An electric shock ran down Wes' back. He swallowed thickly at the thought that Ariel's lips were that close to his ear, before laughing again to play it off. "I'm Wes." He gulped down the rest of his beer, to distract himself, and popped the empty cup on the nearest surface. "Your name is much cooler than mine. Much like your dance moves, I imagine." He held up his empty hands in a defeated sort of manner, before shrugging. "I wouldn't want you to be embarrassed by me. I'm definitely not worthy of your tutelage. You'd really put a scar on your dancing reputation. Trust me."
That piece of hair fell back into his face. Wes couldn't help but stare at it. And him -- this boy in front of him. There was just something about him. It wasn't an easily pinpointed something but it was something all the same. He was both uncomfortable and incredibly intrigued at the same time. He wasn't sure how far he could go, but he knew he wanted to see where it was leading. The beer was making him warm and fuzzy, and bold. Really bold. He reached forward again and brushed that hair away. He wanted to know, so badly, how it felt to run his hand through those curls. But he still has some semblance of self restraint left in him, and his hand dropped to its side when its agenda was complete.
"I might be inclined to private lessons, though." The words spilled out before he knew what he was saying. Yep. Bold.