It was cool. Because I was doing my thing and you were doing yours. I saw you. But I’m the type to stand back. Observe. Gather. Proceed accordingly.
It was the rhythm of the motion. The bass pounding through the speakers deafening the sounds of anything you said. The room was dark with flashing strobe lights. You came to my vicinity and offered a drink or two. But you disappeared into the swallows of the girls getting down and dirty. That was that.
But then to my surprise, there you were again. You took my hand and against my better judgement I took yours. We created this push and pull and all night we just pushed and pulled. You spun me around and your piercing eyes never deviated from my insecurity. But I smiled through it.
The roof was on fire but we let it burn. The rising heat was electric. I took off my jacket and we just laughed as we pushed and we pulled. A week later, I realized that I was the only one willing to dance with fire. I didn’t mind the heat for once because it’s been cold all winter. But then the lights came on and the music faded. It was all fun and games until the party was over. And when the party was over, who was I dancing with? I looked around and I realized everyone went back to their places. I put on my jacket. I put on a smile and erected my posture with pride. Never let them see you sweat.