Will and I weaved our way gradually through the crowd to where Cordy was tearing it up with a horde of guys surrounding her, all smiling and jostling to get nearer to her. Xander had retreated to the lonely safety of the bar, where he sat nursing a drink, probably a Coke since we’re all too young for alcohol legally, though on occasion we’ve managed to get served somehow.
I like to watch my friends dance. Same as I love watching Oz play guitar. He’s so laidback about it, like he is with everything, so different from his girlfriend.
Willow’s so shy and self-conscious with her dancing style. She’s so timid and nervous, she just stands there shifting her weight from foot to foot, bobbing her head to the rhythm, and checking to make sure no one’s laughing at her, so she knows she fits in enough to be hidden.
Cordelia’s a cold-hearted bitch when it comes to relationships, romance and boyfriends. She’s a tease and a flirt, stringing everyone along when she feels like it. She’s pretty and popular, and to her guys mean money, smoochies and even more attention than she gets already. When she dances with guys, she wriggles and writhes and bumps and grinds against them, pressing so damn close. She pulls their arms round her, places their hands on her, makes them touch her, hold her, kiss her, want her. Then she pulls away, walks off and starts her routine with the next guy, leaving her last victim standing staring in shock.
Me? How do I dance? Well…I’m a kind of wild, let loose, forget-all-in-the-spur-of-the-moment, heat-of-the-here-and-now dancer. I hold my hands together high above my head, dance with passion. I dance to relieve all the stresses and tensions. There’s always way too many of those. So what if I get guys looking my way at the same time? Sometimes they get too close and I back off a bit, take my out-of-control boogying down a couple of notches. I get scared off sometimes. If I’m on my own I rarely go all-out. I need to know I’ve got my friends looking out for me before I’ll enter the Zone.
I saw them looking at me. Shooting me quick glances, and looking away as soon as I caught them doing it. They were that type. They’d get close soon. Inch their way nearer and nearer to me. Doing it so slowly in the hope that I wouldn’t notice. I always noticed.
They were a gang of guys in leather jackets. The kind of ‘troublemakers’ my parents detest. The rebels who smoke, fight, drink and ride motorbikes.
There were three main guys that I’d noticed straight away. They’d all been leaning against a wall, taking deep drags on fags. One of them was glugging at a bottle of something too. They wore boots, dark jeans, scruffy t-shirts and those incredible knee-length leather dusters. All three of them following the same style. Two of the guys had bright platinum blond hair; the other was dark haired and I could feel his chocolate coloured eyes on my back, burning my skin, making me tingly.
They were all muscled and buff. Tall, handsome and pale. So very pale. Scarily, deathly pale.
I got sick waiting for them to start playing the dance version of cat and mouse. I walked over to them, all slinky hips, like a supermodel, like my mother. Smiled at the guy in the middle, one of the blonds.
“Hey guys. Wanna dance?”
Cordy stopped dancing instantly and Willow waved anxiously, trying to get my attention.
The guy blew a controlled jet of smoke at me. It smelt sickening but irresistible at the same time. Confusing. He was looking down on me. Just because he was taller than me…He smiled. It was the sexiest smile ever. He leaned in towards me, like he was going to tell me some big secret.
“Your girlfriends are waiting for you.” He said cruelly, in his London Brit accent. He took another puff on his cig then made the smoke curl out of his nostrils, reminding me of a dragon. He held the cigarette out to me then yanked it away again. “I forget. Good girls don’t smoke.”
I glared at him. “They are not my girlfriends. And who’s to say I’m a good girl?”
The dark haired guy next to him smiled at me, like he meant it. “Ignore Spike. He gets a little…feisty when he’s been drinking. We’d love to dance with you, but your friends seem to want you.” His voice had faint traces of Irish accent in it, hidden well below the surface.
I looked over at Willow and Cordelia, who were both watching me nervously, mouthing at me to come back. I shook my head at them furiously, thoroughly pissed off that they were trying to wreck my chances with the guys.
The third guy finally spoke up. “Drink?”
I shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
Indeed. Why not? Why shouldn’t I have accepted a drink? Just a drink, right? Not like you can get drunk on one drink. I mean, I’m definitely not the sort of girl to go getting drunk. It’s not my scene. Faith’s, maybe. But not mine.
So what could go wrong?
Nothing. Something. Everything.
He nodded. “What do you want?”
I smiled. “Surprise me.”
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