Chapter 27 - The End

(Ten months later...)

Tiffany steps out of the stall in the ladies bathroom. After washing her hands, she checks her reflection. She frowns. Her leather fringe jacket and skirt are rad. Her high heels and lacy ankle socks are cute. Her electric blue eyeshadow is perfectly applied. But, there's just something about herself that she isn't happy with.

"Hey, Wendy. How do I look?" Tiffany turns from side to side so her roommate can judge her appearance.

Wendy sets down her tube of lipstick and squints at the mound of hair on Tiffany's head. Before they left their dorm room, that hair was teased for maximum volume and doused with hairspray to stay in place. Some of Tiffany's hair stands a good seven inches above the scalp.

After a thorough exam, Wendy grabs a comb. "You look great," she says as she works on her friend's hair, "but your bangs have gone flat. I don't think we put enough hairspray there. I'll puff them back up for you."

"Thanks." Tiffany pauses and takes in Wendy's appearance. "You look great, too. Crimped hair looks fab on you."

"You think?"

"For sure. You should do it this way more often."

Wendy smiles. "OK. I will then. I heard in a decade's time no one will be curling their hair. Crimping is where the future is. It's - like - never going out of style." With one last stroke of the comb, she steps back and admires Tiffany's extra puffy bangs. "There. All done. Guys are gonna be lining up to dance with you tonight."

The two of them leave the restroom together and make their way back to Wendy's boyfriend. David's one and only job was to protect their table at all costs. The night club is always crowded on Friday nights. If David were to step away from the table for even a handful of seconds, someone would likely swoop in and steal it. When the girls push through the mass of people bordering the dance floor, they see that David has fulfilled his duties. The table is still in his possession. The only change is that two more people have joined him.

"Hey!" David puts an arm around his girlfriend and encourages her to sit on his lap. After she gets settled, he gestures towards the man and woman across from him. "Wendy, I want you to meet my friend Brett. You might have seen him before. He lives on the floor right above me. And this is his sister Laura. She's visiting him for the weekend."

Wendy raises her eyebrows. Brother and sister? She never would have guessed. Other than their shared jet black hair color, nothing else about them is similar. Laura has on a cute tulle skirt, plus colorful leggings. Wendy could see herself wearing the very same thing. Brett, on the other hand, is dressed like a yuppie. Hair slicked back. White canvas boat shoes. There's even a sweater draped around his shoulders. It looks like he belongs at some exclusive golf resort, not one of the trendiest night clubs in Providence, Rhode Island.

After greetings are exchanged, the five of them fall into conversation. David and Brett trade stories about their crazy apartment manager. Wendy and Tiffany swoon over Laura's beaded chandelier earrings and ask where she got them. Within fifteen minutes of meeting, the three of them laugh like they have known each other for years.

Laura happens to glance to her left and does a double take. There is an eye-catching couple occupying a table approximately thirty feet away. The man wears a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled above the elbows. His slacks are black and fit like a dream. But it is his hair that really grabs Laura's attention. It has no gel to keep it in place. His hair is free to do what it pleases. And the color has hints of brown and copper in it. Laura decides to call it bronze. It looks just like an old vase her grandmother keeps on the mantle. All in all, he is the most handsome man she has ever seen.

Across the table from him is an equally beautiful woman. She looks like someone you would see in a music video. Perfect cheekbones, perfect lips... perfect everything. There's not one flaw on her face. Even her hair is incredible. Long and lustrous, her brown locks cascade down her back like a waterfall. Around the woman's neck is a gold chain with a plain, old-fashioned locket hanging down. Surprisingly, it goes well with what she is wearing. Her dress is ivory white and flows almost to her knees. One arm is sleeveless, leaving her shoulder bare. The look gives the woman an air of elegance that most people can only wish they possessed.

"Who are they?" Laura blurts out.

The entire group stops talking and stares at the couple in question.

"We don't know their names," David begins, "but we do know that they come to this place every single weekend."

Wendy nods. "Yeah. They go to Brown too, just like me and Tiffany. We see 'em walking around the campus sometimes. But they're - like - really private. They don't socialize or anything."

"That's not completely true," Tiffany chimes in. "A few weeks back, they brought some friends here. And let me tell you, the friends were just as good looking as those two over there."

"No way." Brett takes a sip of his beer but his eyes never leave the pale, feminine face across the room. "That chick is fine. Long hair, long legs. No one could top her."

David shakes his head. "Naw, man. Tiffany's right. The blonde and the petite girl that showed up that night were gorgeous too. Every guy in here was checking them out." Wendy sends her boyfriend a murderous glare. David rushes to correct his blunder. "Except for me, of course. I only have eyes for my girl." He squeezes Wendy around the waist, hoping she will forgive him.

"Their dates weren't half bad either," Tiffany adds while stirring her drink. "One guy was the shy, nervous type. The petite girl with him held his hand all night. And the other guy was ripped. I'm talking huge arms and a barrel chest. He was stacked with muscles - just like Rambo. If he didn't have blonde Barbie hanging onto him, I would have made a play for him myself."

The bronze-haired man rises suddenly from the table and walks away, leaving the brunette woman alone for the very first time that evening. As soon as the coast is clear, Brett jumps up from his chair.

"Where are you going?" Laura wonders.

Brett answers his sister while smoothing down his hair. "That guy's finally gone. I'm gonna go get that girl's phone number."

David, Wendy, and Tiffany look at one another. A split second later, all three of them burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"What's so funny?" Brett asks.

Tiffany wipes the tears from her eyes before her mascara can run. "Nothing," she giggles. "Nothing at all. You go get her, Tiger!"

Brett directs a scowl at them and stands taller. Their mockery isn't going to discourage him from talking to the most beautiful woman in the room.

The four of them watch as Brett weaves around tables and avoids the crowd swaying to the New Wave song playing. The dark-haired woman looks up upon his arrival. What he is talking to her about is anybody's guess. It's too far away for his friends to listen in. However, they can see that the beautiful woman is inching her chair away from him. In response, he places both hands on the table and leans over her. She moves away further, a grimace marring her perfect features. He follows after her, once again invading her personal space.

"She looks uncomfortable," David points out.

"I don't blame her," mutters Wendy.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the bronze-haired man reappears. In his hands are two alcoholic beverages - evidently the reason why he left the woman's side in the first place. His face is composed, yet his eyes are fierce. They look as though they belong on a lion, one who is considering if he should take a bite out of someone.

"Whoa," Laura breathes out. "That guy looks mad...and hot."

Tiffany raises her glass. "I'll drink to that." And she does.

Brett and the bronze-haired man exchange a few words before the man places a lingering kiss on top of the woman's hand. Her rigid posture immediately relaxes. Meanwhile, Brett slinks back to his own table and flops into his seat. He guzzles the remainder of his beer and slams the bottle down.

Tiffany smirks at his silent temper tantrum. "Spill it. What happened?"

"It was going good until the boyfriend ruined everything," he grumbles. His sour expression slowly fades to one of awe. "I knew she was beautiful, but she's even more so close up. She's got these huge eyes that I couldn't stop staring at. They're like...orange, almost. And her body is killer. So, I figured I should give her a compliment. She must've liked it, too. I caught her licking her lips. Sexiest thing I've ever seen."

Wendy openly tsks. "If she liked it so much, how come we saw her trying to get away from you?"

"Obviously she didn't want her boyfriend to see us flirting."

Laura aims a look of disbelief at her brother. "Cut the bullshit, Brett. What did you say to her? Please tell me it wasn't that sleazy pickup line again."

"It isn't sleazy," Brett snaps back.

"What's the line?" Tiffany asks.

"Are you sure you wanna know?" Tiffany nods her head eagerly. Laura curls her upper lip in revulsion. "OK. Here it goes... 'You've got nice legs. What time do they open?'"

Every individual at the table - except for Brett - groans.

"What?" he says defensively. "It works... most of the time."

Laura shakes her head. "Most of the time you end up with a drink thrown in your face. How in the hell are we even related?"

"Oh yeah? Well, I asked myself the same thing after you started dressing like a punk rocker during your junior year. Lime green hair and a fake nose ring. You were the laughing stock of the school!"

"Hey, don't get off track!" Tiffany barks at Brett. "What happened after you gave the girl that so-called compliment about her legs?"

Another scowl crosses over Brett's face. "The boyfriend showed back up - that's what. He said, 'Trust me, you don't want to get too close to her.' Then he told me to move along. And he fuckin' growled when he thought I wasn't leaving fast enough!"

The three girls laugh. David tries to hold back a grin. "Yeah. That's about what usually happens," he says. At Brett's surprised expression, David chuckles. "What? You didn't seriously think you're the first guy to make a move on her, did you? It happens all the time. No one ever succeeds, though. I mean... just look at those two. Who stands a chance at breaking them up?"

All eyes fall back on the dazzling couple. Their drinks sit untouched on their table, like props on a movie sound stage. The bronze-haired man is too busy peppering kisses up the woman's bare arm to worry about drinking.

"Fucking weirdo," Brett spits out. "He's a real life Gomez Addams. What'd she do? Say something in French?"

"Oh, shut up," Wendy huffs. "You're just jealous."

"Me? Jealous of him? No way. The only reason she's with him is because she's probably too afraid to leave."

Wendy snorts. "Whatever. That smile on her face says otherwise. She's eating up all that affection."

Laura's sighs dreamily. "I am too. I wish there was a guy that would look at me like that."

The New Wave song playing in the club approaches its end. The bronze-haired man stands up and moves to the woman's side of the table. He holds out his hand to her, like a gentleman would from long ago. She takes it and rises gracefully from her chair.

Laura frowns. "They're leaving already?"

David's eyes sparkle. "Nope. Just...keep watching. You won't be disappointed."

The couple walk leisurely across the night club. Dozens of heads turn as they pass by. Right when they reach the center of the dance area, the last notes of the New Wave song fade away. The man and woman stand face to face, eyeing one another as though no one else exists. Another song comes on. With its pulsating baseline, everyone in the club stops to take notice. Laura recognizes the tune. It's that brand new, fast-paced song by Michael Jackson she's heard a few times.

The bronze-haired man begins prowling around the woman, his eyes wandering up and down her body hungrily. With one hand embedded on her hip, she stands still and stares straight ahead, her beautiful face hidden behind a seemingly indifferent mask. Just as a cascade of drums kick in, he grabs her by the arm and pulls. She twirls to him. The skirt of her dress billows out, showing off her legs like flower petals on a stem. In one swift motion, he dips her until the ends of her long hair almost touch the floor. For most people, that move would leave them dizzy. Not this woman. She keeps right on going, matching her partner step for step.

Laura blinks and shakes her head just to make sure she isn't dreaming. The only people she's seen that could dance anywhere close to that good were on Star Search. And the dazzling couple's routine gets even better when Michael Jackson begins crooning.

Hey pretty baby with the high heels on

You give me fever like I've never, ever known

The couple moves expertly around the area, never making a single mistake. Their dance style is a blend of ballroom, swing, and something else all their own. People stop what they are doing and back away to give the couple more room. The couple immediately take advantage of the extra space, spinning around like tops on a polished floor.

The way you make me feel

You really turn me on

You knock me off of my feet

My lonely days are gone

Her leg wraps sensually around his waist, like vines on a tree trunk. His hand moves up her outer thigh. A split second later, he lifts her up, flips her in the air, and catches her as though she weighs nothing. She slides slowly down his body, all while giving him a sultry look that would give a lesser man a heart attack.

"Is this choreographed or something?" Laura asks no one in particular.

David twists his mouth and ponders the question. Gradually, he shakes his head. "It's possible, I guess, but I don't think so. They'll dance to whatever happens to be playing. Doesn't matter what it is. And they always steal the show. I think dancing just comes naturally to them."

Wendy smiles around the straw in her drink. "Well, mating dances are natural..."

Tiffany stares at the couple as though she's being hypnotized. "Nuh-uh. 'Mating dance' sounds too clinical. I think we should call it like we see it. That's foreplay...for later." She starts fanning herself. "Damn. Now I need a cigarette."

"Sick," Brett grumbles. "I don't want to think about them together like that."

Tiffany rolls her eyes as she looks for a cigarette in her purse. "Get real. If hot dancing between two consensual partners bothers you, you need to contact Dr. Ruth asap. Maybe she can help you with your sexual insecurities."

While Brett pouts, the man and woman wow the crowd. He moves around her like a planet circling its sun. A moment later, he twirls her again. She stops on a dime without once wobbling on her high heels. Every movement they make is above reproach. When they resume dancing so close together that a pin couldn't be wedged between them, Laura's eyes glaze over.

"You know what this reminds me of?" she says without looking away from the dazzling couple. "The last scene in a movie. Like, all the bad stuff has been resolved somehow, and the two main characters can finally enjoy themselves without having to worry anymore. So, they'll dance and dance until the camera pulls away and the scene fades to black. Then, boom! Here comes the credits. And you just know in your heart what that means."

Tiffany puffs out a cloud of smoke from her cigarette. "That it's time to leave the movie theater?"

Laura laughs. "No! It means they'll be dancing happily together forever."

"Yech!" Brett sneers. "That's chick flick bullshit. No one can be happy forever."

Across the room, the dancing couple's eyes meet. The smiles they exchange speak of love, plus some inside joke only they appear to know. Then they once again lose themselves to the music, holding on and moving forward together in this dance we call life.

.

.

The End

.

.

00000000000000000000

A/N- If you're confused about how Bella became a vampire, read the end of chapter 26 again. She exposed her neck and told Edward to "bite me", which pretty much meant that she was demanding that he do it right then and there. So, that's exactly what he did. I'm sorry if I wasn't clear enough.

Songs Used In This Chapter-

The Way You Make Me Feel by Michael Jackson. This is probably MJ's most fun song. Whenever I was frustrated with writing this story (which was a lot), I would put on this song and remind myself that Bella and Edward would never get to perform their big dance number if I quit. Worked like a charm every time.

Thank you to everyone who put Prohibited Activity on alert, favorited, reviewed, or simply read this Twilight/Footloose love child. Sorry there was no confetti raining down on Edward and Bella at the end. I decided Kevin Bacon deserved to keep that honor for himself. And in case you're curious, I will be back with another story very soon (an all human adventure, because I need to switch things up for a bit).

*Sigh* Well...I suppose that's everything. Twilight in the '80s is over. It's time for me to put away my neon pink hair scrunchie because this story is complete.

Thanks for reading! :-)