Page 85 of Bound By Fury

“Oh, uh, well, I—” Daisy stammers.

“Listen here, pip-squeak,” Missy says, bending down to Daisy’s eye level. “I could crush you to dust with my thighs if I wanted to.”

Daisy nods slowly.

“I could fucking bench-press you,” Missy adds for emphasis.

“Good… to know…” Daisy coughs. “Your highness.”

Missy straightens. “Don’t ever say cheerleading isn’t a real sport again.”

“Okay,” I say, finally butting in. “Now that we’ve got that cleared up… what now?”

I look from Daisy to Sam and back again.

The volume of the music increases, and Daisy cups her hands around her mouth to be heard. “Let’s dance!”

Dance? No. I’m not a dancer. At least not a sober one. I’m going to need way more than two sips of this beer if she wants me to go out there and embarrass myself like that.

“You guys go ahead,” I say, gently pushing them forward. I chuck my thumb over my shoulder. “I gotta go see a guy about a… a thing…”

“What? Boo! No way!” Sam says, making a fart noise with their mouth and giving me a double thumbs-down. “You should dance with us!”

I’m a little surprised by Sam’s enthusiasm for dancing. It seems so at odds with their usual careful demeanor. The only physical activity I’ve ever seen them do is jiujitsu practice.

“Yeah, come dance with us!” Daisy chimes in.

“Dance with us! Dance with us! Dance with us!” they chant together, their shoulders already shimmying to the music, their faces illuminated by the lanterns and industrial flashlights that litter the party, casting everyone in a soft white glow beneath the razor-sharp points of a crescent moon.

“Okay, fine!” I laugh, glancing at Missy’s retreating back as she weaves through the crowd. I chug the rest of my beer and slam my cup onto the table.

Sam and Daisy pause, startled looks on their faces.

“What?” I say, shrugging sheepishly.

“You know what? Hell yeah!” Daisy shouts, slamming hers back as well, followed by Sam.

I pour us all new drinks, and we push our way through the mass of bodies. The center of the crowd is a black hole. We face one another, lifting our arms and shaking our hips, melting as the music glides over us.

With each sip, our dancing grows more frantic. We give ourselves over to the tempo. There is a dangerous air to the night. It surges through us. It slithers between our bodies; it coats the back of my throat.

My back is flush against something solid, our hips swaying together, strong, deft hands wrapping around the flesh at my sides. Their fingertips press not so gently, biting into the softer parts of me. I rest my head against their firm chest and close my eyes. The North Carolina humidity clings to every bit of our bodies, and where our bare skin touches, we are slick with the disinhibition of youth.

Turning around, I slide my hands down broad shoulders.

“Hi,” I say, smiling up at Lucas.

“Hey.” His voice is low. Smooth.

Here, like this, it’s only natural to melt for him.

Hungry eyes roam my body. Warmth spreads at my core, drawing me closer to him.

“Congrats on your win tonight!” I yell over the music. When my words reach his ears, he smiles.

My stomach flutters as his hand glides up my back and rests at the nape of my neck, sinking into my baby hairs and pulling me even closer, his mouth lowering so slow, it’s almost painful.

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”