I was getting too old for this shit. Pounding music blasted from a nearby sound system, reverberating around the dozens of bodies that moved in rhythm to it, sweaty skin grinding against skin. Taking a step away from the crowd, I leaned my back against the peeling paint of an old boathouse. I must have swallowed half a gallon of beer by now, but I could still taste salt from the warm night air lingering on my lips and tongue.
|First Time Falling (A small town romance novella) by Thea Willis|