I cast a desperate look at the maelstrom of bodies. If I said no, he’d think I was a coward. But if I said yes ... I had no idea what would happen. If only my friends were here to advise me.
My friends! What if they looked over and saw me swaying in Alex Ritter’s arms?
“I can’t.” The words were aimed at my feet. When I risked a glance at Alex, he lowered his chin as if reaching a decision.
“Come on.” Taking my hand, he led me through the crowd, carving a winding path toward the far end of the gym.
When we reached the exit, I hesitated. “Where are we going?”
He gave me one of his rakish grins. “There’s only one way to find out, Merrily.”
I didn’t let myself think about the fact that he’d probably used that same smile on dozens of girls before me, or that I’d read far too many cautionary tales to be taken in by such an obvious lure. Alex leaned against the door, and I followed him into the darkened hall.
Dear Diary,
Why do people in books always let themselves do things they know they’ll regret? It’s like they’ve never heard of self-control. I just want to yell at the page,Stop! Before it’s too late!
M.P.M.
Chapter 25
He backed past the glass-walled trophy case,tugging me gently in his wake. The sounds of the dance were muffled, like the distant thump of a clothes dryer.
“Ready?” he asked.
I said nothing, unwilling to expose my ignorance by asking,For what?
“It’s easy.” He stepped nearer, placing one of my hands on his shoulder while his other arm circled my waist. “Just follow my lead.”
My full attention was on the feel of his palm against my back, so it came as something of a shock when he started counting,one-two-three, one-two-three,stepping forward on the secondone.I had no choice but to move with him, stumbling slightly in my heels. Alex tightened his grip to steady me.
“You know how to dance.” It came out slightly breathless, as we rounded the corner at the far end of the hall.Reallydance, I meant. With a partner. Not like the scrum I’d witnessed in the gym. At the same time part of me thought,Of course he can dance. Alex could probably work up a decent sonnet or arrange flowers, too—anything that fell in the broaderwooingcategory.
“My sisters made me take lessons with them at the rec center. There weren’t enough guys signed up for the class.” He pulled me to a stop. “I can just about fake my way through a waltz.”
I blurted the first piece of information that popped into my head. “It used to be considered scandalous—the waltz.”
“You sure you’re not thinking of the Lambada?”
I shook my head. “Back then the dances had a lot less contact.” My hand sketched the distance between our bodies, until I realized what I was doing and dropped my arms to my sides.
“I wonder what they would have said about the junior high sway.”
Seeing the blankness of my expression (my old school had not gone in for dances), he drew my hands up to his neck. Placing his palms at my waist, he pulled me closer.
“Nice dress, Merrily.” His gaze was warm across the bare skin at my shoulders and neck.
I pretended to be fascinated with something behind him, though the only thing on the wall was a tattered poster about the importance of hand-washing during cold and flu season. “We just rock back and forth?”
“Yep. It’s like a hug set to music.” He crossed his arms behind me, narrowing the gap between us even further.
“This is a lot closer than a waltz.” My voice sounded as wobbly as our side-to-side movements.
“Shocking,” he agreed as his cheek came to rest against mine.
“Mysisters let me come to their stage combat class,” I said, when the silence was too much.
He leaned away far enough to look at my face. “Is that your way of telling me to back off?”
