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Y/N's POV.
The following measures will be read and voted on accordingly," your dad said, sitting in his chair in the city hall.
A curfew for minors under the age of 18 will take effect immediately. Minors must be home by 10 p.m. on weeknights.
All in favor say 'aye.'" A chorus of 'ayes' came from the leaders of Bomont. "Motion carries," he said. "Punitive measures will be taken against any individual, group, or property owner who organizes a public gathering where minors engage in inappropiate activities.
Such activities include consumption or alcohol or unlawful drugs, listening to vulgar or demeaning, amplified music or participating in lewd or lascivious dancing. All in favor, say 'aye.'" Another chorus of 'ayes' came from the board. "Motion carried." You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.
They're passing a law for no drinking? A curfew? No listening to music? That's ridiculous! "There will be no public displays of dancing unless supersized as part of a school, civic, or church-related function.
Outside of these authorized institutions, public dancing among Bomont's minors will be in violation of the law. All in favor, say 'aye.'" Once more chorus
. *2 years later*
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You got out the car with your best friend Amy. Just as you got out, a car blasting loud music pulled into the parking lot.
You knew right then that it was the new boy.
Your dad introduced you to him at church the other day.
You ignored the inhuman sounds from Amy and starting towards the school. "That's a nice tie," Amy turns and yells, earning a glare from you. "And don't let nobody tell you different." "Thanks, uh, it's y/n, right?" He asks as you turned to face him. Your name isn't that hard to pronounce but everyone seems to mess it up. "Y/n." You correct him. "Y/n." He repeats.
His brown eyes and perfectly styled hair, his small smirk it all..mesmerized you.
For the rest of the day, you found yourself watching him. Your eyes following him down the hallway, your lip catching between your teeth. "You've got a crush on him." Amy nudged you, distracting you from him. "What? No, I-I wasn't looking at him." You struggle for an excuse. "You going to the Shack Bar tonight?" "Of course I am, it's Monday." Shack Bar is a place where people come together and dance, listen to whatever we want. The talent in Bomont is astonishing, but it's illegal here.
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Later that night, you met Amy at the Bar out back, sitting on the back of her truck. Finally, the music started and people started moving.
You smiled, watching everyone start laughing and smiling, dancing.
It's been so hard ever since your brother and 4 other people died and those laws were passed, walking down the street there's a silence that hovers over everyone, a sadness in the school.
Your eyes found him as he watched him dance around. He was actually a really good dancer. Suddenly, he put a hand out to you, that smirk on his face. "Dance with me." "No," you said.
"You couldn't handle it." "Prove it." Smirking, you put a hand on his chest, pushing him back until his back hit a car.
You pulled the pleasure from your gut and pushed it in your dancing.
Dancing was your release. Everything you did always ended in a solve with dancing. All your anger, sadness, hurt, it all was gone after dancing. And you haven't danced in a few months.
You pushed a few moves on him, earning a few surprised glances from him.
He fought back, gripping your hips tightly, dancing along with you.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, grinning at him.
He leaned in in an attempt to kiss, but you turned away, blocking access to your lips. "Not today, loverboy," you smiled. "Maybe someday." "Alright." He spun you in a circle, a giggle escaping your mouth.
