Melanie and I continued to chat as songs faded in and out over the speakers, though it soon became clear that she was feeling antsy. She shifted in her seat, staring at me expectantly whenever I turned to look at the mob of people dancing. I had a hunch that I knew what she waiting for me to ask but I couldn't bring myself to do it. By the tenth remix of a song we'd all heard a million times before, however, Melanie sighed, and I forced myself to meet her gaze.

"So, do you want to dance soon?" she asked, and I winced when I saw the hopeful expression in her eye. I reached across the table for my forgotten beer, lifting it to my lips as I shook my head once. Her face fell.

"I'm really bad at dancing," I admitted, sipping at the amber foam in my glass. "I have zero rhythm."

"You can't be worse than Parker," Melanie countered, and I followed her stare to see my best friend engaged in something that looked like a cross between a seizure and the macarena. Sophie stood laughing at him, though rather than copying his uncontrolled movements, she seemed content to merely bop up and down in time with the beat.

Most of the other couples on the dancefloor, on the other hand, were either grinding against each other or making out, and that's largely where my hesitation stemmed from. I'd never stopped worrying that the people watching me dance with a girl would think I was dry humping her, and Gemma hadn't done anything to assuage those fears either.

The first time I'd mentioned my insecurities about dancing to her, she'd shrugged me off and said, "Why do you care? You're at a party with a bunch of blackout drunk eighteen-year-olds; it's not like anyone's expecting you to break into a waltz." 

She was right, of course, and although I knew that most of the people at these events were too plastered to care about what I was doing, there was still a little voice in the back of my head that told me they were judging me. 

Judging me, and laughing at me behind my back. 

It wasn't as if I didn't want to dance with Melanie, because I did. What straight guy wouldn't? The problem was that no matter how much I may have wanted to, I couldn't do it, at least not without more alcohol in my system. I told Melanie that, too, though my words only seemed to make her more disappointed. 

"Just... Give me a while, alright?" I swished a sip of beer around my mouth and swallowed. "I need to get into the mindset."

"It's okay," Melanie replied, still looking a little sad. "We don't have to dance if it makes you that uncomfortable. I don't mind talking."

I hesitated. "Are you sure?"

She shrugged. "Whatever you want." 

I knew that she was just saying that to be nice,good  but... 

I pounded the rest of my beer and then quickly scooted out of the booth that we'd been sitting in, startling Melanie when I jumped to my feet. "Can I get you anything to drink?" I asked, already backing away. 

"A vodka tonic would be great," she replied, propping her chin on her hand. I nodded before turning around, though I could feel her gaze trained on me while I hurried past couples caught up in passionate embraces. 

I tried not to look at any of them but it was honestly hard to avoid; in the time that I'd spent talking to Melanie, the bar had seemingly turned into a sexually-charged powder keg. As far as I could tell, I was one of only three guys who'd brought a date but hadn't made a move on her yet. The others included Mattie, who naturally had zero romantic interest in his female companion, and Lucas, who seemed to be struggling to even talk to the girl he'd been set up with. 

"Scott!"

I looked up, a little embarrassed to meet Sophie's eye. The crooked smile on her face made me wonder if she could somehow sense what I'd been thinking about but I knew that was impossible. She waved for me to join her at the bar, and then motioned for the bartender to pour her another shot from the top-shelf bottle he held. Sophie handed the overflowing glass to me when I reached her side and then passed me a small plate of limes. I hadn't been a huge fan of tequila when I first started drinking, and I still wasn't; it had a tendency to make me do stupid things... Really stupid. 

Sophie apparently didn't share my concerns, however, because she smiled encouragingly. "Cheers," she said before tipping the liquid down her throat, and I reluctantly followed suit. 

The tequila burned going down and it baffled me that Sophie could throw back the stuff without even flinching. "I thought you weren't supposed to drink on your meds," I said to her, wincing as I set down my empty shot glass. Reaching for a second lime, I bit down on its fleshy green skin, grateful for the rush of tartness that coated my tongue and masked the aftertaste of agave. 

Sophie placed a hand over her heart. "Are you worried about me? That's so sweet."

I rolled my eyes and placed the citrus' rind on the countertop. "I'm more worried about what Parker would do if something happened to you."

Her smile faltered, just for a second, but then she reached into her tiny sequin-covered bag and pulled out a pen. "What's that for?" I asked as Sophie uncapped the ballpoint and drew a line on the inside of her wrist. 

When she was finished, she turned her forearm so that I could see four tally marks. "My doctor said that I could have a few drinks each week while I'm on this medication, which means, like, two, right?"

"I guess, yeah."

"Okay, so, I figured that if I haven't had anything to drink since the game on Saturday, and I don't drink anything next week, then I should be able to have six drinks today." Sophie seemed satisfied with her logic as she returned the pen to her bag. "That makes sense, doesn't it?"

"I don't think it works like that," I replied, and Sophie wrinkled her nose. 

"How would you know? You're a business major."

"You're right, but you're in luck because Parker's pretty good at chemistry, if you want to run your plan by him."

Shaking her head, Sophie looked at her wrist again before frowning. It seemed like she'd remembered something--something that made her blue eyes narrow in an icy stare. "Why aren't you and Melanie dancing?" Sophie asked, nudging me in the ribs with her elbow. I cleared my throat.

"I can't dance."

Sophie started to laugh, but then clucked her tongue when she saw that I wasn't joking. "Seriously? Scott, look at who I'm dating. Whenever I dance with Parker, I end up with bruises." She pointed to a red mark on her arm as proof. "That'll be blue by tomorrow. It's not his fault, but he flails everywhere. There's no way you're that bad."

"I might be," I mumbled, but Sophie elbowed me again, harder this time.

"So what? Poor Melanie has been trying to get you to dance for an hour now. Can't you tell that she's bored out of her mind?"

"She said that she didn't care."

Sophie gave me such a dirty look that I remembered why Parker had initially been terrified of her. "You're not dumb enough to actually believe that, are you?"

"I mean, she said--"

"Oh my God," Sophie said, her eyes round with disbelief. She grabbed my arm and shook it back and forth for dramatic effect. "Seriously, was there something in the water where you and Parker grew up? Like, maybe something that stunted your emotional development?"

"Uh," I replied. "Maybe?"

Sophie ignored me. "Listen, Melanie likes you, okay? The only reason why she isn't making a big deal about you not wanting to dance with her is because she's trying to play it cool. Guaranteed."

"You think?"

"I know," Sophie said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "You can thank me for saving your chances with her later."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"You're welcome." Sophie sniffed, and then asked the bartender to pour me a second round. When he handed it to me, I swirled it around for a moment, considering her words. As if sensing my lingering hesitancy, she added, "Take that shot, and then stop acting like an ass and ask her to dance."

"But--"

"Or, don't. Whatever." Her gaze drifted over to where I'd left Melanie and her left eyebrow twitched upwards. "Just don't be surprised when someone else does."

"What?"

"Nothing," she said with a knowing air, before gathering the drink she'd bought for Parker and disappearing into the fog machine's haze. 

I glanced at the bartender, half-expecting him to take my side, but he simply shrugged. "She's right, you know." 

Great.

Groaning inwardly as I downed the second shot, I exchanged my glass for the vodka tonic that Melanie had asked me to get. I started for the booth where I'd left her and then stopped when I realized she was gone. Confused, I pivoted slightly while I scanned the room, and then felt a flash of irritation when I saw Phil attempting to steer Melanie towards the dance floor. My gaze honed in on the hand he'd placed on her back, and although she was walking with him, she seemed hesitant, maybe even like she wanted to run away. Phil leaned in close while he said something to her that I couldn't hear, and whatever it was made Melanie's eyes widen in response. 

I approached Phil from behind, almost amused when he jumped a mile into the air as I clapped him on his shoulder. His expression filled with guilt, and he let go of Melanie so quickly that if I hadn't known better, I might've thought her clothes had caught on fire.

"What's going on?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice casual. Phil's answer came out like an unintelligible mumble and I watched his eyes dart around while he searched for an escape route. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he muttered.

"Here's your drink," I said to Melanie, passing her the glass I'd been holding.

She took it and looked down. "Thank you." 

Melanie sipped at the contents while Phil began to slink away. I let him go, but still asked Melanie loudly enough so he could hear, "Do you want to dance now?"

She blinked. "Are you sure?"

I nodded and a smile spread across her face. "Okay."

She finished her drink quickly and then set it on a nearby table, hurrying to the dance floor before I had a chance to change my mind. Nervous didn't even come close to explaining how I felt as I took a deep breath and placed my hands on Melanie's hips, holding her tightly as she began to sway back and forth against my body. 

I was nervous, and honestly a little excited. 

There wasn't anything overly provocative about her movements--in fact, compared to everyone else around us, Melanie's dancing was probably the most tame. Still, there was something about her closeness that made my breathing hitch in my throat; something that made me want to be even closer to her than I already was... 

We didn't grind to every song while we danced together, and it was actually her willingness to sing along to the lyrics that turned me on the most. Sophie joined us at one point and all I could do was stare as the two girls twirled around the room together like a carefree tornado. They were so different--in appearance and in their personalities--but I'd never met two people who looked happier while acting like total loons.

Eventually I grew tired of stepping on Melanie's feet and getting sandwiched between the sweaty bodies of my friends, so I took Melanie's hand and led her to an empty corner away from where most people stood. She looked confused by my abrupt departure from the dance floor, and as we stared at each other in the dimly lit space, I let out a long breath.

"It's kind of hot in here," I said, and she patted at her cheeks with her fingertips.

"I know, I feel like I've sweat all my makeup off." 

"No," I replied, "it's perfect."

The beam from one of the DJ's strobe lights cast Melanie in an angelic glow as it passed over her face, and in that moment, I think we both knew that I was going to kiss her tonight. Deep down, I knew that I'd been hoping to have the chance to do exactly that since she'd agreed to be my date, and now it seemed inevitable. 

It was the dancing, I think. It must have been the dancing--or, maybe it was the tequila Sophie had plied me with--but, for whatever reason, I couldn't ignore the tension that constantly passed between us anymore. I couldn't deny it and I didn't want to. Melanie felt it, too, I know she did, though she seemed perfectly composed as she studied me with her head tilted to the side. I doubted that she had idea about how messed up I felt, sort of like everything inside of me was being pulled in a million different directions.

The sad thing was that I knew this was probably my best shot to get everything out in the open. Fueled by a dangerous combination of gin and Patrón coursing through my veins, the anxiety that usually prevented me from acting on my dumber impulses was all but gone. I reached out to stroke Melanie's cheek before letting my thumb brush over her mouth. She breathed in sharply when I lowered my hand and wrapped a lock of her hair around my fingers. I tugged gently on one of her long curls, thinking to myself I could definitely see myself dating Melanie someday, and that was a weird thought. It was weird because imagining a future with Melanie meant that I must've given up on ever having one with Gemma. 

But honestly, Melanie wasn't just someone to flirt with, or a crush that I'd forget about over winter break; it had crept up on me somehow, but I knew that my feelings for her were real--even though I couldn't describe them. In some ways, maybe even more real than what I felt for Gemma. I never felt like I was playing a game around Melanie, and it was nice to spend time with someone who liked me even though my hobbies primarily consisted of drinking too much and screwing things up. Knowing that I didn't need to be more than what I was somehow made me feel whole.  

Melanie was beautiful, and I felt my pulse quicken when my gaze drifted to her mouth again. I took a small step towards her, eager to close the space between us. Her lips parted while I stared at her bright red lipstick, not bothering to avert my gaze when she looked at me.

Neither of us moved for a long moment. I was too nervous to smile at her, and too nervous to back away. In between dating Gemma, I'd kissed my fair share of girls, but the desire I'd felt during each of those encounters didn't come anywhere close to what I was feeling now. 

Making my mind up, I took a deep breath as I bent down, finally ready to admit that I'd wanted to feel my lips against hers since the first day we met--at least since the first time I'd spoken to her in Hines' office. I felt like a magnet being drawn to a charge, but before I could fully close my eyes, Melanie placed a manicured hand on my chest and softly pushed me away.

I couldn't tell if she looked more hurt or alarmed. "What are you doing?" 

Hopefully dying, I thought as my cheeks burned. Maybe I could play it off. "Nothing, you had something on your chin. I was trying to get it off for you." Before she could resist, I used my thumb to wipe away a smudge that had never existed. "There, it's gone."

If I'd expected her to believe me, she didn't. Eyebrows raised, Melanie regarded me with disbelief.

"Scott, you have a girlfriend."

"She's not--I mean, we're not official or anything."

"Ew, what?"

"I've told you before, Gemma and I are just..."

"Sleeping together," she finished for me.

"Yeah, but not really. Not for a while. We haven't done anything since--"

"I didn't say I wanted details," Melanie said, shaking her head. 

"You're right, I'm sorry." I reached for the same curl that I'd been playing with but she swatted my hand away. For some reason, the fact that she was turning me down made my heart race even faster. "I swear I'm not trying to be a creep, but... I just--you know, I kind of like you."

"Scott, stop."

"What?"

Despite the fact that her face looked flushed, Melanie continued to hold me at arm's length. "You've had a lot to drink," she said softly, though her voice was firm. "You need to think about what you're doing."

"I know exactly what I'm doing." I ran a hand through my hair, deciding that there was no point in holding back now that I'd opened the door. "Look, I'm sorry I don't have the balls to say this shit when I'm sober but I'm honestly trying to tell you how I feel."

"And when exactly did you decide that?"

"Huh?"

For a split second, I thought that her resolve might waver, but instead she took a big step back. Arms folded across her chest, Melanie bit her bottom lip. "Maybe I should go home."

"No, don't." I started to reach for her hand, but when I saw the look on her face, I scratched the back of my neck instead. "Don't go. Just forget I said anything."

"You have a girlfriend," she repeated, her eyebrows poised to disappear into her hairline. "At the very least, you're seeing someone. I mean, Scott, you still like her, right?" 

I hesitated, unable to lie under Melanie's intense stare. "I don't know," I finally managed to say. "I really don't. But, either way, that doesn't change the fact that I care about you, too."

"Okay, but she trusted you to come here with me tonight. Maybe I crossed a line by asking you to dance, and I'm sorry if I did, but I can't..." Something in my expression must have given me away, because she studied me for a beat, realization settling over her features. "You didn't tell Gemma that you were bringing me tonight, did you?"

"No," I admitted, knowing that there was no way the conversation could end well now.

"Why not?"

"Because--"

"Because you wanted to keep both options open, right?" Melanie guessed, and the lump in my throat became a boulder. The silence between us drowned out the pop song blaring through the speakers, but eventually she gave me a small smile. "It's funny, I know that I should be angry with you for that, but I'm not."

"Huh?"

"Alright, maybe I'm a little mad, but I get it, too." She let out a short laugh before sighing. "The thing is, it really isn't fair for you to lead me on while you decide if you'd rather be with Gemma or with me."

"I don't--"

"I'd rather just be your friend than be your second choice." 

I stared at her. "You're not my second choice."

"Okay, well, that's what it seems like, but feel free to prove me wrong."

Unable to get my tongue to move the way that I wanted it to, I simply mumbled, "I will."

Patting me on the shoulder, Melanie scanned the room while I stayed rooted to the spot. "I'm going to get you some water, alright? I'll be right back."

As I watched her walk away, I wondered if a person really could die from embarrassment. Maybe I'd be the first.

Of course, just like a vulture sniffing out death, Phil sidled up to me the moment Melanie was out of earshot. "Spectacular strikeout," he said, letting out a low whistle. "Seriously, that was painful to watch."

"Go to hell," I snapped, though I could only sound so intimidating when my ego had been publicly crushed into pieces. 

"It was like a train wreck, you know? Couldn't look away." He paused. "So, uh, is it alright if I try talking to her now?"

"What--are you kidding me?"

"Well, no, I..."

"Listen," I said, jabbing Phil's chest with my finger, "if you talk to me again tonight, I swear to God that I'm going to punch your damn face in."

When Phil scoffed, I curled my hand into a fist and continued, "I'm not kidding, Phil, so back off." 

"Okay, dude, chill. Sorry," he mumbled, looking like he finally understood that I was serious. "I thought you said you didn't have anything going on with her." 

Torn between apologizing and wanting to explode, I grunted. "Well, obviously I don't."

Before he could respond, I stalked off, searching for Melanie but secretly hoping that I wouldn't find her again until it was time to go home. As I neared the bar, I noticed that she and Parker were leaning against the counter. Melanie looked upset as she waved her hands in the air, punctuating whatever she was saying to him. Parker sipped at his beer, shaking his head until he looked up and caught my eye. He gave me a funny look but then lifted his chin as a signal for me to join them. Melanie's animatedness came to a sudden halt and she offered me a weak smile.

"Here," she said, handing me a cup of water. I thanked her without meeting her gaze and then downed half the contents in a single gulp. 

I didn't bother asking them what they'd been talking about when I walked up; I knew the answer. A new tension hung in the air between all three of us, and although Melanie spent the rest of the night trying to pretend like nothing had happened, we both knew that things had changed. Things had changed, and it was up to me to figure out what came next. 

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A/N: Sorry for the delay (and sorry for any typos, I only had time to make light edits)! Once again, school foiled my updating schedule. I will probably post again on either Monday or Tuesday (I've got a brief due on Thursday and then I'm driving up to DC for an interview) but I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. Feel free to share your thoughts/hopes and dreams/expectations because I always enjoy reading your comments. :) Thanks for reading! <3