Loving You // Michael Jackson Fanfiction

2- Get on the Floor

Michael

I got too caught up with talking to George I didn't notice that his daughter had left. He was rambling about his acting career and his upcoming movie roles but I could honestly care less about anything he was saying. The music was also too loud so it was too difficult for me to hear him anyways. He's a nice guy but sometimes he just likes to show off, a little cocky – you could say. I suppose he is just a very gleeful person.

Finally, after ten minutes, he cut the conversation off.

"Mike, I heard they got some of the best martinis at the bar and I've been dying to try them. Wanna join?" he asked willingly.

"I'd rather not, I think I already had enough drinks for the night," I lied. "But thanks for the offer. Have fun."

"I certainly will."

He was about to walk away but then stopped and turned back to me.

"Mike, go and hang loose for a little while. You seem a little tense. You need that, especially after a long five years making that album," he advised me. "Take it from me, a hard-working actor working almost every night and day. You'll feel amazing."

I took his words and nodded. "Sure, thanks, George."

"Alright buddy, got to go." And off he went and disappeared into the crowd.

I was once again left alone, but I used that time to ponder for a while. I decided to refill my cup back at the same buffet table earlier since there was nothing better to do. I drank the remainder of my punch so I wouldn't be wasting any more plastic cups, because I wouldn't want to throw it away, that'll just be wasteful.

Right when I placed my cup down and reached out my hand to hold the ladle, someone took hold of it first. Their hand was painted with white nail polis and her middle finger was decorated with a glimmering emerald ring, so it must be a lady.

The lady noticed me and immediately let go of the ladle.

"I'm so sorry, you can go first," she apologized, backing her hand away.

I looked at her and noticed that it was the girl; Camila, George's daughter. She had a faint smile on her face and it had some type of effect on me that I couldn't quite figure. My lips were frozen and no words came out of my mouth so I just shook my head and motioned my hand for her to go first. I had always been nervous in front of women, I really don't know why.

She smiled, nodded, then took hold of the ladle and scooped up some punch three times into her cup. She didn't take a new cup so that meant she already had a drink, I could tell since her breath smelt of fruits and vodka.

After she finished and I finished, we both stood awkwardly against the buffet table. The music was getting louder, and the party guests stepped up their dancing game.

"Michael, aren't you going to dance?" Camila asked, breaking the silence between the two of us.

I glanced at her. I've been asked that question too many times tonight.

"Um.. I don't think so. Not tonight." She took a sip of the punch and all I could focus at were her long fingers. They were so slender, just like her body.

"Why not? Isn't dancing your thing?"

"Yeah, it is," I laughed and bit my lip at my nervousness. "I'm just used to dancing in my own space. Like on stage or at a dance studio. Dancing in crowds and clubs are not really my thing, I get embarrassed."

"You don't get embarrassed onstage? But isn't it more likely to mess up and for people to notice it?"

"Yes, but, it's easier for me to find my zone.." I try to search through my mental dictionary for the right words. "You know.. like, my comfort zone and for me to feel the music. It's hard to really grasp it when there are too many people crowding all around me... Well actually I used to go to clubs and discos when I was... nineteen or twenty, in New York," I said. "But times have changed and now it gets too wild. I'm not in for that type of dancing."