When the Stars Align by Isabel Jolie

Author:Isabel Jolie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: contemporary romance, second chance romance, steamy romance, friends to lovers romance, friends with benefits romance
Publisher: Isabel Jolie
Published: 2020-01-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Anna

“The girls are out tonight!” Delilah belts out, pulling Stacy and me laughing toward the dance floor. We survived the manic, nonstop week. It’s Friday. After what had felt like one of the longest weeks at work ever, Delilah declared it a night to go out dancing. A cab delivered us to the House of Yes. It’s gonna be a good night.

The music pulses. Blue lights flash. Bodies hum. The packed dance floor throbs with a frenetic energy. This release, right here, is what I live for. The music pulses through my body, no cares or concerns to hold me back. Alive and young and free.

A college friend once told me I’d been born to dance in front of a band. I’d spent countless nights standing right in front of him and his band, jumping around, singing lyrics along with them, and dancing with the crowd. I’ll never forget those words because it’s my favorite thing anyone has ever said about me.

In New York, I’m as likely to be dancing in a club with a DJ as in front of a band. For bands, I prefer the small venues. The bands that haven’t hit the bigtime yet. Shows about the music, not spectacle. I love watching the band’s faces during the sets. The thrill of catching a bandmate’s eye. Sharing a mutual appreciation for the liberating moment delivered by their music.

A skinhead in black leather pants, black leather bracelets with silver spikes, a tight white t-shirt, and a nose ring dances up to me. He pulls my back to his front, his hands on my hips. We move to the beat together. After the song ends, we slip away from each other and find another dance partner. It doesn’t matter who I dance with. To me, dancing isn’t about meeting people, it’s about losing myself. Forgetting all my worries and letting go. Mr. Black Leather isn’t my type, and I’m pretty sure I’m not his either. Like me, he was there to dance. Likeminded hipsters pack the dance floor. Drag queens, men, women, grinding, groping, spinning. Lost in the music. Lost in the scene.

A song with a heavy techno beat and too much bass comes on, and I head to the bar. Songs I don’t like don’t come on too often at this club, but when they do, I take a hydration break. After getting a glass of water filled with ice, I stand back, searching the crowd to see if I can spot Delilah or Stacy.

I don’t see them, so I pull my phone out and check. No text from either of them, which means they haven’t been hunting for me. Three o’clock in the morning. I do have a couple of texts from Jackson.

Jackson: Hey, what are you up to tonight?

(sent at 10:30 p.m.)

Jackson: Are you still out?

(sent at 12:30 a.m.)

I smile. He’s worried about me. Did I tell him I was going out tonight? Wait. It doesn’t matter if I told him or not. We’re not dating, and I don’t owe him a thing.

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