Footloose || lrh

luke

Ever since the unexpected night of bonding between Ariel and I, we had became quite close and Ariel hadn't been talking to Jace since.

I decided to take Ariel, Michael and Rusty to a country dance a few hours out of town, as I was the only one out of the three of us who could drive.

I wanted to show them what every weekend was like for me before I moved here as they obviously never experienced anything like I did because of these stupid laws.

As we walked in, we all eyed the place shockingly at the size it was.

"Wow," Rusty gushed, "This place is massive!"

"Yeah, it's bigger than Beaumont!" Ariel grinned as she watched the crowd of people around our age dancing to the country music, having the time of their lives.

I wish the people who made the laws at Beaumont could come out and watch this, there is no problem with what these people are doing. How could it possibly be a crime to dance and listen to music that isn't religious and holy?

Ariel grabbed my hand, as Rusty did the same with Michael, leading both of us out to the dance floor.

"Hey, I'm gonna go get something to drink." Michael said, dropping Rusty's hand, "You go out there and have fun."

"No," Rusty pouted, "I want you to dance with me, Michael."

"No I'm good, Go dance with those two." Michael suggested, pointing at Ariel and I.

"Oh god," She groaned, probably thinking exactly what I would be thinking if I was in her position right now - I'm going to be such a third wheel. But, that wasn't the case. I would gladly dance with Rusty, we wouldn't leave her out or anything but it was still quite annoying when Michael came the full way here knowing that all we really wanted to do was dance, and he wasn't even going to take part.

I went over to Rusty and put my two hands on her shoulders, "Go and dance with Ariel, I'll talk to him." I whispered as Rusty nodded her head, walking over to link arms with Ariel and walking out to the floor where everyone else was dancing.

"What's the matter with you, huh?" I said, smacking the back of his head with my hand, as if to knock some sense into him, "We drove two hours to get here, are you just going to stand around and huff all night?"

"I don't dance." Michael explained, as if it was the most difficult thing to do, "I don't dance." He repeated

I looked at him a few moments, to see if he was going to develop his reason, which he soon did. He leaned in so he could whisper in my ear, as the music was up quite loud and he didn't want to roar what he was going to say, "I can't dance."

I nodded my head in understanding, already guessing that was what his problem was, "But it's country line dancing! It's a white man's wet dream."