Tara. 18 and dancing. When I'm sad, furious, or wanting to escape, I dance. I won't lie. When I'm out dancing or at my dad's clubhouse, I smoke and drink. Dad is Wild Rider MC president. My brothers are older. I'm alone. I don't enjoy partying. My tiny home is almost done. Then I can hide from them. I pedalled to the gym. My dancing studio is nearby. The biker wasn't observing me. Half the males on the opposite side were watching me dance, too. I glanced around as the music stopped and saw just males. "Damn. Dance well? Someone will dance with you someday." "Inconceivable. 18 and single. never I wasn't invited to prom. I doubt I'll ever do it with a partner." If I'd met her as a teen, I'd ask her out. We'd dance. I danced from age 10 to high school graduation. In many ways, we'd be excellent collaborators.
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