That Night
A man in a suit was her weakness—mine too—and there were hundreds of them.
“Hell. Yes.” We high-fived and made our way to the closest bar.
Jenna ordered two vodka cranberries and we decided to move away from the entrance to a less crowded area.
Each step was a half dance—impossible to refuse the music and the movement it demanded.
Between the music and the throngs of people, it took a few minutes to cross the great space. Then finally, we found a spot and paid homage to the DJ and his sick beats.
I let go, eyes closed, arms up, every inch of my body surrendering to the beat. There was no pause, each song rolling into the next with fluid precision. Jenna and I sang, and sometimes screamed, al
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