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I mean, technically at school I learned the four square and a couple steps of the jig, but I’ve never danced, like, for fun before. Music was never important in my household growing up, and by the time I became a teen, my love for alternative rock was ingrained. Don’t get me wrong, I can play the air guitar like the best of them, but when it comes to swinging my hips? I am a newbie. Fresh on the dance floor.
Now that we’re here, I realize I should have taken the time to google tips and tricks for beginners. Or at least watched a Shakira music video. Because it turns out, faking it is a lot harder to do when you don’t knowhowto fake it.
Deciding to learn from my squad, I study Porsche’s movements for a few seconds. The rapid succession of arm bends starts to give me a headache, but I force the throb aside and do my best to follow.
“Ow! Watch the flailing, Uma Thurman.” I wince apologetically at the cute guy standing nearby. Cross arm movements off the list.
I turn my attention to Stella, my eyes widening as I take in her effortless hip sways. Back and forth, side to side, clockwise, counter clockwise; my roommate’s lower body never stops moving. Throwing me a wink and twirling around, Stella looks like she is having the time of her life. All I can do is stare, mesmerized by her fluidity.
At the moment, there are only two things I know for certain: Stella’s hips do not lie. And I may have a new girl crush.
Focusing on Stella’s movements, I try to swing my hips from side to side. Too much momentum carries me far right, and I take down the brunette beside me.
“ARE YOU OKAY?” Screaming in my ear, Stella hauls me off the sticky ground. My pants feel strangely damp, and I pray to God it’s just spilt beer. I don’t want to know what other substances are on these floors.
I nod yes to Stella’s question, and over her shoulder I catch sight of a couple dirty dancing as if their lives depended on it. The guy’s hands are around the girl’s waist, pulling them flush together while they move perfectly in synch. I say move, but I guess the technical clubbing term would be grinding.
I’m not the only one watching the couple thrust, er, grind against each other. The crowd as a whole seems to be captivated by the striking couple; the confidence oozing from them seeping into the energy of the club itself.
The girl’s dark cornrows contrast beautifully against the guy’s bright white t-shirt - cue the blacklight glow - and his fair skin is barely visible as her hands clutch his midnight-coloured hair. Doing a double take as I register the dark locks the girl is holding on to and flick my eyes to the biceps circling the girl’s torso.
It’s Wes.
Wes
This chick can move.
I’m always down for grind time, but every once in a while, you find a partner who fits perfectly against your body, and the whole night gets taken to the next level.
Here’s some Wes wisdom for ya: clubs are a fantastic source of foreplay. I can sense your disbelief but think about it: the alcohol, the hormones, the over-stimulated senses, the flirting, the dancing; my list could go on forever. Clubs are the perfect way to scout out a good lay; you can test what fits without so much as taking off a shoe. No muss, no fuss.
The best part is most girls are here looking for the same thing: no strings, no promises. Hell, half the time I don’t even get a phone number by the end of the night. It’s purely symbiotic, where two horny parties come together as a means to an end.
Pun intended.
Honestly, Simone’s ass rubbing against me is just what I need to get the whole courtyard situation out of my head. How my innocent intentions to check on a friend almost turned into a make-out session is something I still do not understand. One second I’m using my big brother status to name all the flowers, the next I’m being pulled like a magnet to Trip’s slightly too full bottom lip.
Shit. Now, I’m thinking about that bottom lip again.
Grind time. Focus on grind time.
I roll my hips in time to the music and Simone is right with me. Damn. If this keeps up, this might be the best night I’ve had in a while. I lift my head to nuzzle her neck and see a flash of neon hair. What the…
Keeping my hips moving in time to the beat, I do a sweep of the room, my eyes landing on platinum hair whipping back and forth in the highest ponytail I’ve ever seen. I smile, immediately recognizing Stella’s tiny stature. My gaze drifts over to the two girls she’s dancing with and I’m instantly amazed by the Asian’s TikTok moves. Her arms hit every musical beat, and there’s no awkward transition from one move to another. Consider me impressed.
I shift my gaze to the third girl in their group and I try not to cringe. The poor girl shuffles painfully from side to side, completely out of time with the rhythm. I would bet she doesn’t normally listen to pop music.
Studying the girl from across the room, something strikes me as familiar. Loose golden-brown curls fall around her pretty face, the sexy bandeau emphasizing a decent sized rack, and black skinny jeans show off her long legs. I’m intrigued, even while half my attention is on Simone, and that’s before me and the terrible dancer make eye contact.
The girl I can’t get out of my head is here.
The realization drop kicks me in the face and I stumble over the next two beats of music. It’s not hard to fall back in rhythm with Simone, but suddenly, I don’t want to fall back in rhythm with her. There’s someone else I want to see.
Abruptly stepping out from Simone’s embrace, I give her a quick kiss on the cheek, and she nods in understanding, “If you change your mind, I’ll be at the sorority house tonight. Maybe with company, maybe not.” Giving me a smile full of bad intentions, Simone winks and wanders off in search of her next partner.
Taking note of that tidbit of information, I turn and make a beeline for Trip. Like a drunken sailor, I stumble my way through the crowd until I reach my grey-eyed siren.
“Someone’s quite the irresponsible student. Don’t you have a ten-page paper to write?” Bending to yell in her ear, my senses are immediately overwhelmed by her coconut vanilla shampoo. Jesus, where does she buy that stuff?
