Bound by the Moon

3.

It didn’t take more than a song or two before I felt the effects of the alcohol. It started light at first, the crushing weight of my thoughts lifting a little, but the more I danced, the more that feeling increased. Half an hour later, my head pulsed, and all the stomach flips from before turned into full-on gymnastics.

Uh-oh.

I felt myself locked in an internal debate on whether I should sit down and rest, run to the bathroom, or keep dancing until I got drunker and forgot everything my body was feeling. There seemed to be merit to all three options, but my brain was having trouble sorting out the reasons.

Or at least it was until someone grabbed my ass.

The sound I made as I jumped was downright embarrassing, and I whirled around to see three young men nearby wearing either friendly or flirtatious smiles. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting of the club, with the neon stage lights occasionally flashing across the crowd.

I was well aware that I was inebriated, but the men looked harmless enough. I wondered if I’d only imagined the feeling of a hand gripping my cheeks. It really felt like they’d reached under my sweater and touched my actual underwear. Surely not, though, right? People didn’t just do things like that, did they?

Deciding to leave it be, I turned back to my friends and realized they’d gotten away from me. Not exactly surprising—my short height made it easy for me to get lost in a crowd. I wiggled my way back to them and kept dancing.

That is, until I felt hands on my waist and a presence behind me. I closed my eyes again, wondering if I should ignore it, right up until I felt a mouth near my neck. Not quite touching me, but close enough that I was acutely aware every time it exhaled.

I came face to face with one of the guys and put on a polite “no thank you” smile. “Hey, I’m here with my friends, okay?”

The guy looked annoyed, but didn’t fight me on it. Instead, he made his way back into the fray of the dance floor, making me wonder if that was an entirely normal interaction or if it was because I was wearing such a short “dress.”

I tugged at the hem, worrying that I was showing a lot more than I wanted to. Although an outfit was never an invitation, I still worried about being too accessible for people who’d take advantage.

I tried to return to my dancing, but as the minutes ticked on, I felt worse and worse. My head was pounding, I was dizzy, and my nausea had increased. Was my fever coming back? I really thought I was past that.

The reality was that I couldn’t afford to get sick. I’d allowed myself to miss a single day of school and cut off all extracurricular activities for a week, and I was still catching up. If I missed any more time, I’d be buried so deep that there was no getting out.

Then I felt a hand rove up my side, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, falling into Lisbeta as I faced the handsy stranger again.

“What the f**k?” she snapped, clearly irritated, and for a moment, I was terrified I’d knocked a drink onto her outfit. Lisbeta’s clothes were far more expensive than I could ever hope to afford, and I knew she’d insist on me paying for the dry cleaning if I got vodka cranberry all down her front.

I sputtered as I tried to explain. “This guy tried to feel me up!”

“A hot guy feeling you up should be taken as a compliment. Come on, we’re in college! Live a little!”

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but it wasn’t for Lisbeta to dismiss me. I must’ve stared at her for several seconds, my head spinning and my stomach heaving, before I heard a tone in my voice I rarely used with my circle of girlfriends. It was sharp and full of steel.

“It’s not a compliment if it makes me feel f*****g uncomfortable! I don’t live and die by the attention of men, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Lisbeta’s eyes went wide for a moment, and I knew why. It was rare that I talked back to my friends, especially so forcefully, but I was tired, I was nauseous, and I was done with the situation. I’d wanted to dance and have a good time, but I was in the club in a shirt masquerading as a dress, my head pounding, my stomach dancing along to its own raucous rhythm. That combination made me a lot less amenable than normal.

Once Lisbeta got over her initial shock, she rolled her eyes and went back to dancing like I hadn’t said anything at all. I thought for a moment that was that, but of course it wasn’t.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so uncomfortable around the opposite s*x if you didn’t act so uptight with your boyfriend and actually enjoyed yourself for once,” she sneered. “Given how patient he is, Gavin is a saint.”

At that, my cheeks flushed redder than they already were from the alcohol, embarrassment burning through every part of me. I knew no one outside our circle could possibly hear us, yet it felt like the entire club was now aware of my private life.

That was what toppled me over the edge. I was done. I turned to find a place to sit.

I barely took a step before someone grabbed my arm. I actually snarled, surprising myself. I was sure it was another random guy manhandling me. However, when I twisted around, I saw it was Lisbeta, her expression contrite.

“I’m sorry, that was really shitty,” she said. “I just hate seeing you so bound up in anxiety all the time. I wish you could relax and enjoy all the things that are normal for young people. It’s not wrong to experiment, but you shouldn’t if you’re not comfortable, and I respect that. Gavin is a great guy, you know? I’m sure he respects it, too.”

My mouth opened and closed, my drunken mind surprised by the seemingly earnest apology. It wasn’t that Lisbeta never apologized; it was merely a rare occurrence. It meant a lot that she’d swallow her pride for me, especially since she could’ve waited until morning.

“Hey, did I hear my name?”

I knew that voice, and somehow, against all odds, I faced forward again to see Gavin a foot in front of me, smiling that slight gap-toothed smile that brought me so much comfort. But my relief was twofold. I was certainly happy to see him, and I also knew that with my boyfriend around, guys were much less likely to try anything, no matter how short my dress was. It sucked that my own personhood wasn’t enough, but I was more than happy to use Gavin as my shield, and I knew he wouldn’t mind, either.

“Gavin!” I exclaimed, practically throwing myself into his arms as he caught me, chuckling lightly. It was a sound I didn’t get to hear nearly as often as I’d like. School was kicking his ass, too. I wished that both of us were far less stressed from our academics, but that was what came with being scholarship kids, I supposed.

Well, I was on a scholarship. Gavin was a kid whose father wrote scholarship checks. Naturally, Gavin was expected to hold himself to some truly insane academic standards.

“Good to see you, too, chickadee. I was certain you’d back out.”

“No. You’re stuck with me!”

“Is that so?” One of his eyebrows went up, and his smile grew even bigger. Goodness, when was the last time that Gavin and I were able to be silly around each other? Everything seemed so serious and weighty lately, like there wasn’t enough time for joy or validity. Only study, study, study, then try to keep up with chores.

“Oh, that is soooo so,” I teased.

“Well, in that case, if I’m truly stuck with you, let’s dance.”

“A capital idea!” I said, donning a cheesy British accent. It wasn’t exactly accurate, but it made him laugh, and that was what mattered.

I relaxed into Gavin’s hold as we “danced,” which was mostly a lot of swaying and a slight bit of gyrating. But as much as I loved the contact after we’d been so busy for so long, the longer I stayed close to him, the more aware I became of his heavy cologne.