Slow It Down

Part 2 •REWRITTEN•

Natalie doesn't give me time to dwell on it. She pulls me toward the kitchen and I follow as we weave through bodies until we reach a counter covered in liquor bottles, mixers, and stacks of red solo cups. A guy I don't recognize is behind the counter, casually making drinks for people as they approach.

Natalie reaches for a bottle, pouring herself something without hesitation. She glances at me. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," I answer quickly.

She raises an eyebrow. "Not even a little something to take the edge off?"

"I don't drink," I remind her.

She shrugs, unfazed. She grabs a bottle of soda and pours it into a cup before handing it to me. "Here. You can pretend it's something strong."

I take it reluctantly, feeling like a child in the middle of a very adult space. She takes a sip of her drink before grabbing my hand again. "Alright, time to dance."

The living room is packed, the air electric as the beat of the music thrums beneath my skin. Natalie pulls me into the crowd, already moving to the rhythm without a care in the world.

I hesitate, my arms awkwardly at my sides as I shift from foot to foot. I don't know how to do this.

Natalie laughs, spinning toward me. "Relax! Just move."

I try, but it feels unnatural. My body is stiff, my mind focused too much on how I must look to everyone else. I scan the room, suddenly hyperaware of how effortlessly everyone else moves—girls swaying confidently, guys pulling them in close, people singing along to the lyrics like they're in their own world.

I don't belong here.

"I don't know how to dance," I say weakly.

Natalie rolls her eyes. "Neither does half of this room. That's the point!"

Before I can argue, she spins me in a circle, pulling me into the mess of people. "You got this!" she shouts over the music.

At first, I feel awkward. I don't know what to do with my hands. I shift from foot to foot, trying to not look like a total idiot. I try to relax, to let myself go, but the anxiety lingers.

But then a song I actually like comes on. Feeling the beat pulsing through my veins, I don't realize I actually start moving.

Natalie grins. "There you go!" she yells over the music. I laugh—actually laugh—because for the first time tonight, and in years, I don't feel out of place. I just feel free.

After a couple of songs, Natalie grabs my hand again. "I need another drink."

I follow her back to the kitchen, watching as she quickly makes another cup. She tilts her head at me, eyes shining. "You sure you don't want one?"

I hesitate.

She shrugs. "You don't have to, obviously. You can have more soda or something."

She walks over to the counter and begins pouring herself some fruity concoction, and it admittedly looks good. I've never had alcohol before. I've never even been tempted.

But tonight, I kind of want to.

I bite my lip. Maybe it's the music still buzzing in my ears or the way my skin is still warm from dancing. Maybe it's the way no one here knows me—how, for the first time in my life, I don't have to be the Lilah everyone expects me to be.

I want to enjoy myself, but my mind won't stop overthinking everything.

Natalie sips her drink, watching me carefully. "One drink won't kill you."