His skin was pasted against mine, a feeling that didn't bug me for once. I felt his shaven chin, and was doing a good job at ignoring that fact. In the meantime we were moving our legs against each other along with the beats. My arms were around his shoulders and his around my hips, slowly and so not subtelly going to my butt. His normal scent had disappeared and been replaced by the scent of alcohol, and his breath that I could feel almost as much as his body had the same smell – he wasn't drunk though. Sometimes, if music decided to be our friend, we took one another's hand and intwined our fingers. A few times I saw him looking at me, and then I noticed we had the same height – he could kiss me any time he wanted. But that was the point. I didn't want it.