MaLuke

Chapter 15

The inside was very spacious (not that I was claustrophobic), and I couldn't even tell where the basketball rings were. The floor was carpeted with some kind of floor mat that reflected the spotlights that were installed the last time I was in the court. The place looked very much like a club, except the mini-bar that stood to the left was serving punch, sodas, and the lot, instead of vodka and tequila.

"You want a drink?" Zayn spoke into my ears over the pounding techno the reverted around the area. I contained a shiver from his lips coming slightly in contact with my ears. He knew he had the effect on me, and he never hesitates to use it. Not that I wanted him to stop.

"Sure." We shoved our way past dancing bodies and teenagers making out in discreet/not so discreet corners of the room. I wonder if the teachers noticed, or did they not care. Back at my old school, we had this thing called the "thirty centimetre rule". It states the members of the opposite sex should not be close together than thirty centimeters. I was probably only fifteen centimeters away from Zayn.

We walked to the bar and I leaned casually against the table. Randy, a boy from my chemistry class was the bartender. He was dressed in neon colors, complete with glow in the dark ray bans. It was quite the look. Unlike drinks to be in bowls or coolers, he was the one serving them. Swinging the bottles around, tossing straws, and sliding glasses. Pretty impressive. He should get a part time job in a club as a bartender.

"Can I have a coke please?" I requested the bartender. A few seconds later, a can came flying down the table and Into my palm. It was open, and a straw hung out with half a lemon. A quick nod to him to acknowledge my thanks, but he was already sliding drinks to other kids. I shrugged and turned to Zayn.

"You want to dance?" Zayn asked me. I looked at him twice to see if he was joking. The last time I saw him dance, he practically was stiffer than a stick.

"You kidding me. You've got two left feet." I accused him. He feigned a look of surprise and took my coke from me. Finishing it all in one gulp, he slid it to the end of the table where a metal bin stood await.

"Then you have nothing to worry about." He grinned wildly in a childish maneuver, and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the dance floor. The dance floor was dark, the flashing lights didn't provide much illumination, they rather made it more difficult to identify faces.

"Alright then." The beat was fast, and the electric and bass guitar so loud my ears were at the maximum vibration. I started off with the moves, silently thanking the decorators for making the dance floor big. Zayn was just doing a simple two step. "You're lucky I'm wearing Jimmy Choo and not Converse."

After I did my part, I felt beads of sweat starting to form on my face. Zayn just laughed and took a couple of steps back. The dj must have noticed him, because the beat changed to a hip-hop feel. Zayn started doing the pop and lock motions. I stood in awe as he did a cartwheel and ended with a baby freeze. The crowd cheered for him as he stood up and swiped imaginary dust from his midnight black tux. I stood flabbergasted and speechless. This was the second time tonight.

What is wrong with me? Right. Zayn is. But he's so wrong that it feels so right.

I felt sweat coming down and I knew my makeup might be drenched.

"I'll be back. Meet me at the bar." Without another word I spun around and shuffled through the crowd.

In the bathroom, the music was drowned out and I could hear myself think. It was empty, save for some couple making out in one of the stalls. I could here the noises, so I did my best to ignore them while I worked on my face.

The sweat had almost reached my eyes, and I thought I wasn't dancing. Maybe I was sweating because Zayn was a too hot human. If that were possible, I'd rule him as the reason for global warming. And possibly global heating. I finished off with my face and scurried out quickly.