“You don’t dance.”
“I do tonight.”
He spins in a small circle.
Then points at the band like he’s acknowledging their hard work. “Fantastic rhythm section.”
He grabs my hands and gently pulls me into the rhythm with him.
“Just go with it,” he says.
“Go with what?!”
“The vibe.”
He starts bouncing lightly to the beat, shoulders rolling in a way that is surprisingly smooth for a six-foot-three hockey player.
Then he attempts what I can only describe as enthusiastic improvisation.
A little shuffle step. A shoulder pop. A completely unnecessary spin.
He looks so cute and carefree it’s almost too much.
Across the room, Connor spots us and freezes mid-sip, elbowing Marcus.
Rhys slowly lowers his glass.
Declan leans over to see what they’re looking at.
And then all four of them lose it.
Meanwhile Jake is thriving.
He points finger guns at the drummer.
The drummer points back.
Jake beams.
He keeps moving, completely unbothered by the fact that half the ballroom is now watching.
At one point he slides sideways across the floor like he’s on ice.
It’s… actually kind of impressive.
“How do you even know how to do that?” I ask.
“I have rhythm,” he says confidently.
“You play hockey.”
“Same concept.”
The music gets a little louder and Jake gets a little more creative.
He does a tiny hop. Then a shoulder shimmy.
Then what might be the world’s happiest version of a hockey victory dance.
