Clutching his hand with both of mine, I follow close behind and bump into him as often as I can, rubbing my front to his back. Making our way to the bar, he orders two lemon drop shots. I just smirk and shake my head.
Cocking his head, he hands me the shot. While grinning widely, he declares, “I know up until now you’ve only done shots to celebrate disasters, but here’s to changing that.”
As he clinks his glass to mine, I recall my earlier thoughts about my feelings for him and know for sure I have most definitely already fallen. He remembers everything I tell him, even the most inconsequential things. As I tip my head back to drink the sweet alcohol that smells of lemons, I think of Ben. I think of how many times I had to tell him something before he remembered it. I had chalked it up to typical male behavior, and maybe it was. Is River is the exception to the rule?
We order another drink, and he leads me to a high-top table in the reserved section just on the edge of the dance floor. We continue to talk about everything, but nothing at all. It is liberating and invigorating to be here with him laughing, drinking, and just having fun.
With the humidity reaching record highs, the ceiling above us opens just as the Enrique Iglesias song, Dirty Dancer, starts thumping out a seductive beat. We both look up in awe of the spectacular sight. As our heads return to eye level, our gazes meet. Bopping my neck and shaking my hips, I full out laugh when I hear something about a girl doing it one way and then another throughout the now open area.
River smiles his full mega-watt dimple smile before running his eyes up and down my body, giving me instant goosebumps. Glancing down at his feet and then at mine, he grins mischievously as he points to the dance floor and breathes in my ear, “You sure you want to do this? I’m pretty good.”
Checking out the scene on the dance floor, I see a bunch of drunken college boys making obscene gestures with their hands, a group of girls dancing like they have no idea what song is playing, and many couples actually dirty dancing. Having assessed my surroundings, I run my hands down my sides and grinning ear to ear I mouth to him, “You’re on.” I hear a sharp intake of breath from him before he grabs my hand and leads me to the dance floor.
I feel our connection growing stronger minute by minute. What was once an electric pull is now an electric force. I can’t wait to unleash the magnitude and velocity behind its force on the dance floor, on his body. The law of relativity most certainly applies tonight.
We are in the middle of a swarm of people, but I feel like it’s just the two of us out here. Having removed my t-shirt long ago, I’m standing on the dance floor in my black lace camisole. With the lights blinking on and off, I know everyone must be able to see my girly white bra. River doesn’t seem to mind though as his eyes flicker to my lips, my chest, down to my jeans, and back up. He grins at me as I lift my hair off my neck to help cool my extremely over-heated body.
Grabbing my hips, he pulls me closer. I snake my arms around his neck as Enrique continues to describe dirty dancing. As we start moving our bodies to the rhythm of the now seemingly very erotic song, I run my fingers through his beautiful shaggy hair. We move like we have known each other for years; like we’re two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly.
At first, our moves are innocent. A soft touch here, a light caress there, but the innocence passes just like the song. When Havana Brown’s You’ll Be Mine starts to play, it’s game on. I no longer just lightly run my fingers through his hair, rather I tug on it. I no longer just run my hands down his back, instead I wet my finger in my mouth and softly glide it down the back of his neck, and he shivers beneath my touch.