The girl on the dance floor

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I like it in here. Blue-ish lights dimly light the place; it's aesthetically pleasing and gives me a sense of comfort, for some reason. The music is nice, most of the time, and I know Jake is cool with it, even though it's not his usual genre. Right now, a sexy song is playing. I'm sitting on a tall stool by the bar, beer in hand, head thrown back and eyes closed, trying to absorb every note from the melody.

I take the beer to my lips and the warm liquid running down my throat makes me feel sick. I turn to the man beside me to see if he wants another one too, but his eyes are intense, trained on something ahead, mouth slightly agape. I follow his gaze, well aware of what I'm going to find.

On the dance floor, a curvy figure stands out from the rest of the dancing bodies. And she's looking back at us. Well, she's looking at him. Her body moves sensually with the music, her hands slide across the sides of her body, finding her long, dark hair at times. It's sexy, alluring. When she bites her bottom lip, a breath gets caught inside my throat and I know Jake is as affected by it as me – if not more.

"Come on, Jake," I say. "You have to go talk to her." There's no verbal reply. Instead of saying anything, Jake looks at me and shakes his head slightly before turning to her again. "Dude, it's been a month. Since when are you afraid of talking to girls?"

"I'm not afraid," he says simply, taking the beer to his lips. He coughs after swallowing it, contorting his face in disgust.

"Go talk to her then," I say, defiant. "Or I will." That seems to catch him. Jake finally looks at me again, but there's something different glowing in his eyes this time. Hope? "Oh my God. You want me to go talk to her, don't you?"

"I mean, it would be nice if you did." I huff a laugh, feeling like a teenager again.

"What's gotten into you?" I ask. "Last time you needed me to talk to a girl for you we were like 14. What happened to your confidence, fuckboy?"

"She's intimidating," is all he says. I have to admit he's right, but I would only accept that excuse if it wasn't so clear the attraction is mutual.

Jake and I come here every Saturday without fail. As I said, we enjoy the place; it is a block away from our apartment and the beer is cheap enough for us to give ourselves this weekly treat. Most nights we just drink together, enjoying each other's company; sometimes, one of us - or both - end up taking someone home. However, a month ago, this beautiful, sexy creature started to show up without fail as well, and watching her dance from the bar became our thing. And she watches us back.

Right there from the dance floor, she pierces holes in our skin with her intense green eyes, biting her lip and throwing her hair to the side. She's very intimidating, I'll give him that, but she definitely wants him, too.

"Alright, I'm going." I get up from the stool and finish my disgustingly warm beer, before pointing a finger to Jake's chest. "But you owe me a big one."

I was very confident about all of this when I gave the first step towards her, but the blue lights that once provided me comfort, now intimidate me. As I walk to that beautiful girl, it doesn't feel like I'm doing Jake a favor, it feels like I'm the one who wants to take her home. I guess that is because, deep down, I do.

Jake was the first one to see her and was interested immediately. I was just someone he could rant about how fond of her he was, and I being a good friend, was there to listen. But she caught my attention, too. Watching her wasn't just me keeping Jake company, I'm as mesmerized by her as he is.

She knows I'm going to her; those green eyes follow me the whole way to the dance floor. There's a smirk on her face and she walks a couple of steps in my direction, hurrying our encounter.

Under the Blue Lights // Jake KiszkaWhere stories live. Discover now