AllFreeNovel
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I’m dancing. Just shoulders and hips, a bend in the knees, but I don’t want to stop. We move to the next song, and the next until we’re a collection of tired muscles, stomachs sore from laughter, cheeks aching from smiling, throats hoarse from muted words swallowed up by music. Until I can’t remember what color everyone’s clothes are. They are only whatever color the lights are at this moment. I’m breathless and yet when Lulu tips her head back to laugh, she takes my breath away. Her ponytail is lopsided, her shoulders square as her mouth forms my name. I can’t believe there was a time, any time, not just the minutes or hours ago, that I was afraid of this. Of touching her, being near her, dancing. I was so afraid of fucking it up, failing, it never occurred to me that I might have fun again.
The whole time, Lulu never lets go of my hand.
After more songs than I could ever know, Brooke motions to Lulu, her pinkie finger lifted, thumb tipped to her mouth. Lulu nods vigorously. They drag us off the dance floor and find a sliver of space open at the bar.
“Do you like to dance?” she asks, turning to me with a bottle of water.
I nod before I let myself think about it. I haven’t danced since George and I were together, when he would drag me onto the dance floor of a Philly gay bar, our friends plying me with shots until I was loose enough to move.
“You’re good at it,” she says.
I close my eyes, hopeful I’ll find the right words in the dark.
“I need to use the restroom.”
Those were the wrong words.
Before she can respond, I shove the water bottle at her and walk blindly until I see a door with the outline of a person on it. I squint against the bathroom light. I don’t actually have to pee. I just need a moment to think without music and synthetic smoke and Lulu pressed against me. The water from the tap doesn’t have a temperature above freezing but it’s good on my overheated skin, and besides, I’m used to cold showers. I wash my hands and splash water on my face. The dirty mirror reflects a distorted version of myself back.
“Hey, man.” A guy walks in, sporting a patchy red beard and a rumpled band T-shirt. His feet zigzag on the way to the urinal. “I saw you out there with that blond girl,” he says, all of his words pushed together. He rests his forehead on his arm against the wall. “Is she your girlfriend?”
Back when I was still a firefighter, sometimes we’d get calls to medical emergencies involving drunks. Usually, it meant ensuring they were hydrated and not a danger to themselves or others. Drunks were always the worst to deal with. Not all of them are belligerent but even when they’re friendly, they’re so completely self-absorbed that conversation is pointless.
“No,” I say to the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes too big. The only thing that’s familiar is my too-short hair.
“Good. Good.” He nods like this was all part of some plan. “I think she taught me some history course last semester. Something about...feminism or witches or some shit.” He zips up and staggers to the bathroom counter. He uses water, but no soap. “She’s not your girlfriend, right?” he asks again.
I think the reflection I see in the mirror is what Lulu would call Grump Face. “No.”
“Lucky me.”
I frown at him in the mirror. My skin itches to get back to her. To answer her next smile with my lips on her skin. What is there to be scared of? Only this. The possibility that she could leave here. Anyone else thinking they have a right to Lulu’s time when they can’t even be bothered to know: it was feminismandwitches.
“I’ll see you out there.” He lifts his dripping wet hand like he’s about to pat my shoulder.
“Please don’t touch me.”
He goes bug-eyed and he wipes his hand on his pants. I follow him out, my feet take me back to Lulu as if they have a GPS. She’s back on the dance floor, bopping with Brooke and Trey.
“Will you leave with me tonight?” I ask. “Together.”
She blinks. “OK,” she says, frowning, confused.
I lean in closer. “Will you leave with me,” I say in her ear so that only she will hear me clearly. “As more than friends?”
I pull back. Her lower lip is caught between her teeth, her forehead creases. I glance over her shoulder to make sure Trey and Brooke haven’t caught us doing anything that could be labeled as something “just friends” don’t do.
Now that it’s done, now that she knows exactly what I want and how I feel, there’s nothing left but to breathe, to catch my breath in the space between us. Her hand trails down my arm. Tapping Brooke on the shoulder, she whispers in her ear, waves to Trey. I mouth goodbye to them. We throw smiles at people we know. She hugs George one-armed and as he squints at me over her shoulder, his expression is unreadable, blank. “Tired,” I say. “Text you tomorrow.”
He nods.
Lulu pulls me toward the door and we don’t speak to each other until we get outside. “Your place?” she asks.
“Y-yes.”
The wind carries me to the Bronco. The humming of the tires on the asphalt is our radio. I pull out of the parking lot and suddenly I’m turning into my driveway, autopilot having taken over. Even out here, away from the lights of Main Street, the sky isn’t fully black. It’s a deep blue blanket pulled over us, a few silver stars breaking through the canopy.
She leans across the bench seat, presses her lips against the corner of my mouth. I feel her everywhere. In the tips of my fingers, warming my chest, at the base of my spine. In my cock.
