Page 8 of Three Meows

When I finally got inside and joined the buzzing crowd waiting for the fluorescent paints to be passed around, I decided this was the worst kind of experience. Have you ever been to a restaurant where all the dishes looked amazing but you could pick only one of them? That was my current situation. The club was chock full of young, spry bodies, often dressed to entice, but my eyes inevitably slid back to the three familiar shapes.

It’s not like I didn’t know how attractive they were before, but now it was in my face. Sometimes literally, as Chester was challenged to put his mouth where his shirt was and started twerking. Right in front of my salad! I almost did a spit take of the fruity drink I was holding when I saw that squeezable butt being put to good use.

A second later I was distracted by an arm thrown around my shoulders and looked at Rowan with surprise. His eyes flicked to the side, and I followed his gaze to a group of giggling girls who now were regarding me with jealousy, pouts on their pretty faces.

“Did you just use me as a shield against fangirls?” I asked disbelievingly.

Rowan shrugged, not at all apologetic for using me as a tactical diversion. I could feel the movement intimately, as he still didn’t take his arm away. There were muscles under that arm. They shifted enticingly. It was driving me mad. I couldn’t just stand there, so I grabbed at the mesh shirt and pulled mister dark, tall, and handsome to the dance floor.

“Payment for my protection,” I said gruffly.

“Mafia?” Rowan asked amusedly, as short worded as usual.

“What, you don’t think I would make a good mafioso?” I challenged, making a James Bond pose, my hands held in the shape of a gun.

Rowan lifted his brow, and I knew he was mocking my very non-mafioso look. Alright, so maybe a colorful tie-dye crop top with a short black skirt and blue leggings underneath wasn’t the most terrifying of outfits. I left most of my extensive wardrobe back at my dad’s mansion and had to do with what I had. The plan was to go on a clothing shopping spree under the guise of starting my new life — new clothes, new you, and all that — but I was too busy to make good on that promise to myself.

“I’m in disguise,” I shot back and Rowan nodded and mimed zipping his lips.

When the bass notes of a new song dropped, the man rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck as if he were preparing for a fight before he offered his hand to me.

The first twirl nearly made me stumble, but then I laughed and found the rhythm of the fast, energetic song. Rowan led as if he had expectations of me. Every fast step, every mirrored pose, or a lean against his body as he crouched lower and lower was a test. I thrilled in meeting his expectations but the times when I didn’t, when he changed his grip at the last moment to prevent me from falling if I had too little momentum for a move or dipped me in a pose to cover for my mistake, were the ones that truly stuck in my mind. He had mastery not only of himself but of me during that dance.

The heat of his body when he pressed close, those capable hands keeping me safe… I was glad I had the excuse of a few athletic rounds of dance because my breath was coming short by the time we stopped.

We stared at each other while the world around us fell away. It felt like we were on the verge of something. Something that didn’t need words but needed action.

I reached for him.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and other persons of interest, we are ready to blow your mind!” I let my hand fall as we turned to the DJ on the main stage. “Swing by one of the paint tables to get yourself started with our welcome pack! Remember folks, this is a cooperative exercise. Share the color you get with those who want it. We are leaving the bright light on for this song to let you get sorted and, when we switch it off and turn the black light on, we will see what you have done with yourself! Are you ready to make some mess?!”

A responding cry rose from the crowd and I joined in, though I was already looking around for one of the promised paint tables. Rowan tapped my shoulder and nodded for me to follow. We found not only our goal but Chester and Elijah as well.

“Quickly!” I hurried the men to the side once we had four different paint colors in our possession, one for each person. “Give the jars to me and Chester. You won’t regret it.”

We pooled our resources together and, as the artists of the group, my fellow student and I took charge of the designs. I had ideas, and I would not be deterred.

“You need to look fierce,” I pointed to Rowan. “Let’s go with war paint style. Chester, can you start on it?”

“Sure, but Lisa, Iwillleave my mark on you tonight, even if I have to hunt you down in the darkness,” Chester warned.

“Yes, yes, go, we don’t have much time! Elijah… how about we add some colorful swirls to your arms? Yes, that should work,” I muttered to myself, already dipping my finger into the neon green paint.

Elijah’s cheeks went on fire as I started drawing on him. I had to make every stroke count before the current song ended, but I took a second to enjoy the sensation of the soft skin under my fingertips. Four of my fingers took on different colors as I used them to spread the paint colors around in a controlled chaos of swirls and spirals. I liked having Elijah as my canvas. He was a work of art before I got my fingers on him, but I could add to that and enjoy the sense of accomplishment it gave me.

With a start, I realized the song was slowing down, coming to a close.

“Shit! Chester, give me your arm!”

I pulled at the redhead and frantically painted the design I had in mind on him, hoping it was going to be eligible enough when the lights switched to the UV, and steadfastly ignored Chester’s protests that he wanted to paint me as well.

In the end, I managed to brand him but he didn’t mark me.

With mischief in my eyes, I pressed my paint-covered palm to Elijah’s pristine white clothes, leaving a colorful handprint, then used the chaos of the switching lights and the DJ bellowing to get this party started, to vanish.

Chester promised to hunt me down.

Well, I was waiting.

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