Take Me Dancing

The bar was small, dark and smelled of smoke. The first thing Kelly noticed was the overwhelming amount of couples openly sucking each other’s faces off in not-so-private booths. It was then that she remembered that it was Valentine’s Day. She groaned and brought her hand to her forehead, a fresh wave of depression moving through her.

“Let’s get some fucking shots,” she grumbled, leading the way to the bar. Becca hollered her agreement and took off after her, slumping into a bar stool awkwardly and bumping shoulders with Kelly in the process. She giggled at her clumsiness as Kelly ordered, the bartender placing a plate of shots before them.

“Shit,” Becca said, eyeing the shots. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“I don’t like Valentine’s Day,” Kelly muttered, before downing two shots in a row. Becca’s eyes widened as she came to the realisation that she’d completely forgotten all about it. “Fuck!” she exclaimed, downing a shot quickly and slamming the tiny glass down on the bar, almost breaking it. “I forgot!”

“Whakaio’s your boy?” Kelly questioned.

“Honestly, I don’t even fucking know. We’ve been best friends since forever but lately we’ve been going out on dates, just the two of us and he hugs me a lot in ways he didn’t before. I don’t even know if we’re a couple or not, man. I don’t mind either way. It is what it is, ya know?” she slurred, downing another shot.

“I don’t know, actually,” Kelly said. “I mean, bassists seem to like me but I’m pretty much invisible to the rest of the male species.”

“You should meet Cam!” Becca said excitedly.

“Who’s that?”

“The bassist of Whak’s band,” Becca said with wink. Kelly rolled her eyes.

“I’m not sure my magic works on Australians,” Kelly said with a smile.

“Excuses, excuses!” Becca slurred loudly. “I must introduce you!”

“Hey Becks, what’re you up to now?” Whakaio cut in, placing his hand on Becca’s lower back protectively, as if he wanted to make sure every guy in the bar knew she was with him. Kelly was grateful for the distraction. The last thing she wanted was to be pushed into a guy’s face on Valentine’s Day and be rejected. Becca tilted her head back to look at Whakaio and smiled drunkenly.

“Hey, Whak!” she said, much too enthusiastically.

“Hey Becca,” he replied, laughing softly.

“I forgot about V-Day!” she said.

“You didn’t want to do anything for Valentine’s Day, did you?” Whakaio asked her nervously. He wasn’t sure if they were dating or not. Were they just friends, still? Like they had been for the last six years? With Becca, it was impossible to tell. She was so damn casual about everything, like she really didn’t care. That was one of the things he liked most about her, though. She was easy-going, and didn’t make a big drama out of every little thing like most girls did.

“Nope,” she said. “Shot?” Whakaio laughed and took one from her, downing it hesitantly and scrunching up his nose at the bitter taste. “How do you guys drink this shit?” he asked the girls. “Helps if you’re already drunk!” Becca hollered, before dragging her not-boyfriend out onto the dance floor to embarrass the both of them. Kelly watched them with a smile on her face, briefly distracted from her Valentine’s Day-induced depression. It was always something.

She downed a few more shots, and then kept drinking until her stomach felt funny and her legs were shaky. She felt so light-headed, like she was floating instead of walking, her body tingling all over, her brain buzzing with excitement at the sheer feeling that being drunk brought her. She’d lost the others, but wasn’t too worried – she’d find them again soon enough, what with Becca’s high-pitched drunken shouting. Looking around at all the couples dancing to a slow, romantic song, Kelly decided to make her own mark.

She strolled out onto the dance floor on her tip-toes, feeling silly and maybe slightly happy. She went right to the middle, pushing through couples, and then she started dancing on her own, flailing her arms about madly and having the time of her life. Ten minutes into her solo dancing career, she was interrupted by a hand on her arm. She snapped her eyes open and shook the hand off of her, before looking at the perpetrator.

The offender was tall, blonde, muscular, dirty-looking and downright fucking sexy. Kelly tried not to make it obvious she was staring. He was the one to speak up first.

“You’re dancing. By yourself. On Valentine’s Day.”

“Is there another day of the year that I should be doing so?” Kelly shot back at him, placing one hand on her hip in annoyance.

“No, I…”

“You what? You think I’m pathetic and you came over here just to tell me so?” Kelly snapped, surprised at her own ability to string sentences together in her drunken state.

“Actually, I’m kind of impressed,” he said, smiling at her.

“By my dancing or this little encounter we’re having right now?” Kelly smirked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Both.” He grinned and held out his hand. “I’m Cam.” Kelly raised her eyebrows at him.

“Really?” she said. “Did Becca send you here?”

“You know Becca?”

“It’s recent.”

“She’s a little devil, isn’t she?” he said with smile, shaking his head.

“That she is,” Kelly agreed with a smile. “I’m Kelly, by the way.”

“Well, Kelly. May I have this dance?” He bowed extravagantly and held out his hand, which Kelly took hesitantly. He immediately pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her torso, bending at the knees to lower her body so she almost touched the ground. She threw her head back and laughed, her hair brushing the floor. He grinned and pulled her back up, placing one hand on her hip as she put one hand on his shoulder. He looked her in the eye with a mischievous smile and said:

“Do you tango?”

“It takes two,” she said, feeling lame, before leading him across the dance floor and whipping her head back and forth dramatically. Cam laughed and followed her lead, feeling like a little bitch but deciding not to care. They danced together for hours and drank continuously, getting more and more fucked up by the minute. Cam’s phone buzzed in his pockets and he glanced at the text.

“Fuck. It’s Matt. Says we’ve gotta get our arses back to the van,” Cam said, slipping the phone back into his pocket. Kelly loved his Australian accent. She could listen to him talk all night. She mentally slapped herself for even thinking that. The alcohol was getting to her. She was never this pathetic.

“Right. It’s been fun, then, I guess,” she replied, settling back in at the bar.

“What the fuck are you saying? You’re coming with me!” Cam said, grabbing her hand and dragging her after him. Kelly smiled to herself as she let Cam lead her through the bar. He got lost in the crowds of people and ended up on the second level balcony overlooking the dance floor instead.

“Fuck,” he said.

“What?”

“I’ve gotta piss like seabiscuit.”

“I’m sure there’re toilets around here somewhere,” Kelly said, looking around.

“Too late to stop the stream, my friend!” he hollered, stepping towards the edge of the balcony and unzipping his jeans.

“Cam! What the fuck are you doing? Cam!” Kelly yelled, but it was too late. Cam hollered down at the people on the dance floor as his piss rained down on them. “Four!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, erupting in laughter.

“This isn’t golf!” Kelly laughed, trying her best not to have a peek at his penis.

“It’s like pickin’ off ants!” He screamed in laughter as the occupants of the dance floor yelled profanities up at him, their wet hair dripping Cam’s urine onto their faces. One particular guy was yelling louder than the rest of the crowd, saying that Cam had a small penis. Cam grinned broadly at him, flipped him the bird, and redirected his stream to land neatly in the yeller’s mouth.

Kelly started laughing uncontrollably and watched Cam as his seemingly endless stream of piss rained down on the people below. “Hey!” a gruff voice called out. “Hey, you! Stop that!” Kelly turned and saw two huge security guys headed for Cam. She rushed over to him and grabbed his arm.

“Dude, security!” she said, panicking.

“Oh, fuck!” Cam said, running sideways and sort of hopping along like a crab, trying to avoid getting his own piss on his jeans.

“You’re still pissing? Really?” Kelly asked incredulously as they continued to push through the throngs of people towards the exit. Kelly found a door and flung it open, only to lead her and Cam to a tiny balcony overlooking the alley below. The security guards were gaining on them and Cam looked directly under their feet at the dumpsters below them, filled with trash. He looked from the dumpsters to Kelly, raising his eyebrows at her. He’d finally stopped pissing and zipped his jeans up.

“Only one way out of here,” Cam said, looking at the dumpsters again.

“No,” Kelly said. “No way. I am not jumping into a pile of trash!”

“Suit yourself. Those guys look real friendly,” Cam said, boosting himself over the railing and landing in a heap amongst the smelly garbage bags.

“C’mon! I’ll catch you!” Cam called up to her, standing up in the dumpster.

“Oh, fuck it,” Kelly muttered to herself, before throwing herself over the railing. She landed in Cam’s arms and they both fell backwards, Kelly on top of Cam. They stared at each other for a long time, before Cam took Kelly’s face in both of his hands and kissed her, right there in the dumpster. They broke apart, and Kelly just stared at him.

“I can’t believe I just kissed a guy in a fucking dumpster,” she said. Cam smiled.

“What can I say? I’m a die-hard romantic.” He helped her out of the dumpster and they stumbled out onto the main street out the front of the club together, hand in hand. It was necessary to stay upright in their drunken state, though Kelly quite enjoyed the contact.

“There’s the van! Jolly good!” Cam said in a fake British accent. Kelly laughed, thinking of how Becca had been earlier. She let Cam lead her into the back of the van and sat down beside him, opposite Becca and Whakaio. Becca was asleep in Whakaio’s arms, her mouth hanging wide open. Kelly laughed at the sight of her. She looked at Cam, who was staring straight back at her and smiled, her heart rate accelerating.

“Hey, I’m Jenna.” Kelly turned towards the voice and recognized the girl speaking. She was the lead singer of the band. “I’m Kelly.”

“She’s Becca’s latest victim,” Whakaio explained with a smile. Jenna laughed and leant back in her seat. “She’s a fucking mentalist, that girl,” Jenna said. Kelly smiled and nodded in agreement. She settled into her seat as the van’s engine roared to life and they took off, exploring New York City together in the middle of the night, still trapped in their drunken haze.