“Thank you,” he says, clutching his hand to his heart as though I’ve just made his night. “How long are you in town? You should come take some lessons at my studio.” His English is excellent, with only a faint, indeterminate accent.

“I’m here indefinitely.”

“Well then. May I?”

I pause for what becomes an awkwardly long moment. I can move my body drunkenly to music like everyone, but I don’t dance.

“Of course you may!” Gemma laughs and pushes me forward into his arms. “Don’t be shy, darling, G is an excellent teacher.”

He shows me a basico—the rudimentary walking step—then leads me through a few steps and turns encouragingly. Whatever I’d felt before is intensified once I’m in his arms. I’m swamped by an odd mix of desire and comfort: he is new and he is familiar. It’s been a long time since I’ve just been held in someone’s arms like this with no other agenda. He talks to me as we dance, which relieves some of the tension. I’m muted by everything racing through my mind. Edward catches my eye and gives me a knowing smile that I return with a nervous one. I can’t help but feel my new friend has seen something I don’t want him to see.

When I leave the dance floor, the boys have reappeared, and they hand me a drink. They’re on either side of me on the dance floor when the countdown to the new year begins. One of them pulls my face in for a deep tongue kiss while the other kisses the back of my neck. Hands run all over my body, touching my breasts and creeping up my dress. They turn me around and I’m kissing the other one. I’m numb enough that all I feel is the sensations, and I keep chasing them. A wave of panic hits me that I’m in public until I glance around the dance floor and see that all around us, there’s a similar sense of frenzy, of hands and flesh and tongues.