Blinded by Perfection

7- Dance Battle

Chapter 7 | Dance Battle

Okay, here's where thing get a bit . . . interesting *insert evil laugh*

HAPPY READING
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Let me tell you as a girl with the experience of a singular bog outing, parties are exactly how they seem in movies. So far, everything on the checklist is here. It's taking place in a really big house, there are kegs of booze literally everywhere, red solo cups covering every square foot of flat surface, people crowded to the point you're bumping someone with every couple steps, and music so loud and with such obnoxious bass I'm surprised the neighbors haven't complained yet.

Taylor and I walk through the chaos, wandering into the sea of drunken high school students. Unlike my black dress, Taylor rocks a red dress much more revealing than the one she lent me. The hem stops at her very upper thighs and the chest has a scandalous v-neck that leaves nothing to the imagination. Her beach curls are messy and parted to the side, a look that makes her seem what most boys define as "hot".

The main room of the party is the living room, which has polished hardwood floors and a big white couch sat in the corner, the kind that's shaped like a L. Beside that is a small glass coffee table, and above that is an electronic disco ball that causes different colors to glide around the room. Somewhere in the room is the source of loud dance type music, but it's so deafening I can't even tell where it's coming from. Its bass physically shakes my chest, something you only really experience at concerts.

"You want some punch?" Taylor yells so I can hear her, but her voice might as well be a whisper. I scrunch up my features, giving the universal sign for, What?

'Punch?' she mouths, nodding her head over to the table of assorted goodies. I nod my head yes and attempt to slide through the many bodies that had accumulated around the tables, but I soon find out it's an impossible task for someone of my height. I have no choice but to let her go herself.

I'm not going to just stand here alone while I wait, so I make my way over to sit on the fancy white couch. Despite the light color, no sort of blemishes or stains are to be seen. Whoever owns it must be a neat freak. I mean, c'mon, who gets a white coach if they know they'll ruin it? Even though I'm half scared just sitting on it will ruin it's cleanliness I walk to the corner and sit down. At least over here the music isn't as sound crushing as it is by the dance floor.

"Hey! Clumsy!" Shouts a voice from somewhere inside the crowd. By the time I trail my curious gaze in the general direction, a tall masculine body stumbles out of the depths. Once he's free he gazes at me with a wide smile, inviting himself over to my spot on the couch.

"Hey Axel," I greet. I scoot over a bit, giving him room to sit on the end of the couch. Unlike my careful approach he roughly jumps backward into the spot next to me, causing the leather to dip under his bulky weight. The action also makes my own cushion to dip, and before I can stop myself, I'm colliding into the side of his hard body.

"Touchy, are we?" He says, teasingly raising a brow. I smack him on the shoulder lightly, but I can't help but laugh at his goofy behavior.

"Not with you, ever," I counter, pushing myself back into an upright position. I make sure to move over more too, just in case that would happen again. The impact lowkey hurt, this guy is basically a brick.

"Don't be like that. You're hurting my heart," he whines, pouting dramatically and clutching his chest over his heart.

"I'm sure I am." I roll my eyes, though my teeth are showcase a smile.

"So whatcha doing here? I didn't expect to see you. No offense, but I wouldn't be here if I had a day like yours."

I sigh, absentmindedly running a hand through my artifical curls. "My friend made me."