The Culture of Hooking Up

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

Taryne bends over and gestures for me to playfully slap her butt in sync with the beat of the song and her twerking. My laughter swallows up my attempts before I turn around so we can bump butts along to the beat instead.

The lights are also beaming along to the beat from the DJ's speakers. While Taryne's dark skin reflects all the red, pink, purple, and blue tones, my skin absorbs it all like picture filters.

Taryne grabs my hands and bounces her way into my personal space. "Blue jacket." She nods behind me, and I glance over my shoulder before I even register her words.

The guy she's referring to is standing on the edge of the dance floor with his hands stuffed in his jean pockets and two friends at his elbows. His facial hair is longer than the hair on top of his head, and even though his skin is only a shade lighter than hers, it seems to be absorbing the lights just as much as mine.

"Wish me luck!" She winks as she steps back. She tosses her hair over her shoulders and makes sure her hot pink top is straight over her chest.

I make sure to really slap her butt before she gets too far, and she only sticks her tongue out at me over her shoulder before going back to sashaying what she calls, "everything her mama gave her."

I run a hand through my hair already knowing it's a frizzy mess. The back of my neck is just as drenched with sweat as under my lips, but my little spot on the dance floor suddenly feels a little too cold. The line at the bar behind the head of Taryne's conquest looks long, but it's better than looking like bait to some guy's waiting hook.

The song changes, and the beat buzzes its way from the pointy end of my heels to the top of my head as the group of girls in front of me part ways. The lights pause on pink, but they spotlight a familiar mop of dark hair at the opposite end of the dance floor. His head lifts in a half nod as his lips curve up to one side.

I beckon him with the crook of my finger and a sly smile of my own. He doesn't even hesitate, but rather begins taking slow, sluggish steps towards me. His white button up shirt goes from green to red to blue as I pretend to reel him in with an imaginary fishhook.

"I saw you talking to your phone earlier," Jack murmurs once he's officially stepped inside my personal bubble.

"Stalker much?" I raise my brow but proceed to curl my arms around his neck. I decided to enjoy the burn in my throat today, and that tends to take away the "mood" Taryne always says I'm in.

While the crowd seemed to part ways before, it now squishes us both back inside all the sweat and heat, but we continue to slowly sway even though the song is upbeat.

"Let me guess . . ." Jack leans in as my fingers continue to scratch into the wisps of hair on the back of his neck. "More superwoman business?"

My lips quiver but I only shake my head and pull away to start dancing a little faster. I don't let go of his hands, and he continues to pull me in and push me out as my body sways along to the beat. There's no room for spinning. All I can seem to do is lazily swing my hips. It's like we're all a bunch of zombies, just bobbing along with the light beams.

It doesn't take long for the DJ to press pause, and the floor vibrates again. Jack pulls me back into his chest as the song slows to a hum. His fingers slowly trace the hem of my jeans, and the heat of his fingers feels scratchy against the black, semi-sheer chiffon material of my top. Even though my skin is sweating, my muscles are frozen as his fingers trail along the sides of my spine.

His shirt feels cool under the palms of my hands as I slowly trace over the expand of his chest as he inhales. I can't help but flip up his collar and dig my hands into the hair at the back of his head because the burn in my throat can't tolerate any sign of perfection amongst all the alcohol and heat.

I can see all the movement behind me reflected in his eyes before I find my self lulled towards the light pink pout of his lips. I go back and forth between his dark eyes and light lips all the while his eyes seem to fall into a similar pattern on my face. I can feel the heavy beat of the music, pulsing in my legs, but I can no longer hear anything. Our foreheads fall together, and there's just him and me, and the little space between each inhale of our chests.