The last thing Hannah wants to do after an 8-hour drive from Atlanta is to go to a college party. She feels people’s gaze, but that’s the last thing on her mind. She feels everything - the collective heat from people moving together haphazardly, Baker’s skin against hers, their lips and tongue and teeth meeting, bodies melting into each other, swallowed by the music. They stay on the dance floor for multiple songs, hips against hips and roaming hands and quick pecks in between. It steadies Hannah, and she realizes that every time she feels she’s that close to floating away it’s Baker who brings her back to the Here and Now. She hasn’t needed those so much lately.īaker puts both arms around her neck, pulls Hannah close, seals it with a kiss as if asking if it was okay, if she was okay. There’s that split second hyper-awareness of her body and the way she moves, the kind that always lingers for a good minute or two when she dances alone or in a group before she tells herself to relax and give in. “Han,” Baker giggles as she motions for Hannah to join her, “come on!” Hannah’s convinced she’s momentarily lost her goddamn mind at the sight. The song comes on, and Baker instantly jumps from her seat as she moves along with Foster The People, one arm raised just above her head as her hips sway from side to side.
Hannah has stopped trying to understand long ago how Baker can make her heart feels like it’s going to burst any second, but tonight it hits her all over again: her stomach lurches, and all she can think about is kissing this person in front of her. Her tight updo has come loose now and long dark hair tumbles against her shoulder, strands of her spray-dyed silver hair glimmer against the lights. She’d taken Hannah by surprise by how effortlessly she could pull off being Tan in her French-tucked white shirt and denim jeans and white Lacoste. Everyone is lost in the music, the rhythmic beat thumping deep she can feel it reverberating through her whole body. People moving against and with each other in their Halloween costumes of choice - not a hot second ago she’d witnessed a Mummy and an Elsa grinding against each other before she turns away out of secondhand embarrassment.
The crowd looks ridiculous in a surprisingly endearing way, she supposes. That would usually be her cue to join in. Most of all, she loves dancing with Baker.īaker would jump into it after a huge grin and her declaration of how much she “loves this song” without fail. There’s something about it that always looks liberating, and she knows it’s not an illusion, too. She likes watching people dance - the way bodies would move along with the rhythm, not a care in the world about anything else, where everything is contained within the dance floor like a balled up energy glowing in the dark sometimes brighter than the sun, other times warm and glowing.
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