Sam Bell was supposed to be an experiment for Bold Karaoke Lily, an impulsive decision that would merely add to a fun night out at Moonie’s. But even though I had stopped drinking after that last gin & tonic at the bar, I kept getting drunker on Sam anyway, like they were seeping steadily into my bloodstream with each open admission of vulnerability, each shy smile, each horribly belted song.

And I was definitely going to be hungover.

Things got back to karaoke-normal after our stint of oversharing at the bar. My confessions and theirs had made my insides feel all fizzed up, like a bottle of soda dropped on the floor. But back on the dance floor, this night was understandable again. Music, laughter, a bit of lust. Just another night at Moonie’s.

Sam and I danced to more songs, from the frenzied hilarity of Reel Big Fish’s “Sellout,” which was essentially all of us jumping up and down a lot while screaming, to Madonna’s “Like a Prayer,” which was probably the most animated I’d seen Sam. My friends and I were all dancing in a circle for it, surrounded by the rest of Moonie’s—everyone emptied their seats and barstools for “Like a Prayer”—and when the choir part came in, Preeti grabbed Sam’s hand and Sam went with it, grabbing her other hand, throwing their head back and lip syncing together, and I felt so deeply happy. It was like the power of Madonna suddenly taught Sam how their hips worked. They looked so relaxed as they twirled and sang along with the rest of us, so far away from the frustration that had momentarily worried their face back at the bar. Under the lights, the blaring speakers, they were just...free. Like an angel sighing.

Their friend Kelsey showed up at one point, slipping into our circle as we danced to Nelly.

“I have friends!” Sam shouted to me excitedly after introducing us.

“I know,” I laughed.

Shortly after that, Kelsey sang exactly one song—Michelle Branch’s “Everywhere,” which brought the house down—and promptly disappeared.