Mood: Turn the heat up with Don't Cha by The Pussycat Dolls. It's about to get hot! 🥵

***

"Is she still looking at me?"

"Yeah."

"Big time?"

"Yeah."

"How does she look?"

"Like Barbie gone bad," Maddy replied.

"Oh." I nodded, acknowledging that Ingeborg was failing miserably in her attempt to murder me with her criminal stare.

We were at a hot and sweaty dance club, which was packed like a can of sardines. It smelled like sardines too. And maybe an old tennis shoe.

The Koala Bar was a popular hangout where college students and backpackers partied, made fast friends, danced like the world was going to end, and participated in wet t-shirt competitions (or shirtless competitions for the guys) for free jugs of beer.

The bar was decorated with an assortment of flags from different nations. A vintage photo of two handsome male lovers was pinned on the wall behind one of the bartenders. It was a beautiful portrayal of pure love.

The decorations at the club conveyed a feeling of openness, warmth, and diversity of ideas, backgrounds, choices. Everyone who came to this club felt welcome.

Our group gathered at a corner by the bar. Sven and Jonas conversed with a bunch of Norwegian and Swedish students, with beers in their hands, while Maddy and I just finished a tequila shot. The lemon didn't sit well with me.

Ingeborg and her friends were there. They were dressed to kill, with pumps, tight jeans, and tiny crop tops revealing flat and tanned stomachs. Ingeborg looked like a Victoria's Secret angel-puffy hair, overloaded eyelashes, artificially plumped lips, and glitter. Oh, she had a cowboy hat on, transforming her into Jessica Simpson in The Dukes of Hazzard.

The moment Sven, Jonas, Maddy and I walked in, Ingeborg threw daggers my way.

"There's Cyborg," Maddy commented.

"Yeah, just ignore her," I replied.

After we bought our first round of drinks, I caught a glimpse of Ingeborg sniggering with her friends, while pointing at me.

Yeah, real mature, Cyborg. Go back to preschool and grow the fuck up, I thought.

***

About fifteen minutes later, I excused myself to the bathroom.

"Mind my drink," I instructed Maddy, as I headed to the special place where nature was calling.

The women's restroom was a bottle-necked train where a party of another kind took place. I never understood how people could hog a bathroom with bad lighting to re-apply makeup and open a can of worms about their woeful tragedies that would make Ovid turn in his grave.

"He ain't worth your tears," I said to one sobbing girl, who claimed that her world was coming to an end because some guy named Simon was getting with her ex-best friend.

"You are so rude. She needs love right now," her new BFF commented.

"Honey, I'm just being honest. This guy's a douche. He doesn't deserve her. Nor does her ex-best friend." I raised my right eyebrow and they stared back. Damsel in distress then nodded, as if I was her augur who revealed an unspoken truth.

***

After coming out from the bathroom, I noticed that the club was heating up and getting wild. It was competition time and a group of guys had their shirts off, while the crowd roared. One of them was Sven, with a cowboy hat.

"Where did he get that hat from?" I looked at Maddy.

"Oh, Ingeborg placed it on his head." Maddy handed my beer back to me and continued sipping her vodka and lemonade.

"Thought so." I took a swig of my beer. Ah, nothing beats a cold, refreshing Fourex Gold.

The club was pulsating with a provocative fusion of Don't Cha by The Pussycat Dolls and gyrating bodies on the dance floor.

I put my drink on the bar counter, and grabbed Maddy's hand.

"C'mon, I love this song! Let's dance," I yelled out, as the music blared.

After the song ended, and I was pumped up, the DJ announced that it was Karaoke time. The crowd roared, and then quietened when Mr. DJ Karaoke called out for volunteers.

A shrill scream announcing my name broke the silence.

Fucking Cyborg Rasmussen had just yelled, "Eva King, don't be a pussy! Get up on that stage!"

She bolted to Mr. DJ Karaoke, said something to his ear, then chanted my name, together with her posse of VS Angels.

Cyborg then hopped up on stage, with the microphone in hand, as the blank lyrics screen changed and flashed a series of words.

The song? All By Myself by Eric Carmen.

"Come up, Eva. Don't be shy. This is the perfect song for you." Cyborg smirked.

An ocean of faces stared at me, while others cheered for me to hop on stage and attempt this sad and sorry song.

I looked at Maddy, who was with Jonas. Shirtless Sven had just joined them and they signaled "thumbs up."

"Don't let her take you down. You can do this!" Maddy shouted.

She was drunk. Hopelessly drunk. The real Maddy-sober Maddy-would say that I was a kamikaze pilot about to commit suicide. Why? She knew I couldn't sing for my life.

"Fine." I sighed, hopped on the stage, and took the microphone from Cyborg. As I grabbed it off her, we engaged in a stare-the same one that Rocky Balboa threw at Ivan Drago in Rocky IV. I called it the Rocky stare.

When the music started, I focused on the lyrics screen. The world was a stage and the whole fucking universe was watching me, ready to perform my musical soliloquy.

I cleared my throat and began bashing the lyrics with my toady warble:

When I was young
I never needed anyone

Did I mention that I couldn't sing for shit? Yeah, well, now I have.

Everything felt like an illusion and I was a puppet in front of a sea of muppets. Kind of like a muppet show.

After the deathly silence from the audience, the heckling and booing started.

My face flushed with red heat and my knees started to shake. I was bottling up a mixed emotion of tears and... wait for it, laughter.

Something inside me took a sharp allergic reaction to this entire situation, which felt ridiculous beyond the sublime.

My mouth quivered. I felt mirth. Uncontrollable mirth. I just couldn't help myself with what I was about to do.

The corners of my lips worked its way toward forming into a playful smile, while a bubbled laugh released from my diaphragm and jail-broke out of my mouth.

That prankish, frolicsome bubble erupted into a volcanic flow.

Why?

Because at that exact moment, AC/DC's T.N.T. popped into my head. Heck, I was singing the wrong song! I should have been singing this one instead!

'Cause I'm T.N.T. I'm dynamite
T.N.T. and I'll win the fight
T.N.T. I'm a power load
T.N.T. watch me explode

That last line just about did it. I pictured Ingeborg as Violet Beauregarde from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, all puffed up in violaceous anger and about to explode into a purple oblivion. You think I'd cry because of a cyborg who stole Daisy Duke's clothing? That I'd cave in because of a laughing crowd who harassed me with their heckling?

Think again. No. Fucking. Way.

I chose to laugh back at the crowd, then presented them with a challenge.

"C'mon, guys! You think you've got something better than this? I challenge you to come up on stage with me and bring it on!"

Yeah, I did the "spirit fingers" from that movie, Bring It On.

I stared at the audience and watched the horde of faces, who had either been:

A) Laughing. At this point, they started to quieten in response to my challenge. Perhaps they were considering joining me.
B) Booing. Their reaction to my challenge? The same as group A.
C) Shit-faced from all the alcohol, and possibly a little more. Their response to me? Nothing. They were still drunk or stoned, or both.
D) Too stunned to react. Maddy and Jonas were in this category.

Or...

E) Putting your shirt back on to hop on stage and "rescue" Princess She-Ra from the land of Hard Knocks and Guts.

Guess which category Sven fit under?

If you guessed A to D, you're wrong. Sorry. No soup for you!

If you guessed E, then it's BINGO! There's soup for you.

At first, shirtless Sven shook his head. I thought he was part of category A or B, but I was wrong.

Hallelujah, there's hope for humanity!

Shirtless Sven was no longer "shirtless Sven" when he whipped his shirt back on and jumped up on stage. There he was, all six feet and two inches of pure, unadulterated brawn standing by my side. He towered over me. I felt like a clumsy munchkin standing next to Viking Thor.

In a matter of seconds, this guy had just brought sexy back on stage, which would have made Justin Timberlake proud.

"We got this," Sven murmured in my ear. I felt the vibration of his words, which shook me to the core.

I was not alone.

When I looked at Sven, his honest eyes assured me that everything was okay. I felt stronger. He and I were a team.

"Teamwork?" I handed him the microphone.

"Teamwork." He snaked his left arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him, so we could share the mic together.

"Alright Eva, let's finish this song!" Sven roared and the crowd cheered with him.

The atmosphere in the club had changed, as if a warm summer breeze had smacked the coldness out of everyone's heads.

Together, Sven and I belted out our song:

All by myself
Don't wanna be
All by myself
Anymore!

I was tone deaf, and he was only ever slightly better. Together, we were a tone deaf duet, finishing the remains of this wretched song.

After mock-bowing to the crowd of applause when the song ended, Sven then announced: "We're going to do another one, since you loved the last one so much!"

GASP!

Sven walked to the Karaoke guy, who was another Norwegian, and discussed the next song in their language. I had no clue what they were saying.

The screen prompt then flashed I Got You Babe by Sonny and Cher.

"C'mon, let's do this together, Eva! One last song?" The Viking warrior raised his right eyebrow at me inquisitively.

"Yeah, why not? One last song before we hit the road!" I assured him with two thumbs up, while the crowd clapped and whistled. The whistling came from a bunch of girls near the bar. It was for Sven, as it certainly was not for me.

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Sven belted out the lyrics, while his eyes shone upon mine:

They say we're young and we don't know
We won't find out until we're grown.

"Your turn." He nudged my elbow.

I grinned at my crazy partner in crime, and caterwauled the following words:

Well I don't know if all that's true
'Cause you got me, and baby I got you.

Sven was fun. He was refreshing, like a good Pina Colada with pineapple, coconut cream, and a strong dose of Bacardi Carta Blanco.

As we sang together, I felt an surge of power flowing into me. I was energized by him. We were sharing positive energy. We had a connection.

That moment was squashed like a fruit fly being swatted by the giant hand of Maddy Carlson, who hopped on stage and yelled out, "whoa, whoa, stop!"

"What the fuck?" I hissed at Maddy for killing my moment with Sven, who looked dumbfounded like a stunned mullet.

Maddy's Mac lipsticked mouth unzipped into a wicked, crimson grin.

"This isn't you, Eva. You and Sven need a song with a little more... SPICE!" She then darted off to the confounded Karaoke DJ and, together, they plotted a new song for the Viking and his Boudica.

The beat changed to something that I initially thought was Queen's Under Pressure, which would have made perfect sense, considering the pressure I was under to perform in front of an audience of drunk Sven-swooners, backpackers, and college students.

However, when the words of the new song popped up on the lyrics screen, and the opening beat took a wrong turn, my eyebrows may as well have skyrocketed through the roof and disappeared from my forehead.

Yo, VIP, let's kick it!

Nope. This was not Freddy Mercury.

Ice ice baby
Ice ice baby

"Maddy, you gotta be kidding me!" I yelled, as the skinny, little imp hopped off the stage, with her forked tail and a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Great! Not only were my eyebrows gone, but Sven and I were stuck with Vanilla Ice's Ice Ice Baby. The screen behind us displayed the old 1990s video clip. I couldn't believe this piece of shit made MTV.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

Speaking of Sven, the blond Viking grinned and nodded his head to the tune, before grabbing my waist and pulling me close to him again.

"Oh My God," I wailed in vain. Wailing in this situation was useless. Utterly and completely useless.

"Sing with me, girl," Sven coaxed me. We missed the next two lines, but we managed to catch up with the song:

Ice is back with my brand new invention
Something grabs a hold of me tightly
Then I flow that a harpoon daily and nightly
Will it ever stop?
Yo, I don't know

Before you know it, Sven and I were making rap-star moves, swimming our arms around like Eminem or P. Diddy, and making peace signs while belting out this one-hit blunder.

It really was an atrocious song that most people would have been too embarrassed to sing, but I noticed Sven was having fun! And so was I.

An hour later, we were drinking shots with Jonas and Maddy, who sneaked a few kisses when they thought Sven and I weren't looking (oops Maddy!). Sven shared a few jokes that didn't make sense to me. Only because I didn't quite understand some of Sven's Norwegian humor, which he had to explain a few times.

I glanced over Sven's shoulder and saw Cyborg sneering and glaring at me. Her fears came true, but I didn't feel bad. She set wildfire to a self-fulfilling prophecy. If she had any plans for her and Sven to get back together again, Vanilla Ice sliced it like a ninja and cut it like a razor blade.

I thanked the fates, who were kind to me that night. And Vanilla Ice.

I really liked Sven. I mean, I didn't just like him for his physical attractiveness-although it helped to have that special spark or chemistry, but I started feeling emotionally in sync with him. I felt safe with the guy. I felt we were on the same wavelength, regardless of our different cultural backgrounds.

***

We all went back to Jonas and Maddy's apartment that night. Sven had been kicked out of the apartment he shared with Ingeborg, and was temporarily living with Jonas until he found a place of his own. Being a poor university student, he didn't have many options.

After using the bathroom to get ready for bed, I noticed Sven resting on the Ikea sofa, which was his make-shift bed.

"Hei hei!" Sven may as well have serenaded me with his melodic Norwegian greeting.

"Hey," I responded.

"Ingeborg... she's insecure. It's-"

"No need to explain, Sven. I get it. I don't cut other people's grass, you can tell her that," I replied.

"Cut other people's grass?"

"I'm not after you. If you're taken, that is."

"I'm single." His eyes locked with mine.

After being held in his gaze for a few seconds of heaven, I averted my eyes and blushed. It wasn't often that a strong, charismatic and kind-hearted hunk gave me his attention.

"Come." He patted a spot next to his hard body. "Sit with me for a minute."

My heart skipped several beats. No man ever had this invisible power over me. He was different.

It was as if he had taken a syringe of stupid love and seared it through my veins.

"You are honest and sincere. I like that about you." He flashed his perfect, white smile, as I sat by his side.

"Yeah, I speak up my mind. I don't like bullshit." I sighed.

Sven let out a soft laugh, revealing a sparkle in his teal eyes and a pair of dimples. When he threw his head back, I noticed that his hair had golden highlights that, for some reason, reminded me of Apollo, the sun god.

"Eva King, I like you." His ocean eyes grew dark, until the ocean was just a thin rim encapsulating a dark hunger.

"I like you too, Sven." My voice hitched as his fingers stroked my face.

"Jeg vil ha deg."

"Huh?"

"I want you."

***

A/N: Do they? Don't they? The next chapter will reveal all...Please vote and comment if you enjoyed this chapter.