I ignore it. “As you can see, dear brother, there was no need. I’m standing, and now… I’m going to dance.”
Cam shrieks, quickly placing herself beside me. “Not without me, bitch!”
“Goddamn,” Brady draws out, causing all our heads to turn in the direction he’s drooling.
With a giant grin on his face, he nudges Mason’s shoulder. “Move it, brotha man.” Hooking his thumb over his shoulder, Brady points to the brunette leaning over the bar. “I gotta get over there.”
“You can’t even see her face from here.” Cam scrunches her nose.
“Dat ass, though,” he says, looking at me expectantly.
I smile wide, picking up what he’s putting down. “All that ass…”
“In them jeans,” Brady finishes on a laugh, raising his hand for a well-earned high five. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”
“Okay, Waka Flockas, let’s go.” Cameron rolls her eyes, pulling me toward the dance floor.
We wedge ourselves between a few groups of people, finding a nice, crowded spot near the center, and let loose.
“Girl, I’m feeling good right now!” Cam shouts over the music.
“Same!” I laugh. “That last drink snuck up on me.”
Ne-Yo’s “She Knows” begins to play through the speakers and we lock eyes.
“Aw shit,” we scream in drunken laughter, and then we go to work.
Swinging our hips, rotating our bodies to the beat, we soak up our very first night in a club.
I close my eyes and let the music take over my body, like it always does. When I’m happy or sad or mad, anything, music is what I seek. I relate life to lyrics, tone to mood.
The beat can wake me or break me down, the words can lift me or leave me a soppy mess. A lot of people avoid songs that make them remember pain when they’re drowning in it, but I say let that sucker take you under. When people feel good, they tend to blast some bubbly music that makes them dance around, so if you’ll dance when you feel like dancing, why not have a good cry when you need one?
I need music like my twin needs football; it’s in our souls, and right now, my soul is feeling sultry.
It’s not long before a blond guy makes his way through the crowd and begins to slink his way closer. I smile, giving him the okay, so he slides right in, and we begin to dance. In my peripheral, I notice Chase and Mason dancing with some girls only a few feet away. I have no doubt it’s purposeful, their way of keeping an eye on us girls, but to give them credit, they don’t interrupt.
Probably because we keep our partners a shuffle away. A few songs later, Chris Brown’s “Loyal” comes on, and Cam squeals beside me.
I throw my hands in the air again, ditching my partner for my best friend, and we sing along like a couple of drunk girls at a karaoke bar, loud and out of tune.
Cam jerks her chin in the direction of our boys, and I know exactly what she’s thinking.
We make our way to the boys, just in time to sing along with the chorus, sending each other into another fit of laughter.
“Cute, girls.” Mason laughs, stepping away from the scowling redhead. “Real, cute.”
Cameron grins, fanning herself. “I need a water and another drink!”
Mason glances around, assumingly in search of Brady, and then throws his arm over Cameron’s shoulder. “I’ll take her!” he shouts, pulling her toward the bar, but not before he points at me, his eyes on Chase. “Stay with her.”
They walk away and I face Chase, dramatically shimmying my shoulders around and he chuckles, shaking his head, but he doesn’t accept the invitation, so I dance without him.
My eyes close and I fall into the music, and about a half song later, the heat of Chase’s nearness washes over me. It takes a serious amount of effort, but I don’t open my eyes, not yet. I wait, continuing to sway to the music, and finally, he moves a little closer. My senses are flooded with his clean, sandalwood scent, and my eyes fly open, locking onto his bloodshot gaze.
His movements are a little loose from the liquor, but he keeps up, and when I brace my hands on his shoulders, bringing myself in a little more, he allows it.
“Well, look at that,” I tease. “We’re almost dancing.”
A grin pulls at the corner of his mouth, and I suck in a deep breath when his free hand falls to my hip. “You’re brave for wearing this thing.” He tugs at the stretchy fabric.
“Do you like it?”
He frowns and a low laugh leaves me, but I don’t say anything else, the heat of his hand frying my brain. It’s all I can think about.