The sand packed between my toes and flip flops stings. I wish I could just take off my shoes and run around barefoot. But my friends and I keep having people joining our group, making our rhythm change. It doesn't help that the music coming from the sound system in the back of the jacked up truck is so loud it's shaking my brain loose. And with all these people, it's near impossible to maneuver, let alone bend down and keep balance on one foot.
The flames of the bonfire plume towards the heavens. The flames move to their own beat. If you look, you will be entranced by their colors. Red, yellow, orange, and blue, variations of each mixed together in their own copulating dance.
A guy I've never met approaches our group. He's cute. And you can tell he knows it by the way he swaggers over. It's like we should be falling on our knees worshipping him, but we just keep dancing. Seeing a pretty face isn't something we're unused to. It's a common occurrence. One we roommates laugh about. In fact there are a couple dancing with us now, being polite and keeping their respectable distance.
A girl from the nearby group that the boy just left, sneers. She's gorgeous, and I wonder why she'd lower herself to the immaturity of a three year old who just got her toy stolen.
The boy moves from one of my friends to the next, getting a taste for each one of their dancing styles, almost like he's testing driving each of us before he decides which keys to steal. When he comes to me, I back away and stop dancing. I'm not one to entertain someone so brazen. One of my roommates grabs my hand and laughs, pulling me back into the group. The boy gives me a challenging look, like I can't handle him.
Taking a deep breath, I walk away, on the hunt for someone worthy of my time.
I find my victim surrounded by girls, wishing they could get their hands on the treat in front of them. Some of them are successful, before he gently brushes their advances away. His eyes are as blue as the fire is hot. His black hair a contrast. Tan skin peaks out from his button down shirt, glistening with sweat from the summer's heat.
I press my body into the small crack the girls create as they move back and forth, squeezing into the center. Once his eyes meet mine, he becomes pliable and moves to greet me. Grabbing his hand, I pull him from the group. A couple of the girls tug and hold on, crying out their dismay. But he shakes them off with a sultry smile, one that earns immediate forgiveness.
The boy who thought he owned us, eyes' widen, as I tote my prize back to my group.
Flicking off my shoes, I turn into my new man. A smile softens the planes of his face, knowing what I'm about to ask. We begin to explore each other's movements. He picks right up on the rhythm, meeting, then enhancing our moves so that we partner and mirror each other. He has moves that most men covet, and I work to show off every one.
I've lost track of how many floor to ceiling mirrors we've been seen in together. And don't even get me started on the home videos. Not only are our moves matched, our coloring and bodies have form and symmetry that only dancers' bodies obtain. We've been paired for reasons only experts can see. And seeing us in action is a dream even I have a hard time believing.
By the time the song ends, my breathing comes in a rush, my lungs starved for precious air. My partner has me pulled up against him in a suggestive move that I usually try to avoid. But he must feel it necessary if he's chosen to do it now, in front of all these people. Most we call friends and will laugh off the move, but the ones, like the boy who thought he owned every girl here, who don't know us so well, will keep their distance from me for the rest of the night, which is exactly what I was trying to do.
A suggestive whistle sounds behind me, and I pull away before the next song begins. My partner bends down and brushes his lips behind my ear. "If you need me again, just let me know."
I watch as my best friend walks away. He's swarmed by more women, all wanting a chance of having the experience I just had. It's a high you don't come down from. I wonder if he feels the same pounding in his chest as his eyes meet mine over the heads of his worshippers. There's flames in them, flames that belong to the desire in one's heart.
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