Page 75 of Summer, in Between
Paul stands behind me, his hand on my hip as we move in time.A familiar guitar riff starts.
‘Oh my God,’ I shriek.‘It’s my favourite!Let’s dance!’
‘I’m going to need a few more of these.’Paul tips his beer at me.
‘Ant, you’re up.’I reach to pull him onto the dance floor.
‘Woah, Italians don’t dance, you know that.’His hands rise in mock surrender.
‘Are you kidding me?That’s all we do!’
‘Not this Italian.’
‘Cavey, you in?’
‘Yeah, good luck with that.’Cavey takes another slug of his beer, looking anywhere but at me.
‘Paul?Seriously?I’m dancing on my own?’I thrust my beer into his hand and move through the throng of people, pushing when I need to until I reach the front of the stage.I jump and bounce and sing and toss my hair and it’s hot, sweaty, loud and fun.It’s so much fun that it feels almost impossible that I’m surrounded by strangers.The band gets to the chorus and my fist is in the air; I’m singing along with the lead singer who is grinning at me, and I’m grinning at him, and despite my half a glug of beer I feel borderline drunk.As the song ends, the lead singer leans out across his guitar, across his amp and over the stage and high fives me.The drums crash, the bass thuds through the floor and a new song starts.A hand grips mine.
‘Can’t let you have all the fun, babe,’ Paul says.
We’re dancing, hands entwined in the air, he twirls me and spins me then as the song changes, he pulls me close.He sings, his voice low in my ear, and it’s all I can hear.‘Never dare dreamed, ever me, ever you, ever more, your heart my core, my dream come true, my dream come true.’
‘You’re the dream.’My stomach flutters.I grip the back of his head and find myself on the very tips of my toes kissing him.A hand taps my shoulder.
‘Okay, lovebirds, that’s enough,’ says a deep voice.
I turn, ready to slap the living shit out of whoever has dared rain on this ridiculously sexy parade and I’m staring into the black-shirted chest of a security bouncer.‘ID?’
‘I left it at home,’ I say, ‘I’m a local, the owner knows me, I’m all good.’I turn back to Paul, but the bouncer moves between us.
‘If you can’t show me ID you’ll have to leave,’ he says, his hands on his hips, the sheer width of him blocking out the band above us.
‘Come on, mate, she’s a local,’ says Paul.
‘I don’t care if she’s from Mars,’ says the bouncer.‘Out you go.Don’t make me ask you again.’His face repeats the sentiment in no uncertain terms.
‘This is bullshit, rent-a-cop,’ Paul says.
‘Don’t worry about it.’I push my way through the crowd, trailed by my new burly best mate, face aflame.Standing right next to the door is Isabel Scuzzbucket Dillon.
‘Bye, Kitty Cat.’She throws back a shot and whoops.‘How embarrassing for you.I wonder how they knew you were underage?’
‘And you’re not?’I hiss.
‘Not according to my ID,’ she giggles and turns her attention to Paul, her hand on his chest.‘Paulie, let’s get smashed.’
‘Mate, not enough alcohol in the world.’He follows me out the door.‘Eff you very much, rent-a-cop.’
The bouncer crosses his arms and smirks.
‘You have a good night, kids.’He stands sentry at the pub door as the Neanderthals come pouring out.
‘What’s happening?’says Cavey.
‘We’re kicked out,’ says Paul.
‘Technically I was kicked out,’ I say, ‘not you.You can go back in.’
