Every time you make a move

The sight of you

A little later on in the night Monica began to feel a little tired. Paula was still on the floor with Derek, swirling around to How deep is your love by The Beegees, a song that Monica had very much grown sick of.

 Of course she was happy to see her friend having fun, more than happy in fact considering that Belfast was so unsafe that it had nowhere to go out and have a good time, but she herself was starting to feel a little out of place, and she didn't necessarily want to spend the night in the hotel on her own. The way Paula danced with Derek, to that song which was especially overplayed, she looked lost, and happy.

"I wonder what I can do when I get home now that Paula probably isn't going to be there... watch TV in the room maybe... hopefully there will be a film on..." Monica pondered to herself, planning her evening ahead as she sat in one of the seating booths at the end of the room and sipped her double vodka.

Alone in her thoughts, she failed to notice the whites of two eyes directly across from her. She snapped out of her daydream and looked to find the figure of a dark haired man standing near the edge of the dance floor looking in her general direction. She couldn't tell exactly what he looked like or if he was looking at her because she was short sighted and hadn't got her glasses on or packed her contact lenses.

 But in the dim room she could just about see that he had black hair, exotic olive skin, a bright red t shirt with the design of a rainbow and that he was wearing a chain around his neck just by the way it sparkled in the disco lights.

She could also tell that the man was talking to a girl, a blonde haired girl dressed in a short ivory lurex dress, but because of the loud thumping disco music she couldn't hear what they were talking about and they were too far away for her to judge the man's facial expression; one thing's for sure is that the man wasn't smiling, and didn't appear to be gazing lustfully at the girl standing in front of him either like most of the other guys in the room would. It looked like he was trying to walk straight ahead of him... towards Monica... 

Every now and then Monica could see him lift his head away from the girl's face and look in her general direction again.

"What is he looking at?" Monica nervously thought as she took another sip in an attempt to appear casual.

Soon the blonde girl walked off, and even though Monica was trying to look away she felt the man fix his eyes on her properly. Then, she felt him make his way towards her, him weaving his way through the swirling and dancing people. 

As her heartbeat quickened she nervously looked around to see if there was anyone sitting near her that he might be heading towards, but there wasn't.

As she lifted her head she was able to see his facial features better. The deep set chocolate brown hooded eyes that bore into hers, his bone structure that was accentuated perfectly by the shape of his haircut, the juicy pursed lips. There was something ever so familiar about him, perhaps a famous actor or musician, but Monica did not care about trying to figure out who he was. At that moment her head was spinning. The way he gazed at her was making her tingle. She didn't know how or why. There was something about him-

"Excuse me, miss?" A man's gentle voice interrupted her.

Monica just looked up at him, unaware of what she was doing, thanks to the alcohol, and struggling to get the words out, "Ye-ye-yeh-hes?"

"...Can I buy you a drink?" He softly asked her.

That made Monica freeze, and worriedly the man quickly sat down next to her.

"Are you alright?" He gently took her hand in his. "I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I dear? I'm sorry I keep looking at you like that, only..."

The man trailed off when a weak, dizzy smile gradually appeared on Monica's face, and she slowly curled her fingers around his hand.

"He's gorgeous... and he's holding my hand!"  She thought, wanting to scream.

"Are you alright?" The man asked again, and Monica nodded, "Oooh yes..."

The man smiled gently then stood up and helped her up, "Do you want a drink, then dance?"

"Yes please!" Monica breathed, and the man took hold of her hand and lead her out across the dance floor and to the bar.

On the way over Monica couldn't feel her feet; she felt like she was walking on clouds. Now she wanted to stay.

He pulled out a stool and sat her down, and ordered a drink.

"So, what's your name?" He asked as the barman turned away.

"Monica." She answered, keeping an eye out for Paula, and luckily she could see was still dancing with Derek. "But since I was little I got called Mo..."

"Well, I think you suit Monica better," The man said, looking into her eyes. "I'm Freddie."

And as Monica looked back and blushed, bells rung in her head.

"I think I know you..." she said, sipping her drink. "You seem very familiar."

Freddie smiled, "Well, I can tell by your accent that you're not from here."

"I'm from Belfast," she explained. "I came here with my friend for her birthday... she's somewhere dancing with a boy at the moment."

"Ooh... an Irish girl," Freddie purred. "That explains your beauty."

Monica blushed again, and Freddie chuckled lightly, "So what do you do, Monica?"

"I-I am still in school but I'm planning to go to art college next year." She told him, even though what she was saying was only half true. "I got a place in the course, but I don't know if I want to do it yet, but we just finished our exams so I have time to wait for my results..."

"An art girl too..." Freddie sipped his drink, his hypnotic eyes fixed on her. "I'm an art boy. Well, I used to be. I do music now."

"Oh?" Intrigued, she set her glass back down.

"I'm in a band. We're called Queen."

Monica's heart quickened, and instantly she felt very silly for not recognising who he was.

"Wait! You're Freddie-"

"Freddie Mercury, yes." He smiled.

"I thought I recognised you!" She gushed. "I enjoy listening to your music now and again!"

This tie he was the one blushing, but he smiled it off, "Thank you dear. Glad to hear you're a bit of a fan."

"Well, what are you doing in a club like this?" She looked around. "Isn't it too-"

"What? Too tame? Not elite and stylish enough? Well, yes and no," he answered. "I'm more used to going to wilder ones... the gay ones," he said that with a hint of shame in his voice, "but I had a breakup recently, so I'm trying to move on and I don't want to be somewhere where a camera is thrust up in my face in high society, so that's why I'm here with a good friend of mine... but I don't know where she-"

"Freddie," a woman's voice behind Monica caused her to set her drink back down and turn around.

It was the blonde girl in the ivory lurex dress that Freddie was taking to not several minutes before, but this time Monica could see her face. Grey, wide-apart eyes, doll mouthed lips, familiar telephone eyebrows...