Page 77 of The Step Dare

“Nice moves, Tay.”

“Shut up and dance with me.”

“Guys, you have to look my direction when you speak,” Sadie tells us.

Shit. I’ll have to be better about that. It strikes me then that that might be why they’re so close to the speaker. Sadie isusing the vibrations to dance. That also explains the iPad she’s carrying.

I glance up to see her mom lingering close, and the knowing look tells me she sees I’m putting it all together in my head.

I make sure to face Sadie as I say, “He’s a terrible dancer!” He’s not, really, but it’s fine to give him shit.

“Let’s seeyourmoves,” she replies, and I can tell she’ll be a force to be reckoned with when she’s older.

No way I’m not taking my moment to shine, though, so I start dancing. I take Taylor’s hands, trying to get him to move with me.

“I’m not dancing with you. You just said I’m terrible. You didn’t think that at Crave.”

No, no I didn’t. But I ignore that. With my hands on his hips, I say, “Loosen up. Pretend…” I throw a glance at Sadie and switch direction. “Just don’t be so stiff.”

He laughs, and there’s not a doubt in my mind that he knows I was going to make a joke about fucking.

Sadie is in her own world. It’s clear she loves dancing, and as unsure as she was about coming inside, she’s living it up now, throwing her arms up in this carefree way that is contagious. When I let go of Taylor, Sadie grabs his hands, twisting the two of them and getting him to move faster, to get into what we’re doing. She does a circle around him, Taylor spinning to follow, but she ducks under his arm and he drops his head back and laughs, just getting lost in the moment while I can’t help but get lost in him.

We stay out there for a good twenty minutes, dancing and laughing until my stomach hurts.

When I take Taylor’s hand again and lift it, Sadie winks at me, walks under our arms like a bridge, and then just…keeps going.

“Where is she heading?” I ask.

Sadie turns around and tosses a playful grin our direction, then signs something to her mom, who waves at us and follows her.

Taylor shrugs. He doesn’t let go, doesn’t pull away, so I don’t either. We keep dancing, our bodies moving in unison.

But then Lance cuts in and announces, “We’re going to slow it down for a few minutes,” and Taylor and I just stand there like a couple of idiots.

“You want to dance with me, Bren?” Taylor asks, and okay, why do I have goose bumps from such a simple question?

“Since you asked so nicely.” I pull him closer, and we squeeze each other tightly, no space between us as we sway to the music.

“We should have tried this at prom,” Taylor says close to my ear.

“Our dates might have been a little upset. I don’t think they would’ve been as understanding as the teenage matchmaker who just left us.”

We chuckle, Taylor’s chest vibrating against mine. I inhale his scent, a heady mix of cologne and sweat, and damned if I don’t immediately feel drunk off it.

A picture of my parents dancing together in the kitchen fills my head, making my hand fist in Taylor’s shirt.

“You tensed up,” he says.

“Just thinking,” I reply, then shake my head. It wasn’t that long ago I was going to just ask him what’s going on with us, see if he’s feeling more too, but then Marty happened, and now I’m dancing all close to him and stalling. “My parents used to dance a lot like this. Dad and I were talking about it the other day.”

He pulls back a little so he can look at me. “Yeah? Then I’m glad I asked you.”

And somehow, it’s the most perfect thing in the world he could have said and prompts me to open my mouth and blurt out, “What are we?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,what are we? Are we still just best friends and future stepbrothers who have sex? Because lately—and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same—but lately, I feel like we’re…”

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