Cammie rolled over onto her back and waved her arms in the air like she was swimming the breaststroke.
“Glory hallelujah! You’ve said the magic words.”
I grunted. I would have done it for her anyway. I’d be damned it I let my roommate turn in a business plan that looked like a Valentine’s Day card.
On Saturday I got ready with the precision of a spinal surgeon. Everything had to be just right. I was going to win this battle—be it with Mad Merlot lipstick and Sexy by Victoria Secret. At ten o’clock Cammie and I were floating up the stairs of the Zax house surrounded by clouds of exhaled nicotine. My head was spinning and my dress, which was a size too small, was hugging my chest like a boa constrictor.
“It’s a good thing you look like a normal girl,” Cammie said, smiling at me in approval.
“Normal—as opposed to what?”
I was tugging at my dress trying to cover the exposed swell of my breasts, which were rising like two plump muffins, out of Cammie’s push up bra.
She smirked at me and tugged the dress back down again.
“Well, you have those for one thing,” she poked me in the chest. “You’ve been hiding them in those ugly, outdated shirts you wear. And makeup makes you look sexy—exotic even. You clean up nicely my friend.”
I hoped so.
"Are you ready O?" Cammie asked squeezing my arm. I felt a little sick actually but I took a deep breath and nodded.
"Good, because this is going to be the most interesting night of your life.”
The door opened and we stepped into a room so thick with bodies and the stench of beer, my first instinct was to step back. Cammie shoved me through the doorway and toward a table corrupted with bottles.
“A drink first,” she said handing me a red plastic cup, “then, you do what you came to do.”
Cammie splashed vodka into my cup and added a stingy dash of cranberry. I was so nervous. I took a sip too large for my mouth and spilled the concoction down the front of my dress.
“Careful, Julia Roberts. The plan is to be smooth.” Cammie eyeballed me disapprovingly and I took another sip, carefully this time. It was worse than I thought. People were sweating and touching everything, breathing their alcohol breath into each other’s faces…germs! Horniness! They were acting like animals. I suddenly felt a rush of panic. This was too hard—being someone else. There had to be another way to do it.
"I don't think that I can—” I said turning around. The door was ten steps away. All I would have to do was dodge a couple of bodies and I could slip into the cool night air before I had the chance to humiliate myself.
Cammie grabbed my arm.
“There he is," she hissed into my ear. I turned. He was in a room to our left, playing pool. Raucous laughter drifted over to where we were standing and I caught the words “vibrator and locksmith.”
“Well, maybe we can stay for a bit,” I said weakly. Caleb was taking his turn. He bent over the table with hard concentration and knocked two balls into their pockets.
“What do I do now?”
“You have to get his attention without getting his attention.”
“I don’t speak girl games.”
Cammie waved to someone across the room.
“Look, just don’t be obvious,” she said. “There’s nothing more unattractive then a girl who throws herself at a guy.” This was coming from the same Cammie that rubbed baby oil on her cleavage every morning to draw attention to her “better parts” as she advertised them.
“How the hell do I do that?”
“You were the one who wanted to come. You figure it out.” And with that, she left me. Freshman scum. I hovered at the drink table for a few minutes then realized that I must look like a loser and wandered away. Okay, I had to do something to get his attention, to let him know that I was here.
I spotted the DJ’s booth and an idea wiggled its way into my brain. Dancing! My secret weapon!
A guy wearing a “Korn” t-shirt was typing something into a laptop behind the table. He nodded at me when I approached and his eyes immediately found my cleavage.
“Can I request a song?” I shouted above the music. He nodded at my girls and pressed a piece of paper and a pencil into my hand. I quickly scribbled the name of a song and the artist onto the paper and handed it back to him.
“My face is here,” I said reaching out and lifting his chin until he was looking me in the eye. He smiled and winked at me.
Degenerate. I kind of liked him.
“Yours is up next.” He shouted over the music. He gave me the thumbs up, as I sauntered away.
I eyed the dance floor with trepidation and saw the only person out there was a prematurely drunk guy who was shuffling around, winding his hips without a trace of rhythm. This was going to kill me, but that was obsession and I was going to do it. I took a huge swig, finishing off what remained of my vodka cocktail and summoned the memory of our kiss in the pool. The thought of it gave me a temporary surge of boldness. I want to be kissed like that again—possibly every single day of my life.
I stepped onto the dance floor as my song flowed from the speakers. It only took about ten seconds for me to take over the entire room. People simultaneously stopped what they were doing to watch me. I was good. I was really, really good. I silently thanked my mother for the eight years of free dance lessons she had wrangled out of the local studio as I twisted my hips in a complicated wind.
I’m obsessive, when just the thought of you comes up…
I saw Cammie’s face appear around the corner to see what was happening. Her mouth made an “O” shape and she winked at me with approval.
It’s not healthy for me to feel this…
Other people started joining me on the dance floor but they kept a respectful distance, swaying around me like my personal backup dancers.
“Looks like we have a hot one in the house tonight,” I heard the DJ say over the microphone. As more people started crowding around to watch me, I saw Caleb and his pool buddies emerge from the back room. That’s right, come take a look and see what all the commotions about. I let my hair fall seductively into my eyes and swiveled my hips in his direction.
This time, please- someone come and rescue me…
I watched his face as he spotted me and my stomach did a little dance of excitement. Bingo! Eye contact. Other than a slight narrowing of his eyes, his face didn’t show one iota of emotion. Dammit! I threw in my signature belly dancer shake and I saw with satisfaction that he raised an eyebrow. When Rhianna sang: Just your presence and I second-guess my sanity…I looked directly at Caleb and crooked my finger. He didn’t look surprised at all. He pushed himself away from the wall and walked casually over to me, hands still in his pockets. He allowed me to dance around him for seconds, smiling at the hoots and catcalls before grabbing me by the waist and dancing in-sync with my steps. He was good- all smoothness- like I expected.
When that song ended, we danced to the next one, and the next one. My hair was damp and sticking to the back of my neck, when Caleb finally pulled me off the dance floor. I held onto his hand as he steered us through the ocean of bodies and out onto the porch. We leaned our elbows on the railing, and let the cool air run her fingers across our sticky skin.
“You’re full of surprises.” These were the first words he had spoken to me in months. I savored the sound of his voice before I answered.
“Why? Because I can dance?” I lifted my hair off of my neck and looked him in the eye.
Caleb shook his head and did something with his lips that almost made me keel over.
“No. Because you came…because you’re wearing that dress,” he smiled, eyeing my cleavage. “and not because you can dance, but because you did dance.”