Page 20 of Taking A Chance

I down the last of the wine in my glass and then go change my clothes, throwing on a ratty old pair of leggings I refuse to part with and an oversized T-shirt with a wide neck. Since I’m staying in the building, I don’t even bother with a bra. I hoist my laundry bag over my shoulder and descend the stairs to the basement. Yes, it would be easier to use the elevator when carrying a large laundry bag. No, I still won’t use that elevator.

In the basement laundry room, I toss my clothes into the wash and pop in my headphones. Waiting is the worst part. But no one is here and I see no occupied machines anyone would come back for, so I scroll through my music and put on my laundry playlist. Why exercise when you can just dance? That’s my motto.

The music plays in my ears and I start dancing, immediately zoning out right here in the laundry room—no audience, no restrictions. I swing my hips and snake my body, running my hands down my sides before dipping low. All is right in my world when I’m dancing. Granted, it’s not like I’ve had professional training, but I happen to think I’m pretty good. Maybe it’s not the foxtrot, but I can do thoseDirty Dancingmoves with the best of them.

When the washing machine stops, I transition my clothes to the dryer, all while moving and shaking what my momma gave me. And between you and me, my momma gave me a lot.

With the exception of the bar the other night, I haven’t danced since Lyla’s wedding. She and her hubby Gentry threw a hell of a Southern wedding.God, what a mess that was.Well, for me. Not the wedding itself. My date flaked on me halfway through and started flirting with a waitress on the catering staff, leaving me alone at my table most of the night. I managed to sneak a few dances in with other people here and there, but for the most part, I got to sit and watch Lyla and Gentry be in love and Harper and Jensen fall in love. Let’s just say it’s a good thing my friend made it an open bar.

One of my favorite songs fills my ears, and it’s a dirty one, so naturally my dancing gets dirtier. I grasp the edge of the folding table in the laundry room so I can dip all the way down to the floor and back up, swaying my hips and letting my booty shake away.

With no warning, I feel a yank at my headphones, and they fall out of my ears before dangling at my waist. “What the hell?” I yell, whirling around to see what the fuck is happening.

I come face to face with Declan’s arms folded neatly across his chest. A wide smile is plastered across his face and I want to claw his eyes out for what I’m sure he just saw.

To make matters worse, the headphones disconnect from my iPhone then, causing the song that was privately playing to now echo throughout the entire room. The basement acoustics are surprisingly good. So, let’s stop right there; because do you remember that songMy Neck, My Back? The one your parents probably refused to let you listen to because of how filthy it is? And by filthy, I mean filthy good. Well, Elle King covered it, and that’s what I’m listening to. And she’s going on aboutmy pussy and my crackas I make eye contact with Declan.

“Sorry,” he says. “I just wanted to see what song had you feeling so good.” He pauses, listening to another line of the song and how the man needs to put his neck into it. “This makes sense.” He nods his head gently up and down, as if there’s no more confusion.

“Do you always sneak up on people and yank their headphones out or am I just that unlucky?” I accuse.

“To be fair, I stood in the doorway for several minutes and you didn’t even notice me,” he says.

“So the next logical thing to do is rip something from my ears?” My voice is slightly elevated, the song continuing to play out loud from the machine in my pocket. Maybe my cheeks are red with embarrassment or maybe they’re red in anger, I’m not sure, but I can feel the heat.

“Like I said, I wanted to know what song you were listening to,” he says, so matter of fact. His shoulders pull up and slump back down in the slightest of shrugs, like it isn’t a big deal.

“Do you just like pissing me off on purpose?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I mean, you are kind of cute when you’re yelling at me, but no,” he says.

Cute? I’m cute.The confession throws me slightly off kilter and I fumble to form my next sentence.

I roll my eyes, not conceding my original point. “Anyway,” I say, changing the topic when I realize a more thorough apology isn’t coming, “I have your jacket upstairs. I had it cleaned. I’ll bring it over after I’m finished here.”

“I take it this means you won’t sit so I can finish your painting?” he says, unfolding his arms. His jaw tightens, hands gripping and loosening over and over again at his sides.

“I think it’s best I don’t,” I say.

“Why are you so stubborn?” he asks.

“Why are you so stoic and oblivious to social norms?” I reply.

Declan rubs his hand over his stubbled chin, releasing a long, deep sigh. “I wish I knew the answer to that.”

He turns to leave without another word. My dirty song is still playing, the last verse about rolling your tongue from the back to the front serenading me. I stare at Declan’s back as he leaves. Once he’s gone from my sight, I stare at the empty space he previously occupied.

Flabbergasted. The word is flabbergasted. That’s what I am.

What the hell is that guy’s problem?

14

Declan

Social norms?What’s asocial normanyway? The majority group decided what’s acceptable behavior and what makes you a weirdo? That seems unfair.

More importantly, since she left my place last night, I’ve felt like a total shit.

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