You loving me is my biggest flex

1.

(Song: Be mine~Ofenbach)
He rested his head on his palm. His long fingers tapping on his cheek.
The rhythm of the music swept across the seaside. The waves underneath the balcony roared and the seagulls screamed in the distance.
He was slightly annoyed by the sun as he pinched his eyes and sighed heavily.
It was supposed to be dark by now.
Summer came, and so came heat and light. Long days, short nights. What a bother...
He drowned his cup, placed it roughly on the table and waited for the alcohol to kick in.
Didn't take long.
Since he was invited, he'd just enjoy the free meal and the drinks.
What else was there to do?
Feeling the dizziness of the alcohol set into his bones, he decided to take a glance back at the dancing crowd.
The song "Be mine" from Ofenbach roared out of the boxes.
Half naked bodies moved in a rhythm same as the waves underneath him.
Sweaty skin pressed against soft fabric.
Slowly he stood up and moved towards the crowd. Unintentionally his hips began to whip.
He raised his muscular arms and pressed his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose.
"That's the vibe," he thought while grinning and swinging around.
The loud music made him lightheaded as he twirled around.
And suddenly his flow was interrupted by a sudden resistance.
At first he was kind of mad, spinning around at whoever disturbed his personal space and wanted to kick someone's ass. But when he realized who it was, his anger subsided.
He smiled widely, bent forward and grabbed her wrist.
It was Aresu. A glass of Lillet in her hands, spilled from him bumping into her.
He looked at her wet hand in his, bent forward and licked some of the liquid off.
"Delicious. I might need it too, you know?"
"I guess you don't... How much have you drunken already?" She asked and freed her wrist from his firm grip.
He simply grinned and took hold of her other wrist, as if to proof that he'd claim her no matter how much she tried.
"I like your buzz cut, Rafe. Looks fire."
She'd never have said that openly without a drink and especially not to him.
But now, now that she stood there in her tight black dress, a glass of alcohol in her hands and her hair messy from dancing and salty air, she was brave enough to talk to him. (That was way more than a simple "hi" on the streets as she normally did.)
She straightened her posture, smiled and took another sip.
"Dance with me, Grisu," he said stubbornly and moved closer. He took her glass, put it on the counter and laid his hands on her waist.
The music echoed in her head as her cheeks turned red. He used the nickname her friends gave her. And that simple use of it made her heart flutter in her chest. A warm feeling flowed through her veins like a torrential river.
Her skin was over-sensitive to his touch.
"I like that dress of yours."
"Thanks," she simply said.
"It's such a shame we rarely see each other. I'd love to see you more often."
His low voice made her shiver once again.