A slow fall

Chapter 14 - Lucas

"God they're so drunk." Bates said as we watched Caleb and his friend stumble back inside. "Should we suggest they leave, or just keep an eye out to make sure they're okay?"

I didn't want to stop them from having fun, and while they seemed drunk, it didn't seem to have reach the point of no return. As long as neither of them drank anymore, I was sure everything would be fine. I let out a sigh before voicing my thoughts to Bates who agreed. Many-a-nights we have been in the same situation, stumbling around a crowded room, words slurping, body moving out of sync with our minds. Alcohol was an unreliable companion, the bringer or both joy and disaster.

My friends and I had only arrived twenty minutes ago, coming only being a spur of the moment decision. Drinking wasn't part of our plan for the night, but having a full house, all my housemates finally together, the atmosphere sparked. When our mutual friends turned up, alcohol joined too. Laughter followed in abundance and the urge to dance guided us into the cold autumn night; A search for music commenced.

I was mid-way to tipsy, there was a noticeable sway in the movement of my body and an increased confidence and forwardness that only came with the burning liquid. I wasn't drunk though, and had no plans of reaching that point. I had progressed onto water, a welcome reprieve for both my liver and finances.

The number of drinks I had chugged before leaving should have made up for the change in my choice of liquid. The high alcohol content left a noticeable trail down my throat, staking its claim over my body. The benefit of that strategy, switch to water early enough, was that by nights end I was close to sober and my following hangover never felt too extreme. The downfall was that the level of tipsiness I had reached was hard to maintain after a while.

"Wanna head back inside then?" Bates asked after a moment.

Stepping into the club was like entering a different world. The silver light of the moon replaced by artificial colours canvasing the space in ever changing hues. The quiet hum of the late hour, only marred by the boisterous chatter of drunken rambling, soon became thunderous music. The words of people muted by speakers placed sporadically around the room. The calm of the outside now a frenzy of life, a dark room filled with eyes of hunger, words of lust and secret deeds.

We had left the main room soon after joining it. Our overloaded senses quickly hoping for a reprieve that was offered to us on a silver platter in the form of cigarettes. Neither me or Bates spoked, but the outside air beckoned us and we answered her call happily.

When I saw Caleb stood on the opposite side of the enclosed smoking area, I moved towards him without a second thought. He was like a siren, calling out to my lost soul and I didn't hesitate to follow his song.

When Bates turned to face me I nodded in agreement, reluctantly following behind him back into the nightclub.

I couldn't stop my eyes from scanning through the crowd, searching for the mop of brown hair I longed to run my hands through. Maybe that's too forward? My drunk thoughts or sober one's, I'm not sure.

The dark lighting in the room made it hard to make out anyone. The flashing of lights too infrequently and sporadic to discern any noticeable features. I knew he was likely on the dance floor, they had said as such before rushing back inside, though it was a place I tended to avoid. I wasn't a bad dancer, not really. I had rhythm and I suppose that was all you needed. I remember hearing someone in college once saying how white people can't dance well because they have no rhythm. The way I saw Caleb dance last time we were in the club proved her so very wrong.

The way his body could move was mesmerising and for a fleeting moment I wished it was me he was dancing with. Despite my aversion to it, I wanted it to be my body moving beside his. Was that wrong?