Lit: A Story

Chapter Two

The opening program plays on full swing.

Holding my glass of lemonade, I try to dance gracefully. Tasha is grinding with Jude, one of her suitors. I give them space. It feels awkward to try to fit yourself. I move around alone. It is too desolate.

I return to the bar. I settle on the stool. The bartender comes over and offers me a shot. I refuse, showing my mobile phone. He walks away in disappointment. I have not enticed him; I am not guilty of seduction.

The music changes. My phone buzzes. I read the message. 'Dance floor'. I smile, leaving my glass behind.

His back rests on one of the pillars. His mane is covered by a hat. I see his lips turn up as I approach. He cocks his head when I stop. It is really fun to tease him. He walks to where I stand.

"Staying away from you is painful," he starts.

"How dramatic," I retort. He places a hat identical to his on my disheveled mane.

"I do not want Pierre to have both your eyes," he grabs my waist.

"Jealous git," we both giggle. He brushes the stray locks framing my face.

"Midnight, honey. I cannot wait for your full glory."

Then we part ways.

---

Half pass eleven; we are back to the sleeping lodge. The younger years are tucked in bed. The lot of us stays at the entertainment room. Bottles of beer are on the table, waiting to quench tonight's insecurities.

"Are you not going to join the fun?" Jude leans on the fridge.

"I am tired. I have danced all night," I answer, taking a bottle of water.

"With your hat on? I never thought you like hats. You seem to touch your hair all the time."

Geoff enters the kitchen. I ignore his comment. He always notices everything. Instinctively, I brush my hair. I see him look.

"Grow your own hair, Geoff," I reach for his short locks. He catches my hand.

"Nobody touches my hair girl."

Bloody possessive. I let his remark go. I place my hat to his head, but not before touching it with the back of my hand.

"I don't have to be your girl to touch your hair."