SmokeLong Quarterly

She gave me her hips. Mine did their sway and we knew how to be sexy. Her hair was always red and I was blonde, the fake kind. We danced like we were equal, partly for my boyfriend. He was a bouncer.

We’d gotten matching tattoos the night before, had taken off the bandage. We figured it was dumb, but you’re allowed to be dumb once, and it’s good to be reminded. We liked to have fun.

In the bar, my boyfriend wasn’t really a boyfriend, though he was the closest thing to a boyfriend. She was indifferent about him. I’d slept with him enough to know he was worth spending time with.

There was the music, and oh, up there, here was my friend. I loved her like my sister. I wanted to lie in bed with her like I used to with my sister. I wanted to smell her hair. We’d told each other secrets. We used to wake up tangled.

The music was unsteady. She pulled me in, then kissed me. I looked down on my boyfriend. He seemed to admire us.

We were there, on the floor, doing it. The music was boom-boom-booming into the heart of me.