can you bounce wit me?

late night and already in trouble. jay’s words from the cell on the way between one place to get drunk and another still in my head. you betta git yo ass home. and i didn’t care. fuck that, i think i said, before i hung up completely.

he was probably right.

vague remembrances of hearing jay-z in the background and wishing to dance, then he pops his head through the crowd. shouts hey in my general direction. i don’ t like to be hey-ed. so i look with narrowed eyes in his direction with the words hey, fuck you racing through my head – just as he reaches out – grabs my forearm tightly in his hand – and pulls me over. our bodies collide. i intentionally take a step back. wait for him to let me go. he doesn’t. and even the loosened grip feels like the weight of a thousand other nights like this one. i’ve no reason to be afraid. but i am afraid. and i want him to let go of my arm. he leans down to shout over the music, the general din of the crowded room, if you keep turning me down, i’m going to think you aren’t interested. i’m madly drunk and completely uninterested. i lean in and can see in his eyes that he’s not sure about my intentions. place my lips close enough to kiss. see him close his eyes. place pressure on the back of his neck with my hand and instead, softly say, now, boy, now i think you might just be getting it. release the pose. take a few steps away while looking at him in the most sinister way i know how. hear the repetition of can you bounce wit me as i lose myself in the crowd.