Unseen Strings

Chapter 3

"Hey!" I felt a tap on my shoulder. I glanced over to see the man called Marcus tapping on me.

"What's your name?" He asked.

I looked at him for a minute, "Angelina."

"Angelina what?" He took a step closer.

I instinctively took a step back, "Ruiz." I answered him while also side-eying him. I didn't want to be rude, but any and all strangers set me on edge, men more so than women, for obvious reasons.

"Angelina Ruiz?" He chuckled, "Are you Latina?"

"Yeah," I replied, my tone flat.

"That's cool!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with an enthusiasm that seemed misplaced. "My mom's from Guatemala!"

"Oh, that's nice," I murmured, raising an eyebrow. His appearance didn't exactly scream "Latino."

"So, where are your Latin roots from?" he pressed.

"Mexico," I deadpanned, growing increasingly irritated.

"Where in Mexico?" he persisted.

"Jalisco and Zacatecas!" I snapped, louder than I intended.

He seemed unfazed by my outburst. "Cool!" he said, his grin widening.

I rolled my eyes and headed towards the bar, eager to escape his persistent questioning. I was content to sit and wait for Laci and John, but before I could settle in, I felt another tap on my shoulder.

"Want to dance?" Marcus asked, a hint of shyness in his voice.

I wasn't in the mood for dancing. The crowded dance floor, with people pressed together, was my idea of a personal hell. The noise, the sweat, the constant jostling—it was all too much. But I knew that declining his offer would likely lead to either a sulk or a tattling session with Laci.

"You get one dance," I held up my pointer finger, "one!" I repeated.

"I'll take it!" He reached out and took my hand, almost skipping toward the dance floor.

I was much less enthused and anyone watching may have thought he was forcing me to the dance floor. Marcus, in his large height, caused the crowd of people to open about as he trudged through them. It felt like seconds before we were in the near center of the floor. There was an old disco ball above us, and it was the only thing illuminating the area.The dim light, the sweaty bodies pressed together, and the strange mix of scents were not my idea of a good time. Marcus, oblivious to my discomfort, began to flail his arms and gyrate his hips in a bizarre dance move. I rolled my eyes and continued to sway gently, hoping to blend into the background. Then, the music abruptly stopped, and the disco stopped giving off light, plunging us into darkness. As the crowd began to count down, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anxiety in the blackened space.

"1!2!3!" They shouted.

"What's happening!" I called out.

"4!5!6!" They continued.

"They always do it at 11:59! Until midnight!" Marcus shouted back.

"7!8!9!"

"Huh?" I responded.

"10!11!12!"

"It's supposed to be fun!" He called back.

"13!14!15!"

I felt my eyes roll up. It was a stupid thing to do. I just stood there, waiting for the small amount of light to come back on.

"16!17!18!19!20!"