The music filled me from inside out, and Angela wrapped one hand behind my neck, swaying her other in the air, flinging her head back as she danced with abandon. I held her by the waist so she wouldn’t fall backward in her enthusiasm. She laughed, her brightly silvered eyelids fluttering, thick lashes brushing above high cheekbones. It’d been a long time since I’d danced so close with a stranger. I took the lead and matched her move for move, our bodies gyrating in sync to the music. She thrust her hips into mine, and my body responded. My hands moved lower to her hips, but I resisted the urge to slide them farther down.

She threw her other arm behind my neck and pressed closer, her dark eyes glowing with pleasure, locked to mine. She ran the tip of her tongue across her upper lip, and the corner of her mouth tilted into a seductive smile. I’d never been big on casual flings, though that was an invitation for a kiss if I’d ever seen one. But I didn’t want to kiss her—not a you girl—even if my body was revving to go. Leaning in, I unclasped her hands from my neck, then spun her out with the next hypnotic beats. Her eyes had been shut in anticipation, but she gasped now, surprised. Laughing. I pulled her close again and she gazed up at me, lips parted, trying to figure me out.

It wasn’t that I didn’t find her attractive. She seemed almost normal in this setting—just another beautiful girl enjoying the celebrations. But deep down, part of me still balked over our differences. Any lust I might have felt for her, any desire, was edged with anger and dampened by contempt. After another twenty minutes of dancing, Angela pulled me down by the shoulders, one hand sliding carelessly to my bicep, and said into my ear that she wanted to go somewhere quieter. I nodded, but not before she brushed her lips against my earlobe. She drew me back off the dance floor, hand clasped tightly with mine. I had a feeling that Angela always got what she wanted.

We left the crowded dance chamber to the one adjoining, this one with fewer people and much more subdued. A circular bar dominated the large rectangular room, the edge of its counter lit in electric blue. Bottles of liquor were nestled on mirrored shelves behind the bar, also tinged in bright blue. Classical music played from the air vents that pumped out our regulated air as well—Bach. The walls were soundproof, so not a note of taitronica emanated from the dance area. Barbots still hovered overhead, ready to take a drink order, but actual bartenders stood behind the bar, for those who preferred to deal with humans. Angela ordered a typhoon cocktail for herself and I asked for a Jin beer—brewed especially for Jin’s soirees.