look over to find Cam watching me, her back pressed against Trey’s front.
I reach out, squeezing her wrist, and she jumps at me, making me laugh as she wraps her hands around my neck.
She gets my message.
Thank you, friend.
“I love you, biatch!” she shouts, louder than necessary in my ear, and we laugh, separating from one another.
Trey puts his arm around her middle, and my eyes flit from his arm to hers.
She shrugs, biting back a smile.
Trey catches it, but lets his smirk fly free. “Another?” he asks.
“Might as well do it right.” I shrug. “And a water?”
“You got it.”
“I’ll go with, back in a minute.” She blows me a kiss, and they slink away.
“I’ll be right here.”
I keep dancing, swaying my hips to the music, enjoying every minute of freedom the music offers me.
When the song closes out and the DJ changes tracks, I give myself a mental fuck yes, and let my body lead me into more seductive movements as Ariana Grande’s “Dangerous Women” plays in the background.
Two verses in and someone joins me from behind, his shadow wide, enveloping me completely. While the heat of my new dance partner’s body is ridiculously present, he doesn’t slip closer, hovering the smallest bit away instead, and it’s as if a switch is flicked.
My heart rate spikes, my body warming. I grin into the dim room and keep moving to the music, my hands gliding along my ribs as I softly sing the song to myself.
Strong hands come up to cover mine then; he’s not actually touching my body, but he uses the position of my own hand to press just below my belly button, bringing me closer to him.
I allow it, feeling the provocative rhythm of the song as it courses through me, and when his fingers span out on top of mine, I lace them together.
I test my dance partner, swaying my hips one way, while rolling my shoulders another, making an ‘S’ like shape with my back. My head sways slightly with my movements, and my god, he keeps up, matching every twist and turn of my body with his own. Not once does he have to pause, pull back or readjust. We’re in perfect sync.
It’s intoxicating. Cathartic.
It’s exactly what I needed, a fresh, healthy way to release all my pent-up emotions without breaking down and bawling my eyes out.
Simultaneously, my chin lifts as his dips, but only the slightest bit, his warm breath now feathering across the sweat-slicked skin at the nape of my neck. It’s as if fire meets ice and has me gasping. I’d swear his chest swelled at the sound.
He pulls our joined hands away from my body, lifting them above my head, his fingers never once leaving my skin. He trails them oh so slowly down my form, until he reaches my hips. Abandoned in the air, somehow my hands know what to do, know what he wants them to do.
They dance down in time with the beat, my fingertips meeting the tips of his short, soft hair. While my right hand glides across his neck, latching on there, my left lowers, now clasped over his strong knuckles this time.