“You and Liv danced together?” Rachel’s eyes widen, and she looks from me to Liv.
I can’t help noticing Liv’s cheeks are bright red, and sheappears to be sinking lower into the vinyl beside Miss Gina as if she’s trying to hide.
“Are y’all having a party back here without me?” Allie runs up, climbing into the booth behind Rachel on her knees. She puts her elbows on the back of the seat and leans forward. “What’d I miss?”
“Apparently Garrett and Liv are some kind of dancing duo!” Rachel shouts over the strains of Disco Inferno.
“What?”
“You should’ve seen them,” Dylan coos from where she’s still on my back. “They were like Johnny and Baby. It was hot.”
“Are you saying they didn’t leave room for Jesus?” Allie’s brow arches, her hazel eyes flashing.
“Only if Jesus were really,reallythin.” Dylan laughs.
“I dance better than Baby.” Liv sits a little straighter, seeming offended.
“You’ll do it?” Dylan’s entire body bounces higher on my back.
“That’s enough.” I reach around and poke her in the ribs, which makes her squeal and hop off me. “Liv doesn’t want to dance with me.”
“I don’t believe it.” Dylan sits on the edge of the booth beside my ex. “You love to dance, just like I do. I remember how happy you were dancing.”
“I stopped dancing a long time ago.” Liv’s eyes drift to her lap.
“But why?” Dylan’s voice is soft, and I know my former prima-ballerina little sister can’t imagine anyone would give up something she loved so much unless she was forced.
“It’s a cut-throat, misogynist field.” An edge is in her tone.
My little sister hesitates, then she wrinkles her nose. “Nothing like practicing law.”
Liv’s lips twist, and she narrows her eyes playfully. “Touché.”
“Oh, Liv.” Dylan shifts in her seat, hugging her. “It’ll make you smile, I just know it will.”
My chest is tight as I look down at her. I can’t think of anything I’d like more than to hold Liv in my arms and sway to the music like we used to do, but I’ll be damned if I’m about to pressure her to do anything.
“What do you think?” Her eyes lift to mine in a hesitant question.
“I’m not cutting any throats, and I have only the utmost respect for women.”
Her green eyes roll, and she shakes her head, laughing. “If I even remember how.”
“I bet you remember.”
I bet she remembers a lot of things.
3
Olivia
We don’t grind.
Garrett puts a hand on my waist and clasps my hand in his other in a respectable pose. I hold his muscled shoulder, and we leave plenty of room between us for Jesus.
Dylan and Craig were clearly in cahoots to make this happen, because all the hot disco songs have suspiciously changed. There’s no more Pitbull, no more Chappell Roan or Donna Summers. In their place is slow-dance, heartstrings-pulling country.
We’re currently moving in time to “Under My Skin” by Nate Smith. My eyes are fixed on Garrett’s chest, and his large hand holds mine so gently. He’s not forcing me. He actually seemed as uncomfortable as I was by Dylan’s persistence.