The boy looks around the room scaling his surroundings, tugging on his costume, a bright orange jump suit and his hair is kinked damn near to the floor.
He circles the room and anticipates his next move.
He eye balls walk up and down a dramatic female across the room, in the tightest of police uniforms. Legs waiting to be grasped, he walks forward in pursuit of affection. He pulls the bottle away from her mouth.
“What are you doing here?”
“Same thing you should be doing. Having fun.”
The boy puzzled, questioning the her carefree attitude. He walks away and goes into the kitchen, but she looks at him across the room. Trying to shake her eyes off of him he goes to another room, but she is still concentrating on his presence.
She walks next to the stair case where he is standing and she looks in his eyes.
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
“You look like it.”
“I’m not though.”
“Quit being a b**** and dance with me.” She shouts over the music.
Clasping his hand she drags him into the other room where the DJ is running loud, annoying music. In a daze they press against each other, the boy mopes as if he doesn’t want to dance with her but secretly does.
“Don’t be so stiff.” She shouts.
The boy stands there, indecisive if he wants to participate or refuse.