Chapter Seven
A few months into my brand new, hovering father free existence (sans the mandatory calls), I felt pretty good about my life. The school work was hard but interesting and I was learning as much after the lectures as I was learning during. I cultivated both friendships and industry contacts, Chester, the social butterfly that he was, helping me with both.
“A rave?” I asked, as the red-haired man told me about his group of friends, cobbled from different years and possibly even different universities, that was planning to go to a club.
“Kinda? Close enough.” He waved an uncaring hand. “There will be some electronic music, but I’m pretty sure they play pop and rock and whatever takes their fancy as well, so it’s more like a disco than a rave. But listen, listen! The important thing is there’s gonna be fluorescent paint .”
“On… walls?”
“On people!” Chester grinned wide because he knew he had me.
A few days later, it turned out that while getting all three of the cats I liked in the same place was next to impossible to do, gathering all three of my neighbors was pretty easy. Though, honestly, I expected to catch them together at their flat I frequently visited, before meeting the trio like this.
“You didn’t warn me your roommates are coming!” I dragged Chester to the side to hiss at him accusingly. “What am I supposed to do with… with all of this?”
I gestured feebly at Rowan, who wore black leather pants and a freaking mesh shirt . I could see his nipples! They were standing at attention because it was cold in the queue to the club. And don’t get me started on Elijah. He wore all white . Pure white loose pants and a white vest. All that knowing his clothes were going to get dirty with the fluorescent paint. He practically made himself into a target! A walking, sexy target. Gods, I wanted to dirty him up.
Compared to the two men, Chester looked almost unremarkable in his red jeans and a t-shirt proclaiming him a Hard Twerking Citizen. But the moment he gave me his mischievous smile I found him as hard to ignore as the other two men.
“They clean up good, eh? You’re welcome.” Chester winked at me, proving my theory he had something to do with the two other men looking like sin. “And as for what you are supposed to do with someone sexy… find me later and I can demonstrate.”
He skipped back to his companions, leaving me speechless.
When I finally got inside and joined the buzzing crowd waiting for the fluorescent paints to be passed around, I decided this was the worst kind of experience. Have you ever been to a restaurant where all the dishes looked amazing but you could pick only one of them? That was my current situation. The club was chock full of young, spry bodies, often dressed to entice, but my eyes inevitably slid back to the three familiar shapes.
It’s not like I didn’t know how attractive they were before, but now it was in my face. Sometimes literally, as Chester was challenged to put his mouth where his shirt was and started twerking. Right in front of my salad! I almost did a spit take of the fruity drink I was holding when I saw that squeezable butt being put to good use.
A second later I was distracted by an arm thrown around my shoulders and looked at Rowan with surprise. His eyes flicked to the side, and I followed his gaze to a group of giggling girls who now were regarding me with jealousy, pouts on their pretty faces.
“Did you just use me as a shield against fangirls?” I asked disbelievingly.
Rowan shrugged, not at all apologetic for using me as a tactical diversion. I could feel the movement intimately, as he still didn’t take his arm away. There were muscles under that arm. They shifted enticingly. It was driving me mad. I couldn’t just stand there, so I grabbed at the mesh shirt and pulled mister dark, tall, and handsome to the dance floor.
“Payment for my protection,” I said gruffly.
“Mafia?” Rowan asked amusedly, as short worded as usual.
“What, you don’t think I would make a good mafioso?” I challenged, making a James Bond pose, my hands held in the shape of a gun.
Rowan lifted his brow, and I knew he was mocking my very non-mafioso look. Alright, so maybe a colorful tie-dye crop top with a short black skirt and blue leggings underneath wasn’t the most terrifying of outfits. I left most of my extensive wardrobe back at my dad’s mansion and had to do with what I had. The plan was to go on a clothing shopping spree under the guise of starting my new life — new clothes, new you, and all that — but I was too busy to make good on that promise to myself.
“I’m in disguise,” I shot back and Rowan nodded and mimed zipping his lips.
When the bass notes of a new song dropped, the man rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck as if he were preparing for a fight before he offered his hand to me.
The first twirl nearly made me stumble, but then I laughed and found the rhythm of the fast, energetic song. Rowan led as if he had expectations of me. Every fast step, every mirrored pose, or a lean against his body as he crouched lower and lower was a test. I thrilled in meeting his expectations but the times when I didn’t, when he changed his grip at the last moment to prevent me from falling if I had too little momentum for a move or dipped me in a pose to cover for my mistake, were the ones that truly stuck in my mind. He had mastery not only of himself but of me during that dance.
The heat of his body when he pressed close, those capable hands keeping me safe… I was glad I had the excuse of a few athletic rounds of dance because my breath was coming short by the time we stopped.
We stared at each other while the world around us fell away. It felt like we were on the verge of something. Something that didn’t need words but needed action.
I reached for him.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and other persons of interest, we are ready to blow your mind!” I let my hand fall as we turned to the DJ on the main stage. “Swing by one of the paint tables to get yourself started with our welcome pack! Remember folks, this is a cooperative exercise. Share the color you get with those who want it. We are leaving the bright light on for this song to let you get sorted and, when we switch it off and turn the black light on, we will see what you have done with yourself! Are you ready to make some mess?!”
A responding cry rose from the crowd and I joined in, though I was already looking around for one of the promised paint tables. Rowan tapped my shoulder and nodded for me to follow. We found not only our goal but Chester and Elijah as well.
“Quickly!” I hurried the men to the side once we had four different paint colors in our possession, one for each person. “Give the jars to me and Chester. You won’t regret it.”
We pooled our resources together and, as the artists of the group, my fellow student and I took charge of the designs. I had ideas, and I would not be deterred.
“You need to look fierce,” I pointed to Rowan. “Let’s go with war paint style. Chester, can you start on it?”
“Sure, but Lisa, I will leave my mark on you tonight, even if I have to hunt you down in the darkness,” Chester warned.
“Yes, yes, go, we don’t have much time! Elijah… how about we add some colorful swirls to your arms? Yes, that should work,” I muttered to myself, already dipping my finger into the neon green paint.
Elijah’s cheeks went on fire as I started drawing on him. I had to make every stroke count before the current song ended, but I took a second to enjoy the sensation of the soft skin under my fingertips. Four of my fingers took on different colors as I used them to spread the paint colors around in a controlled chaos of swirls and spirals. I liked having Elijah as my canvas. He was a work of art before I got my fingers on him, but I could add to that and enjoy the sense of accomplishment it gave me.
With a start, I realized the song was slowing down, coming to a close.
“Shit! Chester, give me your arm!”
I pulled at the redhead and frantically painted the design I had in mind on him, hoping it was going to be eligible enough when the lights switched to the UV, and steadfastly ignored Chester’s protests that he wanted to paint me as well.
In the end, I managed to brand him but he didn’t mark me.
With mischief in my eyes, I pressed my paint-covered palm to Elijah’s pristine white clothes, leaving a colorful handprint, then used the chaos of the switching lights and the DJ bellowing to get this party started, to vanish.
Chester promised to hunt me down.
Well, I was waiting.
With a bounce in my step, I fell into dancing, finding joy in the press of bodies rubbing against each other. While the borders of propriety were always thin on a dance floor, with the addition of the fluorescent paint they seemed to be blown away. A pretty girl put the first streak on me, a blue line down my arm, then a man left smears of pink on my blue leggings as he pressed his own paint-coated legs against mine when we danced together. By the third person, I wasn’t even sure who was putting which color where. The paint transferred easily and my own touches spread it as well, as I lost myself in the thrill of dancing and unstoppable human contact.
When Chester found me I was almost completely covered in green, blue, red, pink, and yellow splotches. The golden retriever of a man walked… no, wait, stalked towards me, cutting through the throngs of people, uncaring that he was forcing his way between dancing couples. I shot him a grin over my shoulder as I grooved with my current partner.
I didn’t get a smile in return.
Instead, my dancing partner cursed softly and backed away from me. Chester’s glare was fascinating and apparently powerful.
This wasn’t the always happy and ridiculous golden retriever I knew. Right now, Chester was a wolf on a hunt.
I felt that on my own skin as he herded me to the edge of the dance floor and pressed me against one of the big circular pillars. The stone was cold against my back as Chester leaned close enough to be heard over the pounding music.
“You let everyone touch you,” he sneered. “Dirty little girl. I was the one supposed to mark you and now there’s no space on your body free from the touch of others.”
Chester may not be nice now, but he was still as intense as always. Everything the redhead felt he felt strongly and apparently that translated to jealousy. The green-eyed monster had him firmly in his grasp and I basked in my success.
In a great mood, I let myself relax in his possessive grasp.
“There is. A space no one else has touched,” I clarified at his look. “Put the paint on your fingers.”
Chester glared at me as if he wasn’t sure if he could trust my new scheme but took the little jar of red paint from his pocket and coated the fingers of his right hand with it.
My throat bobbed as I swallowed before reaching for his wrist and directing his hand to where he could mark me.
“There,” I said. “Touch me.”
His fingers slid not only under my crop top but under the sports bra I wore as well. His body moved closer as he used his bulk to hide what we were doing, to hide me from the eyes of others as his thumb circled my nipple and I hid a gasp in the crook of his neck.
“Hmm, maybe I will forgive you for letting those undeserving people touch you. Now, tell me, where else can I touch you?”
“Greedy!” I laughed, then moaned as he cupped my breast with his whole hand. “Who said you can touch anywhere else?”
“Then I have to make the best of what I am given.”
“Ah!”
The fucker pinched my nipple! The tremor of lust that shot through my body was too much. And my exclamation was loud enough that some guy was looking at us with wide eyes now. Flushing, I pulled Chester’s hand from under my crop top.
Despite our play time being cut short he still looked smugly satisfied.
“You tired of the dancing yet? Elijah wanted to try some of those radioactive looking drinks,” he said.
“Let’s find him,” I nodded. “I find myself quite… thirsty.”
“I bet you are,” Chester said with a cheerful grin. Ah, there it was, the cute doggo back in the place of the dangerous wolf.
On our way over to the bar I looked Chester over and then it was my time for a smug grin.
“I see my little prompt worked,” I said, gesturing at the hundreds of small and big hearts decorating Chester’s arms, face, and even clothes. The others may have followed my work after saying the scribbled ‘give me your heart’, but I was the first one to draw a blue heart right under the prompt.
“It made finding you harder when people stopped me to draw hearts on me,” Chester pouted. “I’m sure it was all a part of your dastardly plan.”
“Ha, at least one of you recognizes I can be an evil mastermind!” I beamed.
We found our companions near the bar when Elijah waved us over to their table. It had one of those circular couches and I was promptly squished between rambunctious Chester and sheepish Elijah.
“Got tired of the dancing already?” I asked.
Rowan shrugged, which I interpreted as ‘I could keep going all night’ and Elijah winced. I zeroed in on that last reaction, my brow raising questioningly.
“I’m not very skilled at dancing…” Elijah mumbled and seemed to sink into himself, trying to hide his bigger body.
“You see those three people there?” I pointed at a nearby group on the dance floor. “They are literally just jumping up and down to the rhythm. And those two?” I pointed out a couple. “That’s just making out with music added to the mix. You will be fine out there. As long as you want to dance. Do you?”
Elijah opened and then closed his mouth, only to get visibly frustrated when the words didn’t want to come.
“With you,” Rowan said succinctly, and Chester immediately picked up his thought.
“Ooh, Elijah wants to dance, but only with you, Lisa! Is that true, El?” the redhead teased the shy man.
Elijah collected all of his bravery and put it in one word.
“Yes.”
Then he promptly hid behind his hands.
He was so cute I could eat him up.
“How about we let those two order the radioactive drinks you wanted to try, and we hit the dance floor in the meantime?”
“I will order the drinks!” Chester offered, standing up and conveniently unblocking my way out.
I squeezed out from the booth and Elijah followed, even if there was a flicker of trepidation in his gaze.
My hand found his and I squeezed it reassuringly as I led us far enough away we didn’t have to worry about familiar eyes watching our every move.
The song that was playing was nothing more edgy than pop music so I jumped straight into the rhythm, starting with just the simplest moves as me and Elijah faced each other, not wanting to overwhelm the poor man with the kind of acrobatics I practiced with Rowan. There was a bead of sweat sneaking down the brown-haired man’s temple even before we properly got going, and I noticed Elijah was watching me like a hawk, repeating any new move I made instead of trying to complement it. That wasn’t bad per se, but I wondered… I started adding more complicated moves that required both good memorization and reflexes and Elijah copied nearly all of them flawlessly. That was impressive.
“Let’s try this,” I sent a dimpled smile in his direction before I jumped next to him, switching my position so that we were side by side. “You are pretty good at synchronized dancing so I think you will learn some of the meme dances easily. Just repeat after me.”
Turned out repetition and structure were Elijah’s friends and once he got a dance down there was a bounce in his step. By the time Rowan came to fetch us for the drinks Elijah was flushed from the exertion but grinning. I think it raised his confidence when a group of students spotted us doing a dance from a recent movie and joined us, creating a group around us and letting Elijah lead the dance.
“That was fun,” the writer shared as we slipped back into the booth. “Much less stressful than dancing with someone and having to come up with my own moves.”
“I will teach you more dances next time,” I promised. “But we need to do one thing first.”
“What’s that?” Elijah asked politely.
“You need to know where those dances came from, duh!” I grinned. “I will show you all the games, shows, performances, and tiktoks that were the origin of the best and funniest dances.”
“You want to assign me homework?” Elijah asked dryly.
“It’s not homework if it’s fun!”
“Young lady, you are not getting my friend into Fortnite,” Chester said sternly.
“What? Afraid he will be better at it than you?” I shot back.
“Git gud,” Rowan piped up from his corner.
We high-fived while Chester groaned and Elijah looked amused.
The arrival of the radioactive drinks pushed the conversation to nuclear wastelands of the cyberpunk future. The topic swiftly turned into zombie apocalypse scenarios and speculations about who would have the best chance to survive such an ordeal.
I shook my head, smiling to myself and sipping my neon green drink as the three men bickered. This evening was turning out to be truly wonderful. Shame they had some wrong opinions.
I slammed my drink on the wooden table.
“Strap in, buckos, because I will explain to you how wrong you are. And why I am the best companion to have in a zombie apocalypse,” I declared, then launched into a long, detailed spiel.
The laughter at our table was louder than the booming music.