I watched that body, lithe and pale, turn in its place; fast and controlled across the makeshift dance floor, definite movements that commanded the space. Arms lifted, muscles tight, hips convulsing; hundreds of eyes followed that form, caught by the flashes of light off skin. I felt my heart pound in time with the bass up through my feet, in rhythm with the boys every jerking slide.
He never glanced out at the crowd, never once broke his hold. I could sense his concentration, lucid and easy as he slipped low, obsidian falling to partially obscure his face. When he rose again it was slow, deliberate, coaxing the audience to move, their bodies keening towards him. The lone figure in the partial gloom.
My chest tightened as his spine curved, straightened out; the slight flush more visible as his torso leaned up into the light. A ripple seemed to course through the spectators at his sudden speed, contorting and ending his routine in an abrupt motion. His gaze met mine and a smile pi