“And will our other stand-out dancer of the night please come on up here, too? Coco? Come on up here, honey!” Ryan finds Coco’s little face in the crowd and his gorgeous face lights up. “Hello, beautiful. Come on up here, sweetheart. Time for you to beat Keane’s booty in hula dancing.”
The crowd explodes with excitement as Coco pops up and eagerly works her way toward the stage.
“Word on the street is my brother Keane challenged Coco to a hula-dancing duel on the flight over here,” Ryan explains. “In fact, Keane’s exact words were that he was gonna ‘beat her booty in hula dancing.’”
Everyone boos loudly and Keane instantly assumes the body language of a villain-wrestler in the ring.
“Time for Keane Morgan to learn how to be humble, right, Coco Puff?”
As Coco ascends the steps of the stage, Keane rips off his shirt, crouches at the front of the stage like a lion in a hula skirt, and cups his hands to his ears like he’s begging us to boo him even louder, which we do between fits of laughter.
Finally, Coco reaches the stage and walks across it timidly toward Ryan, obviously feeling a bit unsure. Ryan moves to her, bends down to her level, his body language gentle and attentive, and talks to her for a moment. Coco nods. Ryan puts his palm up and she high-fives it and he kisses the top of her head and rustles her hair.
And... I... just... died.
May Tessa Rodriguez rest in peace.
Ryan rises to standing and addresses the crowd, his face aglow. “Okay, folks, Coco says she’s ready to kick some Keane-Morgan booty. Let’s do this!”
The professional dancers descend on Coco, tying a grass skirt around her waist and slipping a flower lei around her neck, and, immediately, a ukulele-accompanied dance-off begins.
Oh my God. This is absolutely hilarious and lovely. Coco’s moves are earnest and sweet. Man, that kid’s really giving it her all up there! And Keane’s moves are absolutely spellbinding, though not even remotely reminiscent of an actual Hawaiian dance. Side note? Holy hell, Keane Morgan can move! Even though he’s obviously doing PG-rated versions of his moves for this particular audience, it’s nonetheless very clear to me I should drag Charlotte to a Ball Peen Hammer show for her birthday next month.
But, as compelling as Keane and Coco are up there, my eyes quickly drift to Ryan. He’s standing at the side of the stage, belly laughing and cheering Coco to her inevitable victory—and, for some reason, everything he’s doing—everything about him—is making my ovaries vibrate and my heart physically ache for him. Oh my God, he’s absolutely stunning up there. A work of art.Beautiful. Inside and out.
The dance-off ends and Ryan walks between the contestants, microphone in hand.
“Great job, guys,” he says. “Okay, everyone, it’s time to select our winner through applause. First, let me hear from you if you think Keane’s our winner!” He raises Keane’s hand into the air and a loud tidal wave of boos crashes onto the stage, followed by raucous laughter.
“Wow, Keane,” Ryan says. “Not lookin’ good for ya, bro.”
Keane grabs the microphone. “You guys are lame.”
More boos slam into the stage and Keane flexes every muscle in his body, yet again playing the part of the villain.
“Okay, okay,” Ryan says. “And now... let me hear from you, nice and loud, if your vote is for...Coco!” He holds up Coco’s hand and everyone explodes into enthusiastic applause and cheers.
Keane does a whole sore-loser thing behind Coco but ultimately shakes the victor’s hand and rustles her hair and picks her up and takes her on a giggling victory lap around the stage. And, through it all, I still can’t seem to take my eyes off Ryan Ulysses Morgan. The way he’s smiling at Coco and his brother—the way he’s laughing and so obviously enjoying this moment—the fact that he thought to engineer this shining moment for Coco in the first place... Oh my God, I’m so turned on right now, I’m gonna have to change my panties before I head to the 22 Goats concert later on.
Finally, Ryan, Keane, and Coco leave the stage and resume their seats and the professional show continues... and, the minute Ryan’s seated at the other end of my long table, I steal a long, aching look at him, my cheeks blazing and my crotch pounding. Slowly, Ryan turns his face away from the show that’s resumed onstage and looks straight at me, his eyes smoldering.
He smiles and my entire body jolts like I’ve been struck by a Taser gun.
I lick my lips.
And then return his smile.
And then, the same way Ryan did at the opening party last night, he taps the face of his watch as if to say, “It’s only a matter of time.”
Only this time, unlike last night, I nod, acknowledging the inevitable.
48
Tessa
As I watch 22 Goats performing onstage in the resort’s nightclub, I’m floored by how great they are. Seriously, who knew Dax and his two friends were this talented? Their videos are great, yes, but they don’t come close to doing this amazing band justice. Just like Reed said, Dax Morgan is a needle in a haystack. Get that boy the right exposure and he’s gonna be a mega rock star. And the other two guys in the band? Forget what Reed said: they’re great, too. In their own ways, of course. I mean, obviously, Fish and Colin don’t shine nearly as brightly as Dax up there, but who could? Dax is in a league of his own—otherworldly. I mean, thanks to Dax’s showmanship and charisma, I feel like I’ve got the best seat in the house, and yet I’m at the very back of the club against a wall.
I scan the crowd, hoping to spot Ryan again, and, this time, when my eyes land on him, he’s across the room, rocking out and singing along to every word in a happy cluster with his immediate family, all of them obviously enthralled with their beloved rock star.
