Page 28 of Big Man on Campus

I laugh as he walks away because he knows I’m not done dancing. Next to making little boys and girls laugh, dancing is my favorite non-X-rated thing to do.

Dooley struts onto the makeshift dance floor with Phoebe and I challenge him to a dance-off. Nothing makes me feel more alive like dancing and I’ve missed it these last years, confined to only dancing with three-year-olds at the church day care.

“What’s a dance-off?” Phoebe asks.

“It’s where we dance nonstop until we drop and whoever drops last wins.”

“I’m down with that,” she says. I’m surprised and my mouth automatically turns up in a smile though she doesn’t return it. Kace thinks she’ll be a tough nut to crack, but I’m determined to do it. If Phoebe turns out to be a friend rather than an enemy, it’ll ease Kace’s worry about me. He doesn’t say it, but I know he’s worried.

“Let’s do it.” Dooley claps his hands.

“I have to warn you, dancing is my thing,” I say.

“The loser buys drinks,” Phoebe shouts and puts up her hands to high five each of us as she starts moving. She has some hot moves and I know this is an endurance contest, not a style contest, but dance is my thing and I can’t help the competitive shot of adrenaline that gets me going.

It doesn’t take long before I lose myself in the flow and beat of the music, forgetting the crowd, channeling my energy into moving my body to give expression to the notes, the lyrics, and most of all the beat. Four songs in and we’ve taken up all the space on the dance floor. Six songs in and Dooley drops out, but stays to watch, leading the gathering audience around me and Phoebe. Ten songs in, counting because I mark the change in each one, change my rhythm and moves each time, I see Kace watching me, admiring, but not quite smiling, still worried.

Maybe I should throw the contest, let Phoebe win to encourage friendship instead of rivalry. Because I suddenly realize this contest is between the two of us, that she considers us rivals even though we’re not. Because the real contest, for Kace’s affections, is over. Because he’s mine. So I don’t need to win a silly dance contest. The least I can do is let her win that. Before the tenth song ends, I slow and twirl my way to Kace and stop in his arms, waving to Phoebe that she’s won.

Dooley leads the cheers, making it clear that Phoebe won some kind of contest though the crowd has no idea what he’s talking about. The sense of competition is in the air. Only Phoebe doesn’t look thrilled. Her smile is brittle and her eyes flash to me and Kace before she turns away.

Shit. She really doesn’t know the contest for Kace is over, does she? She’s not conceding graciously or otherwise.

A waitress comes over with a pitcher of beers to the table where Kace brings us, his crowd of BMOC guys all there and a few girls I don’t know. Phoebe follows us and I know she’s part of the crowd and a good friend of Fitz’s.

“A pitcher on the house for the dance performance,” the waitress says, smiling at Dooley. “I bet you’re the producer of the show.”

“Guilty.” Dooley winks at me because he’s taking credit unabashedly and I laugh. The waitress pours several glasses and I take one, dying of thirst, dying to feel the buzz, to relieve the tension. It’ll be okay. I’ve been good tonight. I’ll sweat it off on the dance floor. I drink it down.

“Take it easy,” Kace says. His smile is tight.

“No worries,” I say. “A handsome young man promised to take me home with him tonight.” That puts a more than pleased look on his face.

The crowd at the table is all jocks and Fitz gets Kace embroiled in a discussion about their opposing team for the first game of the season coming up in a couple of weeks. Dooley and I wander back to the dance floor.

This time when I dance, a guy I don’t recognize joins me and when the song is over he asks my name, tells me he’s Zak, and offers me a glass of beer. I’m about to accept it when Dooley shakes his head no. I hesitate for a second, but I could use a cold drink so I take it anyway and take a sip—or try to.

Kace appears at my side and takes the glass from me, putting it on the nearby table.

“What—?” I’m about to ask him what he’s doing, but it’s clear, even in my buzzed head, that he’s playing my conscience, saving me from myself and the instant of resentment disappears, replaced by fiery shame.

“I’ll get you some ice water. Let’s go.”

“What the hell,” Zak says, then narrows his eyes at Kace. “Aren’t you the drunk driver? You should butt out.” He reaches out to take my arm. Zak is tallish, but soft and no competition at all for Kace. I hope to hell he backs down because I know Kace has limits to what he’ll put up with. Searching my head for something to say to diffuse things, my mind is too fuzzy.

“Back off,” Kace says, his jaw tight. “She’s with me.” Kace takes my elbow and his grip is tight. I feel the tension in his fingers, in his entire body.

“She deserves better than you,” Zak says. His words flash my blood to boiling like an Instant Pot, steaming with anger.

“You’re wrong!” I shout at the guy, who I suddenly want to slap in the face. He can’t talk about Kace that way. “It’s the other way around. Kace deserves better than me.” I shout. I don’t care that people are watching us now. Kace tugs at my arm.

“It’s okay, sunshine. Let it go.”

“You’re kidding me?” Zak says. “You’re with him? Then you must be a jersey chaser—”

Those are the last words he should have said. Kace flinches and grabs the front of Zak’s shirt, practically growling.

“Apologize. Now.” Although he seems to have mellowed, Kace has been known for his flash temper and Zak is stunned and silent. I’m worried there’ll be a fight and Kace will get into trouble, so I get between them and push at Zak’s chest.