Breathless

1. Almost

The room is pulsing with energy flowing from the sweaty bodies all pushed extremely close together. The way they move differently, but to the same songs, is mesmerizing. Their presence is like a drug, intimidating at first, but then becomes enticing and addictive when given a small taste. It is almost impossible to not join the crowded mass and move to the beat of the music.

Every time I come to the club, I feel the need to leave my barstool and join in with the hundred or more people and dance to the music, but one thing almost always stops me.

I'm only seventeen. Being here, in this club, is obviously all kinds of illegal. Fortunately, my best friend is a genius who can make a fake ID without breaking a sweat and the result is indistinguishable from real ones. So, all it takes is the small charge of driving my beautiful black Tesla Model S, and my tall, curvy stature, to get into Jungle with ease. Therefore, my age is not necessarily the reason why I almost never get up and dance.

It's the fear of what comes after the dancing that normally keeps me away. Because, you see, the majority of the people only have the courage to dance due to the excessive amount of alcohol in their system and with that amount always comes impaired judgement. With impaired judgement comes confidence and impatience. Now, being seventeen and unbearably single makes me a target for overly-confident, judgement-impaired men on the crowded dance floor. And, there is no way I'm going to end up like all the girls who willingly/unwillingly sleep with older men on Law and Order SVU.

After all that being said, do you remember that I said that fear of possible sexual assault almost always stops me from dancing up against random, probably thirty-ish, definitely drunk strangers? Well, tonight is where the almost comes in.

I used to have a boyfriend. He was so perfect, he was cliché at times. But, that is what kept me with him for so long, without asking any questions. I was just so stunned that a guy so perfect had chosen to be with me. It made me completely naïve to what was going on behind my back. After five months, I caught my boyfriend cheating on me and when he was caught, he told me it had been going on since the moment we started dating. He told me I was pathetic and no one would want me.

That, right there, is why I'm currently sitting at the bar in Jungle, accepting drinks paid for by gross men who are probably old enough to be my father. I should just get an Uber and go home, but the three shots I took say otherwise and I feel myself being pulled to the dance floor.

The air is humid and the energy is palpable when I make my way into the crowd of people. No one asks questions or stops dancing, but I feel eyes raking over me. I wore a small black velvet dress that accentuates my curves, those I normally keep hidden under over-sized sweatshirts and joggers. I even pulled my blonde hair into a high ponytail to show my face full of nearly perfect makeup that I never care enough to do. I know I look old enough to be here, just by the number of drinks bought for me, but the lustful looks thrown my way confirm it. I look hot.

There is barely room to breathe in the center of the club, though somehow I'm able to move my hips to the electrifying music pounding through the many speakers of the club. I can feel the heat radiating off of people due to our proximity and I should be nervous but all I feel is energy, confidence, and light. I give into those feelings, pushing all my logical thoughts down.

Time drones on and I don't know how long I'm dancing until I feel a pair of hands encircle my waist, knocking me out of my trance. I try to keep my eyes forward and just get back to dancing to the music, but the hands on my waist burn my skin and I can't ignore the feeling.

I'm met with piercing blue eyes when I spin around and see who's attached to the hands at my waist. The guy holding me takes my breath away. His blue eyes are filled with amusement and lust as they study my body and face as well. He has a small freckle under his right eye and lots of freckles on his nose. I can tell my stare boosts his ego because his full pink lips twist into a smirk. My eyes wander back up his handsome face and I gaze at his golden-brown hair. It looks so soft and fine and I have the urge to run my hands through it.