The later it gets, the better the party becomes. I’ve already downed a few drinks. On the dance floor guys are trying out new steps. The girls are falling about with laughter. “You dance like a white boy,” one of them shouts to Tshepo. He shows a middle finger and carries on as though he were the Strictly Come Dancing champion.

“Nathi, come show them how it’s done!” calls Kebone.

I don’t wait for a second invitation. I’m on the dance floor. The music is pulsing through me. Doof, doof, doof. I move without thinking. I hear a few admiring shrieks. Whistles.

Then Kebone is with me. Up against me. I feel that body that Musa was talking about the other day. Kebone puts her arms around me.

“Kiss me,” she says, just loud enough for me to hear above the thumping music.

My heart skips a beat.

“Kiss me, Nathi!” she says again.

I bend my head nearer to hers.

I kiss her.

But something is wrong.

WHAT DO YOU THINK: What is wrong for Nathi?