Page 41 of Deliverance

“Invite him over to the dance-off.”

“Why would I do that?”

“For assessment, babe. For assessment.”

I pin my friend with a long, hard stare while he tosses his food around his box with his chopsticks. We finish our dinner in silence and then hang out for a couple of hours. It’s almost nine when Santiago leaves and I finally feel brave enough to make the call.

My pulse is abnormally fast and my heart rebels against my ribcage like a teenager would against all the rules. I can’t remember the last time I was so nervous and it’s a strange feeling, forgotten and almost foreign.

“Hey.” Zander’s voice punctures my thoughts. He sounds out of breath and there’s music in the background. Something very fast and very aggressive.

“Hi. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

“No. I just finished practicing,” he supplies an explanation and the song dies. “How are you?”

“Slammed with a bunch of projects,” I tell him, which is only a half-truth, but I don’t want him to think I purposely waited two days to call him back. “You?”

“I’m great. I’m glad to hear your voice.”

My stupid heart leaps to my throat. “Are you?”

“Yes.”

Talking to him on the phone is weird. I remember watching The Deviant’s music videos on YouTube as a teen and wondering how long it took the guys to put on all that makeup and whether they cleaned the paint off their faces before getting busy with the groupies at the backstage afterparties. Ah, the naiveté of youth.

For a second, I contemplate asking, but before I embarrass myself to the point of no return, I decide to get right down to business. Attack is the best defense, after all. And it’s always worked like a charm for Santiago. “What are you doing next Friday evening?”

“Nothing, last time I checked.” He sounds equally confused and taken aback.

“My friends and I have a thing. Wanna join us?”

“A thing, huh?” His voice drops to a husky whisper. “Do I get any further information?”

“No. It’s a bit of a secret.”

“I don’t need to wear a tux or anything?”

His question elicits a small laugh out of me. “Jeans are fine.”

“Okay. I’ll put thethingon my calendar then.”

“Great.”

“Do you want me to pick you up?”

“No, but I’ll send you more details closer to Friday.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to get me in trouble. I gotta warn you, I’m a horrible gateway driver.”

“It’s not that kind of trouble.”

“So it is trouble.”

“Depends.”

“All right. I’ll make sure I wear my most comfortable jeans, just in case we need to make a run for it.”

“See you next week, Zander.”

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