I don't remember everything from that night. There were definitely drums, loud ones, going on the entire night; sometimes I can still hear them. Mostly, I remember her, with her scarf and her bracelets. What I felt for her, feel for her still, three months later. It was more than just physical attraction. I worshipped her, admired her, wanted to be her.
It was those bracelets that drew me in. Sixteen bangles. I had counted seven on her right arm and nine on her left. They were all different colors, and they all clashed in just the right way to make her look perfect. Each was slightly different from the last. A different shape, maybe, or size. But they matched.
I had seen girls like her before, and I hadn't felt a thing for them. But everything about her was completely unique. She could be anything, anyone, and the whole time she would be herself. Being around her was intoxicating: you couldn't get enough, and when she left, she'd leave you feeling empty.
When I finally approached her, she turned to me before I had even said a word. She smiled that perfect, confident smile, and led me to the dance floor. We laughed, talked, and danced for hours.
When we first started dancing, I had no idea what to do. I just stood there, swaying. She laughed and grabbed my hands. Then I was dancing in a way that moments ago would have been impossible for me.
She was an amazing dancer. I had no idea what she saw in a girl who was the complete opposite of herself. But she must have seen something, because she seemed fascinated by me. I looked at her like she hung the moon, and she looked at me like I'd caught the stars.
Then someone spilled their drink on her scarf. The scarf was beautiful. So many colors. One to match each of her bracelets, and three more for each color not on her wrists. I was furious, and I could’ve killed whoever had ruined the scarf. Even if it was an accident, even if the scarf could be washed.
But she laughed, said it was an accident. Said that it was fine. Then she left me and danced with the man who ruined her scarf. I didn't know what to do. I felt empty, like I had fallen into the hole where she had been. I stood there, staring at them, for what felt like forever before someone led me off the dance floor.
I never saw her again. But every once in a while, I’d hear some drums, or see someone with lots of bangles or a colorful scarf, and even though I’d know it was just another party, just another night, just another story, I’d still wonder what could have been.
It was those bracelets that drew me in. Sixteen bangles. I had counted seven on her right arm and nine on her left. They were all different colors, and they all clashed in just the right way to make her look perfect. Each was slightly different from the last. A different shape, maybe, or size. But they matched.
I had seen girls like her before, and I hadn't felt a thing for them. But everything about her was completely unique. She could be anything, anyone, and the whole time she would be herself. Being around her was intoxicating: you couldn't get enough, and when she left, she'd leave you feeling empty.
When I finally approached her, she turned to me before I had even said a word. She smiled that perfect, confident smile, and led me to the dance floor. We laughed, talked, and danced for hours.
When we first started dancing, I had no idea what to do. I just stood there, swaying. She laughed and grabbed my hands. Then I was dancing in a way that moments ago would have been impossible for me.
She was an amazing dancer. I had no idea what she saw in a girl who was the complete opposite of herself. But she must have seen something, because she seemed fascinated by me. I looked at her like she hung the moon, and she looked at me like I'd caught the stars.
Then someone spilled their drink on her scarf. The scarf was beautiful. So many colors. One to match each of her bracelets, and three more for each color not on her wrists. I was furious, and I could’ve killed whoever had ruined the scarf. Even if it was an accident, even if the scarf could be washed.
But she laughed, said it was an accident. Said that it was fine. Then she left me and danced with the man who ruined her scarf. I didn't know what to do. I felt empty, like I had fallen into the hole where she had been. I stood there, staring at them, for what felt like forever before someone led me off the dance floor.
I never saw her again. But every once in a while, I’d hear some drums, or see someone with lots of bangles or a colorful scarf, and even though I’d know it was just another party, just another night, just another story, I’d still wonder what could have been.