Clover isn't having the best of luck at this. For someone who devotes much of her time to yoga and is very much in tune with her body, the ginger girl has never been more than just okay when it came to dancing...which made it awful hard to garner attention, seeing as how it seemed like everyone else on this ship was a professional dancer in a previous life. Finally someone takes an interest and a tall, lean man with a sweet smile tentatively places his hands on her hips, pulling her closer. “You look about as lost as I do,” he chuckles over the loud music, thumb moving in a comforting circle at her side. “Is it alright if I dance with you?”
“
Yeah,” Clover replies, visibly relaxing. She hadn’t realized it, but she really had been starting to get anxious. “
I don’t mind at--”
The first few notes of ‘Dirty Little Secret’ starts to blare over the speaker system and the blue eyed girl stops moving completely when she sees an all too familiar figure take the stage. He is heartbreaking handsome, the eyeliner making his puppy dog eyes stand out vividly. Jar seems just a touch more nervous than usual as the song starts but by the middle of it he has every woman on the dance floor enraptured, and Clover is no exception.
“Hey, you okay?” Her partner asks, eyebrows knitted together in an obvious sign of worry.
“
Ye--No,” Clover replies, pulling herself free of the other dancer’s arms, blue eyes laser focused on the stage. “
I thought maybe I was, but I don’t think I am,” she admits, turning her gaze back to the stranger. “
M’sorry, I don’t think I can dance with you right now,” she admits apologetically.
“It’s alright, miss,” he answers, disappointed but still cordial. “Come find me if you change your mind. Or you get overwhelmed again. Us regular dancers have to stick together,” he kids, giving her a quick wave before weaving across the dance floor in search of his next partner.
She turns her eyes back to the stage, utterly still in a sea of gyrating bodies as her old boyfriend sings the last of the lyrics. When it's over Clover starts to make her way over to the stage, butterflies in her stomach as she draws closer. However, right before she gets to him, the words he said to her earlier that morning come rushing back.
“Let’s try not to see each other around, yeah? I’d like to try to enjoy the rest of my break.”
She recoils into herself like she's been struck, her steps faltering.
’He doesn't want to see me anymore,’ Clover reminds herself, furiously swiping at her face to wipe away the tear that had begun to make its way down her cheek. She turns and hurries to the door, shouldering past anyone that doesn't move away fast enough.
The sea breeze hits her face and Clover breathes out a trembling exhale, blinking rapidly to clear away the rest of her tears. She downs the remainder of her cocktail and chunks the plastic cup into the nearest bin.
’Maybe I’ll try to get over him tomorrow,’ the freckled girl muses, sitting down in one of the nearby deck chairs and toeing off her flats. Then she draws her knees up to her chest and tries her damnedest not to bawl her eyes out.
Bozo
Apollosarcher