Highest ranking
#1 in utopia
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"It's about how your hips move," the hand that sits on my waist finds my hip, his fingertips trailing lightly along the fabric of my skirt. "When you arch your spine," he continues on, letting that same hand migrate...
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If you press play when you start reading this chapter, you should reach the chorus when you need to. Happy coincidence. If not, just appreciate the song anyway:)
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Time escapes me, quick becoming an unnecessary measure. All my attention is focused on the way my body brims with glee, the smile that's aching my cheeks, the genuine laughter that leaves me. Though, when the crowd begins to disperse, stumbling out of door while mumbling incoherently after a glass too much of ale, I can only assume that it's late.
Even so, I don't want to leave and return home, back to reality. I'm having far too much fun here, with the disorganised dancing and the hectic rhythm of the music and the hoppy flavours of the drink. Never did I think such a different walk of life would be quite this enjoyable. So much so, even the thought of going home dampens my mood. Consequently, I don't spend much time dwelling on the matter.
Kian refuses to let me sit, not unless for a quick drink or a small moment to catch my breath. He's danced with me throughout the evening, spinning my incessantly, twirling me about the floor, even singing to me during some songs. Throughout it all, I laugh.
It's perhaps not completely false to say I've laughed more this evening that I have ever in the past nineteen years. I'll judge it partly to my lowered inhibitions, but I assume it's a side effect of the unparalleled fun I'm having, considering everyone else seems to be laughing quite the same.
Mika and Bug have retired from dancing provocatively, sitting themselves down, her astride his hips, committing to kissing each other with no shame. Of course, I keep my eyes averted but when I catch them in my peripheral, I don't embarrass as much as I did only hours earlier. It seems here, intimacy isn't private. Whether it be platonic, between friends, or romantic, between lovers, their closeness is displayed in feats of physical contact, hand holding, hugging, kissing, even sharing drinks. It's certainly a strange concept to understand, considering I've never had much experience in that forte, but it's rather beautiful.
A slower song finds us and I'm particularly grateful, desperate for breath. "Show me how you do it then princess." Kian says, holding a hand on my waist while clasping the other with mine. My lips twitch with a smile, now seeing how he's slightly uncomfortable with what is such a familiarity to me. I rest my hand on his shoulder and look him right in the eyes. Something really that I shouldn't do, considering they always steal away my words.
"You certainly need coordination for this sort of dancing Kian." I tell him. He rolls his eyes and tugs me so that my chest is flush against his. My words die in my mouth, silenced by just how close we are. It's the closest we've been all night and certainly the closest I've ever been to a man. I can feel him breathing, I can feel his heartbeat. I can feel the heat from his skin, despite the fabric that separates us.
