"Oh, I'm sorry," she says, as Brad goes over more details.
Considering she's a little messed up, I figure I might as well make one last effort. "Will you save me a dance at the after party?"
"I don't know," she says with a playful smirk. "Can you dance?"
Can I dance? Of course, I can dance.
But . . . an idea pops into my brain.
I put my head down in embarrassment.
It works. She says, "Oh my gosh. Is that why you only wanted to dance to slow songs? Is that all you know how to do?"
"I'll get my French homework done before tutoring. You can teach me to dance instead."
"I don't really feel like dancing, Aiden. The knee and all."
No way she's getting off that easily.
"I've gone above and beyond the call of duty in Social Committee. It's not something I really had the time to do, but I did it for you. So you owe me."
No rhythm.
4:40pm Keatyn is in my room after school, getting ready to teach me how to dance.
"This is silly," she says. "I can't teach you how to dance. Plus, I'm injured."
"I saw you jogging at soccer practice, even though I doubt you were supposed to."
She giggles. "I took another pain pill. Felt healed."
I raise an eyebrow at her, causing her to give me a dramatic sigh. She turns on a dance playlist, grabs my hips, and moves them to the beat.
Well, tries to.
I pretend to have no rhythm.
She seems to give up, turning around. I'm about to tell her the truth when she stands in front of me, pushes her back firmly into my chest, and pulls my arm around her waist.
Then she grinds her ass into me.
Holy shit.
I grind back, forgetting that I'm not supposed to know how and simply loving the feel of her body-and kinda wishing we were naked. I consider sliding my hands up her skirt.
She puts her hands on top of mine and moves them around her body in the name of dancing.
And I'm pretty sure I've died and gone to heaven.
After about six songs, there's a moment when I feel myself start to harden. I've been controlling myself pretty well up until now, but she just slid my hand across from her stomach down further. And there's only so much a guy can take.
So I don't embarrass myself, I spin her out of my arms and break out my dance moves.
"What the hell?" she says with a genuine look of surprise on her face. "Did you used to be in a boy band? Are you here in some embarrassment protection program?" I give her a sneaky grin as she shakes her head at me. "Don't tell me you can sing, too."
Now that I've regained control, I find myself going back for more. "We'll have to save that for another day, Boots. I don't want to overwhelm you with all my talents at once."
"Everyone says you have great hands," she says.
"These?" I ask, holding them up in front of her.
She studies them, then glides a finger across my pinkie and middle finger. "What happened here?"
"Knife attack. In the war," I tease.
"Very funny."
"Fine. Cleat attack."
"Now I know why you're such a good goalie," she says, further examining my hands.
"Because I'm fast." I quickly slap the tops of her hands. Like the game we used to play when we were kids.
She slaps mine back quickly, surprising me. "Not fast enough," she says with an adorable smirk. She takes my hands in hers again, holding them up and scrutinizing them. "They're too big for your body."
"What do you mean?"
"Proportionately. They're off. They're too big." She tilts her head at me, taking in my six-foot-two-inch frame. "That, or you're not done growing yet."
"I'm probably not done growing yet," I shrug, then start doing the robot to the music. I'd much rather be dancing with her.
"You so know how to dance," she says with a laugh.
"Naw, you're just a really good teacher. I couldn't do this until today."
"You're such a liar. How do you know how to dance like this? You dance alone in your room to music videos or something?"
"No. I have a bossy older sister."
"So?"
"So, instead of wanting to play school or Barbies, she wanted to play dance instructor. If I played nice, she snuck me cookies."
"So everyone at school knows you can dance like this but me, right? Very funny. Ha. Ha. You tricked me."
I take a step closer to her, wrap my arm around her waist, and put my leg between hers-our lower halves entwining in an intimate way.
"You're the only one at school who knows I can dance like this. Well, besides my sister."
"Why?"
"Because it's embarrassing. You asked me if I was in a boy band witness protection program or something."
"Ohmigawd, did your mom video tape it? I'm so asking your sister."
I stifle a laugh. Seriously, she's so cute. And I have so much fun with her. Doing nothing. Although with the heat radiating off her leg, I probably can't call this nothing. Somehow, I don't think Dawson would be thrilled to see us like this. Not that I care. I practically live for these moments. And tonight has just reconfirmed what my heart says-she's not in love with Dawson. And that means I still have a chance. "You are not. Or you'll be in trouble."
"Oh, really?" she sasses, getting in my face. "What kind of trouble?"
I grab her ass firmly in each hand, squeeze it, and raise an eyebrow in challenge.
She does the same, grabbing the back of my jeans. She licks her lips as she pulls my shirt up over my head and tosses it on the floor.
I slide my hands across her curves, from her thin waist to her slender hips.
She responds by gliding her fingers down my sides.
"You gonna do that at the dance?" I ask.
"Maybe." She plants her palms firmly on my pecs, then closes her eyes and dances with me-grinding on my leg.
I don't care anymore if she can tell how much she turns me on.
When we danced during our twenty-nine songs, it was our bodies pressed together and swaying, barely moving and completely caught up in each other. This is different-a playful mix of crazy fun and sinfully sexy foreplay.
A faster song starts, and she pushes off my chest, jumps up and down, then turns around and shakes her shapely ass at me. It takes everything I have not to pick her up, throw her on my bed, and ravish her.
But I'm enjoying this moment with her too much. There will be plenty of time for that later, so I spin her around and put my knee back between her legs.
She runs her hands over my shoulders, so I start a fast, exaggerated version of a waltz-pulling her toward me, spinning her out, then back in tightly to my chest.
She's only wearing a little bra top, so I place my hand on her bare stomach and caress it, causing her to reach up and wrap her arm around my neck.
I drop my head, allowing our cheeks to touch. Even though the beat is fast, our bodies have slowed down. I let my hands roam slowly across her body, causing her to shiver in their wake.
Then the music stops.
She turns around to face me.
Our faces are so close.
Our lips torturously closer.
My hand tangles in her hair, and I look into her eyes, knowing they convey both fire and love.
She lets out a big breath of air, her posture suddenly shifting.
"I think you're ready for the dance," she says, grabbing her jacket from my chair.
I steal it from her and plop down on the futon.
"Dance for me," I command. I'm not ready for her to leave, and I could tell by the look on her face, she just thought about Dawson. About how she shouldn't have been dancing with me like that. But she couldn't really help it. She belongs with me.
"Dance for you?" she asks.
"Yeah."
"You wanna see my Kiki stripper moves?" she laughs, trying to make a joke. "Cuz I really don't have any."
"No. I want to see you move. Show me your new routine. My sister's been telling me about it."
"I can't show you. It's totally top secret."
"It's either that or I pull you on this futon and make a cheater out of you." And I'm so not kidding at this moment. Her hands all over me have left me on fire.
"Look, Aiden. It's nice that we're getting along better. But I like Dawson, and I shouldn't have danced with you like that. I don't want to give you the wrong idea. So if I'm going to keep tutoring you, it'll have to be in the library. No more dances. No more almost kisses. No more talking on my neck."
"But you and Dawson aren't exclusive. You still aren't wearing the key. So go on a date with me. Date us both."
She seems to consider this by staring into my eyes, maybe trying to decide if I'm serious or not.
"I'm sorry, Aiden, but I can't date a guy like you. A guy who can't decide if he loves me or hates me." I'm going to counter her argument, tell her how I feel, but she says, "And I know we had some crazy love at first sight thing, but we obviously would be a disaster together."
She felt it, too.
I can't help but grin. She just admitted that she loves me.
A smile spreads across my face. I tap my foot, my whole body practically humming.
"Why are you grinning?"
"Love at first sight, huh?"
"No. It's just an expression. That stuff doesn't happen in real life," she says, unconvincingly.
I stand up and move close, my chest touching hers. She sucks in a breath and moves slightly backward.
But when she takes a step back, I take another step forward.
She takes another step backward into my wall. Now there's nowhere for her to go.
I put my palms on the wall, boxing her in. The fire I've been feeling-the desire-is practically radiating off my body. I've never felt this kind of hunger before.
She sighs and closes her eyes.
I let my cheek graze against hers as I whisper in her ear. If she wants to play hard to get, well, two can play at that game. "I think being just your friend will be fun."
She doesn't open her eyes, just pants out, "How so?"