I survey the scene.
Bodies writhe around me to the beat of Deadmau5, fueled by Doritos and vodka, blood pumping thick through their constricted veins. Girls grind on everything in a desperate attempt to catch some poor schmuck's attention, so she can suck him dry, leaving him broke and broken hearted, leaving him a wary, untrusting douche bag, craving vengeance on the female race, hurting every girl he comes across, because one girl wrecked his life. I'm sickened at the thought.
And then, she arrives.
'I'm not in love with her. I'm not gay.' I think to myself, as she parts the crowd like the Red Sea, and my mouth dries up. She is headed in my direction, and I am woefully unprepared. It's not like we've never spoken, in fact, we're good friends. She comes to my band's shows, and she even dated the guitarist (briefly).
I look at my phone (switched off), my drink (just a Sprite), anywhere but her, until I have no choice but to look at her direction. As usual, I'm temporarily stunned by her, taking in her physique, slim, just this side of boyish. I look at her massive blue eyes, clear and deep, like the gods took bits of the sea and gave them specifically to her. Her long, black hair shines in the strobe light, casting shadows on her ivory skin, hiding the pimples on her temples. Her mouth is a stiff, pale pink line, the corners twitching up as all five feet and two inches of her slink towards me like a jungle cat.
"Howdy, stranger." She winks up at me, and I manage a tight, almost robotic smile in return.
We stand against the wall in stony silence until she pipes up.
seeing anyone, are you?" She struggles to be heard over the music. I shake my head, my blood pounding in my ears, drowning out everything but her voice, my hands almost vibrating with nerves. "Okay, okay cool, because," I have to stoop to hear her, her voice is so soft, "because I have these tickets to see The Killers and
" she gnaws on her lower lip, looking up at me. The only response I can muster is a dumbfounded nod. I thought she was straight. Wasn't she dating that dropout? "Great
it's a date?" Her voice cracks on the final word and I giggle, nodding again. She grins, bright, youthful, and bounces away, but before I have the chance to miss her, she turns back and pulls me down to her level to kiss me on the cheek.
The smell of cinnamon and vanilla lingers.