Dana would never, ever tell Charlotte, but sometimes she kind of resents always having to play wing woman when they go out.
The last she saw Charlotte, she was a few barstools away with a woman she’d introduced to Dana as Summer. Summer’s just as tall as Charlotte is, more lithe and graceful than strong-looking but with the same silky blonde hair. She can dance, too, is what Dana’s discovering now she’s caught sight of them again. Dana watches the two of them move together on the floor for a while, and then turns her attention to the other people dancing, at one point unable to help from wrinkling her nose because what the fuck is that girl doing?
She’s looking at a girl on the other side of the dancefloor with hair a more dirty kind of blonde than Charlotte’s or her own. The woman’s dancing is offbeat and a little stiff, and her arms are flailing just about everywhere. She almost manages to hit somebody in the face. Dana winces – embarrassing – and looks away, but… she can’t help but let her eyes wander back over to the woman dancing, can’t tear herself away from her.
She’s actually kind of hot, Dana thinks – once you get past the weird dancing, anyway – but it’s the fact that she doesn’t seem to care is what it is, is what’s pulling Dana’s eyes over to her. She doesn’t care what people think, or if they might be looking at her. She just wants to have a good time. And Dana wants to have a good time, too.
Maybe you should go over there, the voice in her mind whispers, and Dana internally shakes her head no, but somehow the voice is even louder than the music in the club, and she can’t refuse it.
Fuck it. She downs the last of her drink and makes her way over. Hopefully, she won’t end up with fingers poking her in the eye.
Dana tries to be subtle about it at first: dancing close to the woman but not too close, not glancing over at her all that often, but then she gives up, just hoping that the look in her eye says yeah, I’m trying to dance with you.
Apparently, it does. The girl seems to notice, raises her eyebrows as if to say well, come on, then, and Dana steps in closer, and they’re dancing together, and it’s – it’s fun, even if her toes do almost get trodden on. More fun than waiting around after Charlotte ever is.
It doesn’t take long for Dana to decide that she’s going to go for it.
“I’m Dana,” she says, trying her best to make sure she’s heard over the music.
“Emma,” replies – well, Emma. Dana can hear the edge of an accent over all the noise. Maybe Australian. “You here alone?”
“I was – with a friend,” Dana tells her, looking around for Charlotte. Once she’s found her, she gestures in Charlotte’s vague direction. “She’s… over there.”
“Ah.” Emma nods. “I see. Leggy blonde number one or two?”
Dana just shrugs. She can’t tell whether Emma was specifically pointing at Charlotte or Summer, but she knows Emma’s found them too, at least.
Emma turns back to Dana and grins at her.
“Well, why don’t we give it another couple of songs, and then you can tell your friend we’re getting out of here.” Suddenly, she pauses, her eyes wide. “Wow. If you want to, I mean. I’m not normally that smooth.”
“I’d like that,” Dana says, grinning back, hoping her smile and tone are genuine. She really would.
She does as Emma said and finds Charlotte, who still has Summer plastered to her side. Charlotte doesn’t seem all that interested in anything other than Summer: she just raises her eyebrows at Emma, tells Dana to have fun, I guess, and shoots her a fluttering wave goodbye.
Emma pulls her away by the hand, a smirk on her face, and they exit the building. The cool night breeze after a couple of hours in the sweaty club is refreshing, and Dana feels like she can breathe properly again. Sure, she enjoys clubbing, but a lot of the time she feels like she’s just doing things for Charlotte. This, on the other hand, is just for her. Emma’s hand is still in hers, and she looks just as good under the streetlights as she did under the strobe lighting of the club.
When Dana catches sight of herself in a storefront on the way to find a cab, she can’t help but notice that her hair is just that bit out of place and that her lipstick, usually flawless, has got a bit smudged. She smiles at her reflection despite it. Emma doesn’t care, so neither does she.