He shakes his head, “Oh, yeah? You’ve never beaten me,not once. But suddenly you’re going to win the next round?”
“Since when are you such a cocky little shit?” I fire back playfully.
He raises one dark brow at me, amusement coloring his features. “Little? Really?”
I walk over to him, leaning into his space until my mouth is at his ear. “Hmm. You are abigboy,” I purr suggestively.
He barks out a laugh, pushing my shoulder lightly. “Oh my god! I meant my height. You can’t help yourself, can you?”
“Not when it comes to you, baby.” I throw him a wink just to see the pink rise to his cheeks.
And… there it is.
“Okay, your choice,” I tell him, scrolling through theJust Danceeighties section. He’s got his first therapy session tomorrow, and as the week has gone by, he’s become more tense. We haven’t run since that morning he came back from the lake. Anytime I ask, he just shakes his head and avoids eye contact.
I miss running together, but I understand his hesitation. I’ve been trying to find ways to help him relax all week; we’ve cooked together and watched movies, talked, and read. But this, dancing, movement, seems to loosen him up. It’s bringing out the happiness I know he has inside him, and I can see how hard he’s trying to hold onto it.
He runs a hand through his hair, bicep flexing against the tight white fabric. He reads through the options on the screen, taking this decision very seriously. “Let’s do ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody.’”
“A wonderful song to lose to,” I say.
“You wish.”
I tap my chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “How about a bet over the next few rounds.”
He rolls his neck from side to side like he’s limbering up. Competitive Gabe is hot. “I’m listening.”
“Every time I win, you take something off,” I say with a smirk.
His eyes narrow playfully. “Desperate to strip for me, are you?”
Fuck me, cheeky Gabe is hotter. I love seeing his confidence bloom. The fact that he can be playful, find even this small piece of joy in the face of what he’s been through, calms a lot of my own fears.
“Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy the view?” I ask innocently.
His eyes take a slow perusal of my body as he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. When his eyes come back to mine, he shrugs. “I’d have to see it again to know for sure.”
My laugh echoes around the living space.
“Oh, it’s on. Prepare to lose, baby.”
“Prepare to strip, Blue.” Determination lines his features.
Well, I guess he wants me naked, then.
I hit start, and the opening bars play. Gabe bounces on the balls of his feet, rolling his shoulders like he’s about to go into a championship fight instead of some eighties choreography.
I take my place beside him, shake my arms out, and crack my neck like a dickhead.
“You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, but he’s grinning.
“Ridiculously into seeing you naked,” I shoot back with a wink, causing him to groan. It’s not a turned-on groan, it’s aI can’t believe this is what I have to deal withgroan.
The countdown begins, and then we’re moving. Gabe hits every move with precision, arms and hips in perfect harmony. I, on the other hand, launch straight into whatever hybrid of a jumping jack and unique type of movement my body decides to attempt. It’s not pretty, I do know that. I never actually claimed to be a good dancer.
“Left, Noah,” he laughs breathlessly. “No, your other left.”
“I’m pretty sure that counts as somebody’s left,” I puff, nearly clotheslining myself with my own arm.
