My stomach drops as the realization hits me like a glass projectile landing on the ground and shattering into thousands of jagged pieces.
Absolutely not.
Teasing, flirting, and taunting were one thing. Being in dancing proximity to Vivienne Brown is another. The woman hates me as much as the Montagues despised the Capulets—if not more. And aside from a great ass, only God knows what she’s hiding in those jeans. A torture device? Poisons? I wouldn’t put that last one past her—she’s a chemist, after all.
“There are better ways to do that. Don’t you think, Melanie?” I give her a hard stare, hoping it’ll kill her torturous plans.
All I get is one dismissive shrug. “Couples flow together. Their movements and thoughts are in sync. Nothing about the two of you is coordinated—as seen firsthand by the fountain incident.”
“Throw us into a river with an extreme current, and we’ll flow just fine.” I come to our defense.
“What he said,” Vivienne seconds.
“See, we just came to our first agreement. We’re on our way to becoming the power couple of the century.” I raise my hand, and she meets it with a crisp, satisfying high five.
Look at that—teamwork.
Melanie hums, forefingers caressing her chin as she inspects us up and down.
“Doesn’t matter! You two aren’t getting out of this, so you both better cooperate!”
“Let us plead our ca—”
Melanie spins on her heels, marching away before Vivienne’s protest.
The defeat settles instantaneously, her head dropping low. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”
“Not necessarily.” I try looking on the bright side, but I’ve got my doubts.
The dread and heaviness in our steps are evident on our way to the dance teacher.
“Let’s get right into it, you guys,” Gloria says when we stop in front of her, hips swaying to the sultry beat of some Spanish song. “Would it be fair to assume you’ve danced with each other before?”
Vivienne lets out a loud, audible laugh, one that quickly dies when I bump my elbow into hers. She whips toward me in shock, but my pointed expression keeps her words of hate at bay.
“On numerous occasions!” The switch in Vivienne’s voice gives me whiplash. “We specialize in the goose’s tango!”
Gloria’s brows furrow in concern. “Okay. Well, why don’t we assess the situation and go from there?” With the press of a button, the music from her speaker shifts to something classical.
I turn to face Vivienne, the worried look in her eyes confirming she’s just as scared as I am.
There’s no way out of this.
“Don’t get all shy on me, now.” Gloria giggles like this is amusing to her. “Nate, hands around her waist. Vivienne, arms around his shoulders.”
I take a slow step toward Vivienne as she takes an even more hesitant one toward me. My gaze drops to the floor, the tips of our shoes inches apart.
Her white Converse blemished with a brown mark.
My shiny black dress shoes.
The difference between us is like night and day.
After a few more words of encouragement from the dance teacher, and an awkward dance of limbs, we’ve done exactly what’s been asked of us—with some minor modifications.My hands hover above Vivienne’s waist, while her arms are floating somewhere above my shoulders.
“Have you never touched a woman before? Let your hands rest,” Vivienne half-whispers, half-hisses as Gloria circles us in concern.
I snort. This girl isn’t one to talk.
