You were surrounded by a crowd of rowdy teenagers, feeling totally alone. Obnoxious music, which consisted mostly of pounding bass and repetitive lyrics, erupted from two enormous speakers nearby. This club never plays anything decent, you thought, sitting at a table in a far-off, shadowy corner of the room, watching your peers dance like fools. You tried to keep busy; you ran your hands through your (h/c) hair and played with the ribbons on your pretty (f/c) party dress. Your head ached terribly and you were wishing you had some Advil when something caught your eye. Your boyfriend Alexander was elbowing his way across the dance floor, trying his best not to spill the two cups of soda he held in his hands. Quickly, you stood up from the table and went to meet him.

"You better enjoy that soda. I went through Hell to bring it to you," he said, handing you one of the cups. You took an awkward sip. The soda was unbearably flat and quite warm, but you decided it was best not to mention it. Just then, Alexander saw one of his buddies in the crowd and smiled coolly, waving to the boy. "How's it going, Josh?" he called. He turned to you and said, "I'll be right back, (y/n). Wait here. Don't go anywhere," he ordered, and then he vanished into the crowd.

And just like that, you were alone once more. It seemed like waiting for Alexander was all you ever did, but he never asked you to dance. Hell, he barely paid any attention to you at all. He might as well put me on a leash and tie me to a table or something, you thought to yourself, frustrated. If he's so paranoid about me hanging out with other guys, why does he invite me to these dances anyway?

Breathing a heavy sigh, you wandered back to your vacant table in the corner, far away from all the people who were undoubtedly having a better time than you were. You eased yourself into a chair and swirled your nasty store-brand refreshment around in your cup, trying to remember why you chose to come in the first place. You had known the night would end like this, with you sitting by yourself as Alexander had a blast with his friends. You observed the happenings of the dance from a distance. Why do I always end up being the outcast? The question echoed in your mind and a tear trickled down your cheek.

Suddenly, a voice spoke behind you.

"Is this seat taken?"

You recognized the sweet falsetto voice immediately. You spun around and smiled for the first time that night. You tried to wipe the tears from your face without him noticing.

"Michael! What are you doing here?" you said, frantically searching for any sign of Alexander as you greeted him. If he ever saw Michael talking to you, he would explode. Michael sat down next to you, grinning shyly. He was dressed in a crisp, white button-down shirt and one of his gorgeous, black military jackets. He was easily the best-dressed guy in the whole club, and you felt your face burn at the sight of him.

"I just wanted to check on you," he said warmly. "I knew you weren't too excited about this dance." Michael's grin disappeared. He stared at you with concerned, dark brown eyes. "You've been crying," he said quietly.

You stared down at your lap. "Yeah, a bit."

Michael leaned closer to you, his eyes wide with worry. "What happened?" He gently placed his hand on top of yours and squeezed it affectionately.

You yanked your hand away and scanned the room for Alexander. "Not here, Michael," you pleaded. "Not now. We'll both be in trouble if my boyfriend sees you talking to me. You know how he gets."

Michael retracted his hand, looking a bit hurt. He leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes. "So that jerk expects you to sit in a corner by yourself and keep quiet while he enjoys himself?"

Michael had a point, but you didn't want him to think that you couldn't handle your own problems. "Don't worry about me," you said. "Alexander does this all the time. He likes to mingle, and I'm just not into that."

Michael looked at you in disbelief. "Are you defending him? You should be his number one priority!" He turned in his chair and searched the crowd with anger smoldering in his eyes. "I can't believe he leaves you alone like this."

You shook your head. "Unfortunately, I'm used to it. I've spent my whole life sitting in corners by myself. Don't worry about it. I'm alright."

"You shouldn't be used to it! You deserve better than that," Michael half-shouted. You jumped a little in surprise when he raised his voice, but then you smiled and started to laugh. Michael was so confused, but after a moment he chuckled too and shook his head. "I'm sorry about that, but," he clenched his fists and pounded the table dramatically, "It just makes me so mad! He doesn't deserve you. We have to do something about this."

You grinned bashfully and looked down at the floor, but your grin faded fast. "I don't know what to do," you said. "Alexander has an awful temper. I'm afraid of what he would do if I tried to break up with him."

Sorrow shadowed Michael's face. "You're unhappy. He can't keep pushing you around like this. We have to confront him."

The expression on his face told you he was serious. "But how?" you asked, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer. Michael was silent for a while as he thought. He gasped and the corners of his mouth quirked upwards until he wore a mischievous smirk. His usually tranquil eyes now blazed with a devilish spark.

"I have an idea," he said.

Your stomach twisted into a knot. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm going to do something about this. You'll see," Michael said. Then, he stood up from the table and hurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

"Wait!" you shouted, but he was gone. Oh God, what's he going to do? You felt nauseous now. You sat there in anxious anticipation for what felt like forever.

Then you heard it. The DJ was playing (your favorite song to dance to).

Oh no . . .

Seconds later, Michael emerged from the crowd and hurried toward you.

"Michael, what are you-?" you started.

"(Y/n), may I have this dance?" Michael interrupted as he bowed low and offered you his hand.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you stared at him with hesitation. "I can't dance," you said.

Michael took your hand and pulled you out of your seat. "Don't be modest. Come on, let's go! This is your favorite song. Show that jerk that you're not going sit around while he has fun."

Your mind screamed "No" but your body allowed Michael to lead you into the crowd.

The room was shadowy but vibrant. Colorful spotlights shone down on the two of you as you wriggled your way to the center of the dance floor. Michael looked blissfully happy as he took your hands and danced to the rhythm of the driving bass. To say the least, your dancing abilities were not anywhere near as flawless as his. Your body was tense with fear at the thought of being seen by Alexander, and you fearfully searched the crowd for him every five seconds.

"(Y/n)," Michael said. You looked up at him, and he smiled. "Don't worry about him. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Your whole body grew warm as you basked in the radiance of his smile. Ugh, that smile! It was perfect. You took a deep breath, nodded, and kept your eyes on him.

The way he danced was breathtaking. The fluidity of his movements was hypnotizing. He danced with divine precision; every kick of his leg, every point of his finger, every thrust of his hips was flawless. You were not the best dancer – certainly no match for Michael – but he led you so well he made you look like a professional, picking up your slack effortlessly and masking your amateur ability with his mastery. He dipped you low and lifted you high. He swung you around and spun you in circles. Your body felt weightless in his arms. You were Wendy, and he was Peter Pan, and the two of you were flying.

But then you saw something that brought you back to reality. Everyone around you had stopped dancing. They were staring at you and Michael in complete amazement, smiling and clapping along with the beat. One by one they vacated the dance floor and watched from the sidelines as you and Michael tore it up. You laughed in blissful surprise, looking around at everyone cheering the two of you on. For the first time in your life, you were the belle of the ball.

You looked back at Michael with childlike delight. "I can't believe this is happening!" you said. Michael beamed down at you with eyes glittering with affection and pride.

As the song neared its end, Michael smirked and eyed you as if he knew a secret. Uh oh . . . what now?

The last note of the song blared from the speakers and without warning Michael dipped you backwards, plunging you swiftly toward the floor. You shrieked, but you did not fall. His arms were wrapped snugly around your lower back, sturdy and strong. He held your body firmly against his own, and he gazed down at your stunned face with dark, piercing eyes. He smiled blissfully, blinking slowly and laughing in between panting breaths. His face glistened with perspiration and his long, black curls hung down in his face.

Ever so slowly, Michael leaned down close to you and whispered, "I love you, (Y/n)."

A chill raced through your nerves like lightning. You beamed up at him. "I love you too."

Michael closed the gap between you, pressing his lips firmly on yours. You could feel him smiling as he kissed you, and you thought you might burst with happiness. His hair tickled your face and you brushed the strands away, running your fingers through his hair.

Michael lifted you back to standing position, and both of you stood there, panting and grinning at each other. The crowd erupted with applause and shouts of praise. Michael took your hand, raised both of your arms high above your heads and brought them back down for a gracious bow. He hugged you close to him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

Then, the joy of that moment came to a screeching halt. Alexander cursed loudly as he shoved his way through the crowd, and his face was twisted with fury. Panic rooted you to the floor, and Michael's expression sobered.

"Time to go," Michael said. He grabbed hold of your hand and darted through the cheering crowd. When the two of you emerged from the pack of people, you made a beeline for the door.

Outside, dusk had fallen. A light drizzle made the black pavement of the parking lot shimmer under the dim glow of the streetlights. You and Michael jogged across the lot and water splashed beneath your feet with every footstep.

A shout made you both stop in your tracks. "Hey!"

You and Michael whipped around. Alexander strode towards you. Every step he took heightened your panic. He was only feet away from you now, and he looked even more menacing in the dark. "What the hell is this all about, (Y/n)?" he said.

You had had enough. This was going to end now. "We're finished, Alexander! Find another girl to push around!" you said, trying to sound braver than you felt.

"Don't be stupid!" Alexander snapped. He pointed a finger at you. "You're going back into that club with me, you got that? Now! Come on!" Alexander moved to grab your wrist, but you pulled away from him.

"Don't touch me!"

"What did you just say?" Alexander growled, and he raised his arm to slap you. You held your arms up and braced yourself for the blow.

But it never came.

Michael stepped in front of you, and in one rapid motion, he grabbed Alexander's wrist and twisted his arm into a painful hold. Alexander cried out in pain. He tried to pry Michael's hand open, but there was no escape. Michael pulled Alexander close to him, staring down at him in wrathful silence, his entire body tense with adrenaline.

"If you ever come near (Y/n) again, I'll annihilate you," Michael said through clenched teeth.

Alexander glared up at him with pure hatred, but there was nothing he could do and he knew it. "Fine," he spat.

Michael let him go. Alexander took a few steps back, but he planted his feet and wound up his arm to punch. Michael dodged the blow and jabbed his fist hard and fast.

CRACK!

Michael's knuckles smashed into Alexander's face with ruthless force. Alexander crumpled to the ground, clutching his nose. "Get out of here!" Michael shouted. Alexander scowled before struggling to his feet and quickly staggering toward the safety of the club.

Michael watched him go. At first, he seemed a little surprised at himself, but after some time, he huffed a sigh and smirked. "I've wanted to punch that guy for a long time," he said. He turned to you. "Are you oka – oof!"

You ran into him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. Your body shook as you tried to hold back tears. "Thank you!" you cried, burying your face in his chest.

Michael hugged you tightly and kissed the top of your head. "I wish I could have done that sooner."

"It doesn't matter," you said, letting him go and sniffling. "It's over now."

Michael grinned. "You know what's not over?"

You studied his face, searching for a clue. "What?"

"This night. What do you say we go back to my place and celebrate this victory?" Michael offered his hand to you with a chivalrous bow. You took it and curtsied.

"That sounds wonderful." You took his hand.

The two of you skipped across the parking lot. Michael twirled you around and around, and you both collapsed into a fit of laughter. What a perfect end to a wild night; just you and Michael, dancing in the rain under the dim glow of the streetlamps.