“Got it.” Her body wanted to be out there under the strobe, moving and writhing, disappearing into the beat. But she couldn’t. It was early. The dance floor was too empty for Jen’s taste. “Seriously, Sadie,” Jen said, a bit slurry now. “No taking candy from strangers. No lost puppy finding. We stay together, okay?” “Okay. I promise.” Two martinis later—four for Jen—Sadie itched to dance. They stood at the side of the Ice dance floor, Jen rapt in conversation with one of two guys; the other one kept sending Sadie meaningful smiles. The dance floor, swirling in azure lights like water under the dancers’ feet, called to her. Bodies moving in short jerky stops and smooth liquid sways. The music thumped through her. Sadie couldn’t keep faking interest. Her body was sick of standing, her eyes were sick of watching. Screw it. The next great song, she was going out there, Jen or no Jen. The way things were looking, Jen would never dance, making Sadie wonder if she ever did.
