Page 146 of The Dixon Rule

“Whatever. We’re at four eighty-two K.”

“You know the exact number?” I tease.

“I’m ballparking. But it was four eighty-two the last time I checked. It’s probably eight million now.”

I adore Shane’s flair for hyperbole. It matches my own.

At the potluck, my brother teased me about catching feelings for Shane, and it’s been haunting me ever since. At first, I kept assuring myself it was bullshit. Of course I don’t have feelings for him. We’re just dancing. And having incredible sex. And enjoying each other’s company. Why would anyone think there’s feelings involved? Geez.

But…

Yeah. It’s getting harder to pretend I’m not into Shane. He’s hilarious. Great in bed. So easy to talk to. Sweet when he wants to be.

Lately I’ve been wondering if maybe I want more than just a friends-with-benefits arrangement. Maybe I want—

“Holy shit,” Shane says, jolting me from my thoughts. “And they’re recruiting trolls in the comments.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re telling their followers to go to our page and comment that Viktor and Martinique are better than us.” Shane spits out an expletive. “Who do these assholes think they are? And check out this dude. I could bench press him. I don’t care if he’s like six four. He’s a twig.”

“Calm yourself, big boy.”

“Okay, little one.”

I grin at him. “Those are not becoming nicknames.”

“I don’t know. I like big boy. A lot.” He leers at me.

I hop to my feet. “All right, practice is over. I need to rethink the choreography for this waltz before we go any further. Might have to go take a dance class or two.”

“Isn’t that what this is? Dance classes?”

“I mean with professionals.”

Shane eyes me.

“What?”

“It’s an amateur competition, Dixon. Do you really need to put that much effort into it?”

“Have you met me? I can’t half-ass anything, even if I wanted to. I’m either one hundred percent in or I don’t do it.”

He nods. “Yeah, I get it. I feel the same about hockey.”

“So, yeah, let me think up some easier choreography.”

“Is that what you want to get into eventually? Choreography?”

I shrug. “I haven’t had enough formal training to choreograph real dancers, but I’d enjoy being a cheer coach and doing choreography for competitions. I think I’d be really good at it.”

“I think so too.” He trails after me toward the door. “I’m gonna grab a shower before I come over for the finale. If that’s still the plan for tonight.”

“Obviously.” The winners of Fling or Forever are being announced tonight.

Upstairs, I take a quick shower to rinse off the dance sweat, then put on comfy clothes, feeling lighter than I have in months. I know a large part of that has to do with Percy no longer being at Meadow Hill. The Garrisons are back from Atlanta and back in Sweet Birch, and Percy is all the way across town at his new townhouse.

It’s a huge weight off my chest, being able to walk down the path without worrying about bumping into him. Without worrying about seeing him at the pool. I can already feel my anxiety lessening. Now, when I picture his face, my throat only closes up a little, not completely. My hands tremble but don’t shake.

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