Page 113 of Crazy for this Girl

“Did you ever get any tips from your shitty roommate, Natalie?”

I scoff. “Like she’d ever tell me. That chick brought a pillowcase of money home last night.”

“Bitch.” Khloe gets off her stool too and straightens out her tight pink dress that makes her look like a modern Pretty in Pink character.

“Surprised?”

“Hell no. Like I said, bitch.”

“I got your song, babe.” My brows knit as my best friend’s lift, her pretty hazels flicking to the male voice behind me.

You seriously have got to be kidding.

Taylor shows up at my side and holds out a hand for me to take. “Took some convincing but I got the DJ to play it when I mentioned your name.”

Who’s spinning tonight, Ron? Adrian? Because one of them is dead tonight.

“Oh, wow…” I try to sound surprised and honored, but I’m so not in the mood for this. This girl just wanted to grab a drink. But I’m still going to give good ol’ college boy an A-plus for effort. “I twisted my ankle earlier today.”

“Wow,” Khloe emits from my side. “And you’re still wearing heels.”

This bitch.

Taylor glances down at my feet. “Wanna take ‘em off?”

Dude…

“No.” I blankly stare at him, but he’s too half in the bag to even take the hint.

He wiggles his fingers for me to hurry before the song ends—because that would be a tragedy, wouldn’t it—and, well, who am I to screw up someone’s night when he went through all the effort? He can look cool in front of his friends and I’ll…get this over with.

Taking his offered hand, I mumble for Khloe to grab me a shot of tequila as Taylor guides us to the heavily crowded dance floor.

We get through the edge when he turns around and grabs my other hand, holding them both over his head so we can squeeze through. When he finds a small little space, he turns around and smiles.

Nice.

Big.

And happy.

I can’t help but smile back, knowing this is stupid, but, hey, I’m out here already and this will score me some good karma. Bringing joy to some stranger who thought this was the best idea ever.

He begins to sway his hips to the beat, getting into the rhythm, which isn’t hard. He’s not a bad dancer. Actually, he’s pretty good, and when I start to move, he urges me on with a whistle.

Grabbing my hand, he spins me in the small amount of space we have, and my spine finds his chest. His large palm locates my hips as he takes the lead; we’re not flush together in an awkward way, which is nice because I’ve had some really weird dances with guys here.

Comfortable with him as my dancing partner, I grab his hand and raise it, turning around to face him. With our hands laced and mangled together, we don’t sync like a perfectly coordinated couple, but he’s fun. He laughs, and I follow along, stepping closer and back in a bad rendition of salsa dancing.

Twirling my hips, his arm wraps around them for a second before he pivots and places his ass practically in my hands. I die from laughter, feeling the edges of my stress from the week fall off and onto the dance floor. I cover my mouth and Taylor smiles over his shoulder, attempting to twerk at a song that has no business having that done to it.

When the song ends, he gets us out of the crowd. Tapping me on the bicep before I can get back to Khloe, he tells me, “I’ll be back in a few days. Can I request your table?”

My lips lift naturally because he’s either not that observant or just that buzzed. I’m not wearing the uniform to even work here to begin with. “I don’t work here anymore. I’m a normal guest like everyone else now.”

“Oh, shit.” His eyes widen at his mistake of dragging me out when I really didn’t need to. “I’m sorry.”

I give him a wink. “Don’t tell your friends. It was fun.”

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