“Spencer, come on.” Ashley said, waving for me to follow as they walked away.

I shook my head. “Ashley I can barely stand in these shoes, much less dance.”

“So, you’re just going to sit there all night?”

“Yep,” I smiled, taking a sip of my drink.

Even with the music blaring I could hear Ashley mumble something about how she “should’ve dressed me in loafers” as she walked away.

The girls started out dancing together, but it wasn’t long before they broke off.  Rebecca started bumping and grinding with some dude who looked like a walking advertisement for a tattoo parlor.  Not to mention he had to be at least 21, which made me wonder if it was legal for them to be doing what they were doing. 

Cindy and Karen actually found themselves two cute guys who must have been friends because they kept high fiving each other when Cindy and Karen would “back it up.”  Of course, I did think it was a little odd that Karen picked a guy to dance with, but I figured maybe she was bisexual or that her fallout with Ashley could’ve turned her off women.

Ashley had disappeared into the crowd for a moment, but when she re-emerged I saw that she was now with someone: a red-head wearing a barely-there, tight green dress.  As revealing as my dress was, compared to her I might as well have been wearing a parka.

My eyes were glued to the two.  Ashley’s hands continually groped the girl who pressed her body harder into Ashley at the contact.   My breathing had picked up and my skin felt like it had been dipped in fire.  It wasn’t until I reached for my drink and knocked it over, shattering the glass, that I was able to pull my eyes away.  Part of me was grateful to have the spill as a distraction. I didn’t know what to make of what I was feeling and I was afraid of what I might discover if I did question it.

With my drink now in a puddle on the table, I walked over to the bar to replace it.  I tried to push through the crowd of people surrounding it, but I couldn’t get near it.  Every time I waved to get the bartender’s attention, someone would shove me out of the way.  After several failed attempts, my feet were sticky with spilled drinks, my arms were sore from the shoving, and my head was ringing from having guys shout “Kamikaze” and “Guinness” in my ear.  I was about to give up, when I felt someone’s hand rest on my lower back.