Half-glass full and cynical Calista Dames can sketch out her life in a series of plans, predictions and preparations. She's the girl who knows what she's doing and where she's going, the girl with all the questions answered, the girl with a foundati...
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CHAPTER EIGHT
This Is What You Came For
Slightly intoxicated, Flynn escorted me to the dance floor with one hand on my waist and the other hand holding my fingers, steadying me on my low-heeled boots. The dance floor was congested with people and when we got onto the wooden platform, we could barely moved without accidentally bumping into other people or some goon who was carrying a shot glass of whiskey spill it onto me.
We got close to the DJ booth and that was when I pivoted, quite messily, to face Flynn. He smiled at me as I bobbed my head to the rhythm. I've never been clubbing before- the worst of my rebellious acts was sneaking out occasionally to house parties and that was mainly because Caleb, my one high school boyfriend, begged me to go along with him and his merry band of troublemakers, as well as smoking due to Caleb's addicted habit to cigarettes. He managed to quit at the beginning of our junior year but sometimes he slipped off the bandwagon, which was expected since his two best friends were the biggest chain-smokers of all time. But I held on to it. Mainly because it helped me relax and clear my mind after a bad day. I limited myself though, especially now that my Dad had lung cancer.
The DJ was spinning a new, totally obscure song that was probably his own remix instead of some other version of a Top 40 hit and there was a buildup of the beat about to drop, where the tension of the community of strangers was about to burst out of the brim, waiting from the bass to explode in a music eruption. It was strange how a room full of people who didn't know each had never been so in sync with the music. I never liked Trap before but it was mainly because I never listened to it.
"The drop's coming," Flynn yelled, the volume of his voice blasting in my ear.
"Everybody fucking dance," the DJ crowed into the mic and the tempo transcended into a new dimension. Everybody started jumping, hands in the air, feeling the music. Flynn grinned as the LED lights went crazy, flaring on and on, changing psychedelic colours into the air. I looked up at the ceiling and saw fog had been pumped in the air, mixing with the already-clouded air with vape and smoke from the e-cigs and cigarettes.
A girl cladded in a sparkly crop top and shorts swayed her head as she took a deep hit from her cigarette and grinned at me as she blew out a puff of smoke. Her eyebrows raised and she reached into her pockets, flipping open her case of cigarettes and pulling one out with her long fingernails. She offered me one and smiled, winking as she took out her lighter, her eyes dilated with that thousand-miles-away gaze.
I lifted it to my lips and she was waiting with her lighter, then she lit me up. Immediately, I watched the cherry tint of the cigarette flared as I inhaled deep and let the column of heat flow down my throat.
"Can I?" Flynn asked body close to mine and mouth pressed on my ear as the crowds began to close in or us as more people joined the floor.
I nodded and placed the cigarette on his lips. The lit end of the cigarette fizzed as he breathed the nicotine deep and tilted his head to bellow a train of smoke He gave me back the cigarette and I tried not to think about how our lips had technically touched since we were now sharing the same cigarette, his lips leaving a previous mark.
