“Maybe, but it gave you the freedom to let loose, didn’t it?”
Callum stared at the headset in his hands.
“I told you the game would get you moving.”
“I still can’t dance.”
“You should have seen yourself, darling. You’ve got a good sense of rhythm and some moves.”
Callum’s scowl deepened. He doubted that. Dylan took the headset and controllers from him and put them next to the TV. He went back to his computer, using the mouse to open a music programme, with which he played the exact same track Callum had selected in the game.
“Dance,” Dylan said. “Move your body, just like you were doing in the game.” He smirked. “Maybe without the crazy hand waving.”
He began to move his body in time to the music, looking utterly gorgeous.
“Dance,” Dylan repeated.
He moved around Callum, his wrists crossed above his head as his body swayed and gyrated in a hypnotic fashion. Callum looked straight ahead, because he knew if he focused on Dylan he’d probably start to drool. There was no denying it—hewasattracted to the guy.
Dylan’s hands rested on Callum’s hips. “Dance.”
He applied pressure that Callum couldn’t resist, and he soon found himself moving his hips at Dylan’s command. It wasn’t much, a gentle side to side sway in time to the music. Despite himself, Callum began to loosen up. When Dylan let him go, he kept moving. Dylan danced in front of him again, staying a couple of feet away as he upped his game.
“Copy me.”
Callum tried, but he felt clumsy and graceless. He knew his moves looked ridiculous in comparison to Dylan’s.
“Why’ve you never tried to dance before?” Dylan asked.
“Because I knew I’d look like a fool.”
“You don’t. You look—” Dylan faltered, but covered it up with a smile “Good.”
Callum doubted that.
“You don’t like taking risks?” Dylan asked.
Callum let out a scoffing laugh. “It’s not that.” If he didn’t like taking risks, he’d never have ended up in trouble with the police, nor would he have spent time in juvie.
“Then what?”
“Looking like a prat can get you beaten up,” Callum said stiffly. He stopped dancing and went to sit on the sofa.
Dylan sat beside him. “In juvie?”
Callum nodded. “You have to fit in, and you can’t look weak. The bigger, stronger boys preyed on weakness.”
“Did anyone ever hurt you?”
Callum shook his head. “When it came to a fist fight, I could give as good as I got, but for the most part I tried to keep my nose clean and stayed in Greg’s shadow. He looked after me.”
“Greg Summers,” Dylan said.
Callum tried to read his tone. Had he heardjealousy? He almost shook his head to dismiss the preposterous idea.
“But you’re not in juvie now,” Dylan pointed out. “No one’s going to beat you up in a night club just because you’re not a good dancer. Which you are, for the record.”
“I’m not.”
