“What’s wrong?” she asks. “Is the lightness of his foot not agreeable with you?”
I narrow my eyes at her. She will give herself a tummy ache, laughing like that, although I appreciate the reference to our favorite movie.
“He wouldn’t make it past round one on Dancing With the Stars,” Ian says.
I turn my back to the exotic dancer. “I can’t believe this is what people do at these things.”
Theo returns with our drinks, his teammates at his side, and one of them asks Stephanie to dance. Excited, she follows him to the middle of the living room, where the crowd jumps in unison to the beat of Tiesto’s10:35, making the floor shake beneath our feet. Even I can’t help but sway to the rhythm. This night might turn out great.
We stand there for a while, sipping on soda before Theo asks, “Wanna dance?” He holds out a hand.
I thought he’d never ask. “Yeah, let’s go,” I say and take his hand.
As we step onto the makeshift dance floor, joy comes over me like a wave. Never in my wildest dreams did I picture dancing with Theo.
Another remix comes on—this time Logan Humphries’Megaton Kiss. Theo’s hands settle gently around my waist, and mine on his shoulders as our eyes lock. The world disappears as we sway together, faster and faster, leaving only us. We slow down, and I melt into his embrace, comfortable and familiar; it feels like we’ve danced this way countless times.
“I’m not very good at this,” he whispers in my ear. “Teach me some of your moves?”
I take his warm hands in mine, and he follows my two-step-spin, pulling me in at the end of the movement so that my chest presses against his. The way he towers over me, and how small I feel in his arms leave me breathless.
“This is fun,” he says.
“Beginner stuff,” I tease him.
“Come on, then, show me more.”
I parade some of the steps I’ve memorized from hours of choreography practice in my room and at the studio. He does his best to follow along, the rhythm of his body slowly synchronizing with mine until we sway and spin as one. We’re having so much fun I forget where we are as we bump into others around us.
“Sorry,” I say.
“You should enter the talent show,” Theo says against the rim of my ear.
“Are you kidding?” I scoff at the idea. “Everyone would just laugh at me like they did when I was a kid.”
“Has it ever occurred to you,” Theo begins, “that the reason you got picked on as a kid was because they liked you?”
I laugh so hard I snort, hoping he hasn’t heard. “The whole if-you-like-her-be-rude-to-her strategy. Why not just ask me to hang out?”
“It can be hard sometimes. Fear of rejection and all.”
“Now that, I understand.” I fling my hair backwards and vent my blouse. It’s getting hot.
His gaze seeks me out, and he pauses. “Why haven’t we talked like this before?”
“Well,” I say, “at some point, you were labeled Mr. Popular, and I got . . . nerdy.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” he says. “I think you put up a wall, kept yourself hidden.”
“Easier that way,” I admit.
He leans closer, the gold speckles in his green eyes sparkling in the bright room. “I’m determined to demolish that wall.”
“Oh, yeah? And how are you going to do that?”
“Like this.”
He spins us halfway around, then dips me, and I gasp. With my arms hooked around his neck, I stare deeply into his eyes, my heart fluttering as I brace myself for the possibility of the next moment.
