Main Character Energy (Briefly)

He danced. And at one point it felt more like the music was moving him than like he was moving to the music. His necklace felt uncomfortable as the sweaty ends of his hair got caught in it as he thrashed around, but he hardly noticed. He had not felt this free in a long time. As thoughts of pursuing other girls subsided, all that was left was the music, occasional sips of vodka cranberry, and wondering what position the music would direct him to next. He swayed. He imagined girls being into his perceived carefree attitude. But I bet they can detect that too, he thought. Girls can always tell, huh. Then the DJ directed some bullshit line dance, and his rhythm broke. He felt discombobulated. He tried to keep up briefly through the first part of the song but to no avail. He panicked slightly too. But he calmed himself, remembering that the moment would pass and a better song would come on. Why did he panic so easily? he wondered. He shut his eyes and just swayed, knowing he must look silly to the line dancers; and he did his best to not let that thought bother him. Eventually a better song came on, a free spirited, reggaeton-esque song. He felt the familiar call of the music and abandoned reason for madness (Gandalf would've been proud, he thought). He turned his head at one point to a group of three girls. One of them looked so sexy. He told her friend, I love your sunglasses; and she said thank you. Then the other girl he had wanted simply walked right up to him, startling him momentarily. She was very short, he realized. But she looked up at him full of confidence and said, What are you working with? Was she asking him if he was gay? he wondered. They were in a lesbian bar. It was possible she was curious. He imagined that maybe she'd been watching him dance for a while and had been interested in him. He liked that thought and it boosted his ego. But he also didn't know what she meant by her question and said, I'm drinking vodka cranberry. She must have meant something else by "what are you working with" because confusion briefly flashed across her face until she decided to go along with it, Oh I could see that being a good drink. At least that's what he thought she said. The music was quite loud, and she was short enough that hearing her was proving difficult. He panicked, wanting to dance with her. He reached for her hand with a gesture that felt too swift, but she did reciprocate, slowing the pace. And she danced quite naturally. He felt like he was losing his confidence and felt his face redden. Focus on the music, let it guide you, he told himself. And he slowly let his guard down. Maybe too much. He felt the ridges of tiny diamonds (maybe fake?) on her fingernails brush the inside of his fingers. I love your nails, he blurted out. Fuck. Now she really thinks I'm gay. But she smiled back and said something he didn't hear. He felt like she was yelling at him through a tornado. He thought she was done talking and said, I love it. But her lips kept moving after he said that and he realized he'd interrupted. He waited for her lips to stop moving and smiled with a, Yes, hoping that did the trick. She smiled and looked down. He looked over her head at the DJ and raised his hand that was holding her hand. She did a cute little spin he didn't expect and now she was facing away from him, but rubbing against him. He felt himself getting aroused and panicked that she might notice. He tried to be sexy. He imagined she might be enjoying this since she hadn't pulled away, so he bent his knees and put a hand on her shoulder. They swayed for what may have been ten seconds. And then she slowly turned back to him. But then she took his hand and slowly walked backwards, So nice to meet you, she said. I hope you enjoy your night. He felt a force that sank from his chest to his stomach. Like that silver weight that falls in the Carnival Hammer Game. But what came out of his mouth was, It was nice meeting you too. He performed his greatest act of indifference as they drifted apart, fingers still slightly intertwined. And right before they separated, he could've sworn she applied a pressure that tried to keep him with her. But he had already assumed she wasn't interested, so he let the force of separation take over. Their hands separated. He walked out of the bar. 

Fuck. She thinks I'm gay, he thought. And maybe I am. But I still want her. Should I have asked for her number? Should...

No. I had a fun time at the bar tonight. And that's all that matters.