The music vibrates the ground and I can feel his hand slide down my back. I run my fingers through my hair and throw my hands back in the air. We bump and grind for what seems like hours. Girls and men blend around us like colors. Dresses rise a little to high for the orthodox. Perfectly curled strands of hair turn to messy waves. Heels lay piled up like my ex[s] on the outskirts of the dance floors. Some shoes glitter, others shine, but mine... they lay at the top of the heap glamorously dominant in pink. Exactly how I like them, and exactly how I like to be... dominant.
YOU ARE READING
Rebel
Teen FictionThey call me top bitch... but you can call me Cassie. Actually never mind, you can call me THE top bitch Thanks honey xoxoxox
