One Life To Live

A nervous tingle shot down my spine as Greg lead me to the dance floor. The part of me that thrived for order, for control warned that I was going to make a fool of myself and I should’ve stayed put at the bar. The curious part of me urged me to go on and get to know Greg better.

A slower, smooth R&B song pulsed through the stereo, and Greg pulled me forward, a comfortable smile eased across his face that was highlighted in the soft lighting. His smile reassured me when he took my left hand in his, and rested his other hand on my waist modestly. My own reached up to his shoulder and I couldn’t help but notice the tense, hard muscle there. He shuffled me expertly to the side and back, and then danced with me in place. My hips instinctively shimming with his movement.

He grinned then, pleased. “A wonderful dancer.”

I laughed, “A terrific leader.”

His smile widened, and he subtly brought me closer, his forehead closing in on mine. He cocked his head to the side, and was pondering something in his head, just then. “You’re not from New York, are you?”

I smiled, intrigued that he caught on to that. “Not at all. I hail from Minnesota.”

“Really,” he commented, pleasantly surprised.

“Really.” I affirmed, an amused smile forming on my face.

He nodded, now newly assessing me with this information. “I can see it. Small town?”

I shrugged, “Not really. Rochester, Minnesota. Close to the big cities.”

“Oh,” he said, recognition coming to his eyes, “I’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah.” I said a bit glumly. “Sometimes I really miss it.”

He met my eyes with a new found intensity. “Yeah I bet you do. Why move all the way to New York City?”

I smiled. “I’ve always dreamed of living here. The hustle bustle, people coming here to make a life for themselves…” I got a faraway look in my eyes. “It’s what was right for me. What I needed to do, even if it was a hard decision at the time.”

I had no clue why I was telling Greg all this, but it felt right – like I was lifting a great weight off my shoulders.

“Wow,” he responded, impressed. He paused for a moment, gazing at me. “How old are you?”

I chuckled, the serious moment over with completely. “21.”

“I would’ve guessed 25, right then.” His eyes glinted.

“Am I that boring?” I joked, a wry smile on my face.

He grinned. “Not at all. You just…know yourself well. It’s refreshing.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. Just then Usher’s OMG pumped through the stereo, bass coming through the speakers. An excited twinkled came into my eye.

He laughed at my expression. “Fan of Usher, huh?”

“Who isn’t?” I said enthusiastically.

Greg released his hold on me only to bust out some wicked dance moves. He did a perfect robot and I bent over laughing.

“Don’t try me,” I warned, a goofy smile on my lips. I broke into a very Beyoncé booty shake and Greg came closer to dance in sync with me.

I had to admit, this was the best time I’ve had in a long time.

And it felt pretty good to let go.

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I couldn’t look away.

I downed a huge gulp of my liquor and watched in silence. My eyes were trained on Melanie as she pivoted her hips back and forth, her hands planted on some guy’s shoulders. My fingers curled around the scotch glass I was holding, and I took another big swig out of it to calm myself. It was interesting, I thought as my lip twitched, not much has changed since the last time I spotted her dancing with another guy. My jaw still tightened, the blinding rage still in my eyes, and the taste of bitterness still on my tongue. However, there was something else present beside my jealousy. A harsh sense of betrayal was picking at my emotions making me uncomfortable. Anger and jealousy was easier to deal with – easier to handle. A frown pulled at the edges of my mouth, and I knew it was irrational – we’d broken up. But somehow I still thought she’d be single….like I was. I never thought she’d be seeing other people.

I wanted to kick myself. I was being such a pussy. When in the hell was I going to get over the fact that we were done? I shook my head.

“Pretty, isn’t she?” said some college guy standing a foot away from me. He was eyeing Mel, a smile on his face. “I could get used to a girl like her.”

Was God trying to spit on me, here? I didn’t answer; I just turned my head to glare at him. Seeing my expression, he just shrugged. “All I’m sayin’.” He straightened himself and had a grin planted on his face. “I think I’m going to get her number.”

He walked her way, pausing to chat with a blonde that purposely sashayed in front of him to make a point. I couldn’t take this – seeing all these guys go up to her, hit on her, and God forbid anything else. I directed my head away from the horrid scene and found myself looking for someone. A thought passed through my head – if Mel could have fun, shouldn’t I be able to? I was Lance Capra. I’ve had flings with women before – with lots of women. It shouldn’t be that hard now.

As I walked back up to the bar to refill my drink, my eyes zoned in on a small petite brunette sidled up against the countertop. She was dressed in a short, flowing red dress that accented how tan she was and she wore modest high heels. I slid up to the counter of the bar, and gave her a sidelong look. Feeling my gaze, she turned her eyes to me – which were a dark shade of blue and gray. She assessed me momentarily – just like I was. Her sideways smile held a note of approval. “Hi.”

I returned her smile with a charming one of my own, while I reverted back to how I’ve picked up girls a year ago. Or, rather, before I met Melanie. “Hello yourself.”

She grinned, pleased by my response. She bit her lip sexily, and extended her hand. “I’m Marie.”

I took her hand and kissed the top of it. “Lance.”

Her eyes sparkled with wonder as my lips made contact with her hand. It always interesting when I did this to a woman – they never expected it. It seems the gentleman acts in this world were becoming more and more rare. That’s all right – I was fine with just me doing it. It worked better than words could ever do. She smiled wide, her white teeth showing beneath her lips. “A pleasure to meet you, Lance.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” I replied, catching her watchful eyes in my own, making a statement within a statement.

Her grin widened, and she stared up at me suggestively. “You feel like dancing, Lance?”

Interesting, I thought, I wonder what Melanie would think of that. “Of course.” I answered. She grabbed for my hand and lead me to the dance floor just as a Shakira song replaced the momentary pause of the DJ as he switched songs. Hips Don’t Lie. They sure don’t, I observed as Marie’s curvaceous hips rolled around as the Latin music drummed through the speakers. Deriving off of the immense dancing knowledge I had, I brought her close, and my feet lead her body movements – backing up, and then bringing her forward towards me. My fingers were laced with hers and as I pulled one of her hands, her waist would pull the same way. You could tell she knew what she was doing.

My right hand drifted down to her waist, and my feet slid to the side and then I quick caught her up in my arms, gauging her reaction with my eyes. A quick grin erupted on her face and her hand reached up to run through my thick hair. From then on, our dancing was very much like the salsa. I bent her all the way back and then straight up. Her hips met my own and she shimmied in my arms. She spun around, and gripped my biceps. Looking around for the first time, I noticed we were surrounded by a huge group of onlookers who seemed to be amazed by us. Her hands slid down my chest, and back up to rest on my broad shoulders. I tipped her head back and when she brought it back up, our foreheads met. I recognized I was sweating slightly – most likely from wearing a black long sleeve shirt, and black pants. The song finally came to the last chord, and the last word was crooned by Shakira, Marie making one last spin, and I brought her into my arms.

There were whoops and hollers all around us, and Marie smiled up at me, flustered. “I didn’t know Italians could dance that good.”

I grinned at her, and as I did I could feel the testosterone pumping through my veins. “You’ve been mislead, then.”

She laughed, and kissed me on the cheek. “It seems I have.”

I ran a finger on her cheek, and as she looked up at me, I kissed her. Her eager lips kissed me back, and she leaned into me, her arm rested on my shoulder. It was a good kiss – her lips were on the thin side, but she worked them well. A moment later, I parted my lips, and pulled back to smile at her. Her eyes glistened, and I said, “Why don’t we get out of here?”

She breathed, her lip curving in the corner. “Sounds like a wonderful idea.”

I wound my arm around her waist, and lead her to the exit. Just as I did so, a figure in my peripheral vision piqued my interest, and I looked to my left.

Melanie was standing with Bethany Lynn, who looked lost in some story she was telling Melanie. Melanie watched me with a solemn intensity, her eyes never leaving me. Her mouth was a flat line, but her eyes betrayed her. They flickered with what looked like disappointment and hurt. I felt a twinge of guilt in my stomach.

Why? Was I the one feeling guilty when she was the one who first danced with some other guy. It wasn’t my fault at all. She drew the line in the sand – like she always did.

But as I looked ahead, leaving her out of my sight, my eyebrows pinched together, my arm on Marie loosened ever so slightly.

I felt like a dick.