“What?” She snapped her gaze back up at me. “Yeah, of course. I’m gonna go dance with the birthday girl before they start playing shitty music.”
“You do that.” I smirked at her as she slid off the bar stool and grabbed Stella’s hand, dragging her away to the makeshift dance floor.
I continued to watch Brooklyn and Alec, who looked more like an old married couple arguing about furniture than best friends. I tried my best to lean closer inconspicuously, catching bits and pieces of their discussion, but someone wedged themselves up to the bar beside me.
“Hey,” they said, dull and nearly muddled up in the music and other voices. I turned to face a tall stocky kid with a shock of dirty-blond hair. “You’re one of Stella’s friends, right?”
“Yeah, I am,” I replied, giving him a polite smile as I tapped my fingers on my glass, wet with perspiration. I tried to crane my neck around him to get another glance at the other end of the bar, but his bulk and mass blocked my view entirely.
“I’m Dalton,” he said, sticking out his hand. “I go to Larocca with Stella.”
“Natalie.”
His hand was warm when I took it, and with his red cherub cheeks, he had the disposition of a teddy bear. I probably could have been nicer, but I’d lost Brooklyn and Alec in my line of sight, and for some reason, I didn’t like that.
“I see you’ve met Big D.” A pair of hands brushed against my waist, and with them came a whiff of Brooklyn’s all-too-identifiable fresh and clean cologne. I felt relief roll off my shoulders.
“What’s up, dude?” Dalton greeted Brooklyn, and while they did the standard bro handshake, their eyes were not particularly friendly. “I was wondering if I was gonna see you tonight.”
“Well, here I am.”
“Big D?” I craned my neck to look up at Brooklyn, who still had his arms draped over my shoulders from behind. “That isnotan endearing nickname.”
“It was at the time.” Dalton chuckled. “So, you two are . . .” His voice trailed off as he gestured between us.
“Yeah.” Brooklyn rushed to answer, moving his hands up to my shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. “We are.”
It wouldn’t have been difficult to buy into the fact that whatever we were didn’tneeda name, except we hadn’t explicitly talked about whether or not to give it one. Although I wouldn’t have minded calling him my boyfriend. That would have felt right too.
“Got it.” Dalton pinched his lips together and nodded. “Well, I’ll be around all night, so—”
“Yep.” Brooklyn cut him off again. “I’ll see you.”
“What wasthatabout?” I asked Brooklyn the moment Dalton was out of earshot. I spun around to face him, his arms still wrapped around me, but less warm and more cagey, like he was trying to protect me from something.
“Nothing.” Brooklyn shook his head. “He’s kind of scummy, to be honest. I’m pretty sure he used to spike girls’ drinks at parties.”
“Ew, really?” I scrunched my nose up. “He seemed so nice too.”
“They always do.” Brooklyn sighed. “Anyway, forget about him. Dance with me?”
He slid his hands back to my waist, as if he knew exactly where to touch me to get me to do whatever he asked.
“I don’t know.” I played coy with him, reaching up to absentmindedly mess with the top button of his shirt, undone and exposing a glint of silver from the chain I knew he always wore. “I’m not a good dancer.”
“You don’t have to be. I am.”
Without another word, he took my hands in his and whisked me away.
The music had shifted from poppy and familiar ’90s into something bassy and unidentifiable, shaking the floor underneath us to the beat. At first it was innocent fun. We danced and laughed like we were in our own little universe. Strobe light supernovas and music that exploded like stars. After a little while, everything started to muddle together. Colors. Hands. Sounds. Bodies. When Brooklyn spun me around, I fit a little too perfectly into him, like our bodies were two pieces at the edge of the puzzle, made only for each other. He put his hands on my hips, and I arched my back so that my head sat in the crook of his neck. We were holding each other’s hands, breathing each other’s air, swaying to a beat neither of us knew, and it was everything.
Then he spun me around again, looking down at me while the lights flashed in his deep-blue eyes like fireworks. I read once that when you looked at something you really loved, your pupils dilated, and that was how he looked at me, eyes wide and cheeks red, chest heaving to catch his breath. I brought my hands to his chest, where his heart pounded through the thin fabric of his shirt, as if it wanted to jump out of his chest and into my hands.
I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my sternum so he could feel my same runaway heartbeat, and no matter how in shape I thought I was, nothing could help my lungs from the sight of him.
This time when we moved, we really were the only two people in the room, pressed so intently together as we swayed to the beat that I wondered if our bodies were trying to become one.
“See, you can dance.” He brought his head down to mumble against my ear, and the feeling of his breath on my skin chilled every burning nerve in me.
