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It’s just like the rise and fall of a dance song that our night carries on, from the moments of dancing and being crazy that fly by in figurative seconds, to the times we go for a food break in the back eating cotton candy and every minute seems to stretch on and on, as we gaze out at the water and talk.
It must be midnight when I note to Kent that the party seems to have only grown bigger and louder. He chuckles at that and says, “This is a Hopewell party. It’ll last until well into Monday morning. People will be crashed all over the deck chairs outside, the couches inside, and every damned guest room. Welcome to Dreamwood Isle.” And I laugh, amazed.
I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere that’s so full of life and celebration.
I can’t be naïve and assume it’s a perfect paradise for everyone. It may seem like that from an outsider like me, but I know the people here have their own daily struggles, troubles, and pains. I guess I just never in my life saw such a fun and freeing way to let out all of those frustrations.
At one point—maybe around one or two in the morning, if I had to guess—we find a spot by the second floor railing overlooking the main room where another big dance has broken out. I catch myself gazing at the side of Kent’s face as he watches everyone, his eyes seeming full of contentment, yet still troubled, as if perplexed by some problem he’s working out in his head. I follow his line of sight down to someone dancing in the dead middle of the crowd: Adrian. He’s squeezed up to one of the guys who was trying to get into my pants earlier. After a moment of dancing, the two start making out, and I watch Kent’s face twist up with annoyance, like he was playing a betting game with himself and just lost.
Or won. “What’s on your mind?” I ask innocently.
He’s pulled from his dark thoughts, gazes at me, then smiles. “I was just realizing it’s been a while since I’ve had this much fun.”
Not what you were thinking, but I’ll take it. “Me, too.”
“You should have fun more often. We both should,” he amends, gazing away in thought. “I sometimes forget to just let loose.”
“Me, too. Rico always gets on my case about that.” I gaze off as well, suddenly struck by how I left things with my friend. That cold, emotionless last text I got from him spoke volumes: he’s not happy I canceled after saying I’d go out tonight with him. Judging from the fact that he isn’t with Adrian, I have to assume he’s at El Amado by himself. I hope he’s having his own kind of fun. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”
“Yeah? Are you?”
“Though, I gotta admit … I can’t really do what I want to do with you right now.”
He turns to me. He has a way of instantly diving deep into my eyes and latching on to something. It’s so intense, almost hypnotizing. “What’s that?”
“All kinds of stuff.” I bite my lip.
He gets the hint. “We, ah … could maybe head out, if you wanted? Back to my place? Or—”
“This place is so damned big. Surely there’s a spare room up here no one will find us.”
His eyes grow double. “Are you serious? We can’t—”
I grab his hand. “Live a little.”
“Jonah.”
I pull him away from the railing and plunge down one of the hallways. He’s practically dragged behind me as I check every door I pass. The first two are locked. The third is a bathroom. We round a corner and I turn the knob on the fourth room we find.
It opens.
A dark, unoccupied bedroom.
I yank him inside and shut the door behind us. “Good. Now we’re truly alone.”
“Jonah, we can’t—”
“Take off your clothes.”
He can barely keep up. “W-What?”
“Now. Clothes. Off, off, off. Damn it, Kent, aren’t you the one who taught me to be risky and let go?” I grapple at his clothes, taking them off for him. Suddenly he finds his own courage, abandons all sense of caution, and starts stripping me down, too. We tumble backwards onto the bed in just our underwear, and in the dark, we fumble for one another’s mouths.
Contact.
Lips, breath, and tongue.
“I want you so bad,” I breathe in his ear as he goes for my neck, devouring me and causing me to moan out.
We roll around on the bed, him on top one moment, then me the next. Pillows get thrust onto the floor. Sheets are wrinkled and peeled away as we wrestle like a pair of animals fighting for dominance.
A second ago, I was debating going for another finger sandwich from the buffet downstairs, if any were left.
