
The lights are dim. The vibes are tense. You're all mousse'd up, palms are sweating. It's a dance, but you're in a huddle, craning your neck and eyeballing the room. You spot them across the way. Then the music shifts.
You're up, kid. You've been waiting for this one.
There might only be ten yards between you, but it might as well be 10 miles. You give your buddies a knowing nod and separate from the pack, cross the gulf, and tap them them on the shoulder.
"Do you wanna dance?"
Rather than hijack the high school thread, let's hear your school slow dance bangers.
