The Naive Rebel | ✓

♛| xxxvi-b : i am a goner |

What the bloody hell.

"How?"

"I don't know. I tried sobering and coaxing her to the exit but every time I do so, she starts shushing me down and-"

"And?"

"And.." His face lowers a little," threatens to kick me."

I stifle back my laughter realising that I have a more important matter than laughing over Sameer's misery.

"Others?" I question realising that Nikhil, Mishti and Garima are here as well.

"They all have passed out." He tells me showing the leather couch at the corner where those three are comfortably sleeping.

"You be with them, I'll bring her."

.

.

The dancing stage is glimmering and flittering with lights. The stage's almost packed and yet there she is dancing and moving and swaying and whirling and twirling, like there's no tomorrow.

And suddenly everyone around evaporates in the thin air, as the only thing I can focus on is her face-pleasant and rosy, the wistful mischievous simper playing on her lips and her eyes twinkling.

I try ignoring the soft smile making its way on my face as I saunter towards her.

The music shifts to something soft contrasting the loud rock that was being played throughout the night. The lights turn even dimmer, blue and grey with the calming silvery hue. Her hands are crossed over her head, her luxurious hair cascading and flipping and bouncing as she gracefully yet slowly and mindlessly moves in accord with the tune.

When I reach her, her back faces me and I bend to her level."I told you to ask about the drug gang and not to intoxicate yourself."

Her drunkard self is bouncy and on the edge as she jerks by the sudden whisper and turns around, fast enough to give herself a neck sprain.

"Oh." Her lips form a perfect 'O' after which she giggles.

"Yeah. Oh." I roll my eyes at her. My sudden intrusion puts a halt on her dancing as she stands still and most importantly straight.

"Come, we have to leave." I hold her hand and guide her towards the couch but she doesn't budge as she frees her hand and pulls me back to the stage, instead.

"I.WANT.TO.DANCE." She pronounces every word fumbling and slurping.

"Why?" How did the girl who fears even walking on heels is now hell-bent on dancing in them?

She utters some gibberish, weird noises and words, mashing syllables together. Her lips pucker out, her cheeks inflating cutely.

She chooses not to answer my question and instead, she picks my large hands in her small putty ones and places them on her petite waist.

My eyebrow raises at her, her hands still lying on mine. "I can dance in heels." She spews her words like a web, thin and white and rapidly.

"Are you sure?" My words have a taunting edge to them, thick and low. But, her inebriated mind doesn't calculate the underlying means and she nods almost so innocently.