Page 27 of You Started It

“You’re still in one another’s lives even if Ben is temporarily dating someone else. Their ongoing connection will benefit you. It’s an advantage you have over Olivia.”

I sigh. “You’re right. It sucks and I hate to admit it, but you’re right. How are you so zen?”

“It’s the dancing.” He grins and it has a mirroring effect on me, but I try to hide it. “Too late. I saw that smile. Come on, try it.”

“Try what?”

“Dancing.” Axel pulls out his phone and messes with it for a second before a song begins to play.

“I can’t dance.”

“I can teach you.”

“Okay,” I say, releasing a nervous laugh. “Let me make this clearer. Idon’tdance.”

Axel places his phone atop a stack of books on my desk and then shoves the piles of clothes on my floor aside with his feet. “This should be enough space. Just throw your arms over my shoulders. Trust me.”

Trust him? I don’t trust anyone. “I seriously have two left feet.”

“Your feet don’t need to do anything they’re not already doing. Come on, arms over my shoulders.”

I grit my teeth and glance around my room. It’s a complete disaster and Axel didn’t even flinch. Nothing about me seems to faze him.

“Fine.” I swallow before lifting my arms to his broad shoulders. “Now what?”

Axel places his hands around my waist. “You a fan of Dua Lipa?”

“Is that some kind of trendy food?”

He laughs, just short of a snort. “No. She’s a singer. It’s her song we’re dancing to.”

“You call this dancing?” I look at him and down at our feet.

Axel eases in a bit closer and his hands move lower, guiding my hips to sway left and right. “Look at that. They move. I thought we were going to have to bust out some lube.”

I freeze in place. “Uh…what?!”

“I meant like oil, to grease your hips. Sorry.” He removes his hands, his cheeks flaming red. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Why?”

“You know, for a smart girl, you’re really clueless.”

“How so?” I take a step back, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Jamie, we’re in your bedroom. I’m a guy, you’re a girl, we’re standing close, music is playing, you’re coming off a fight with your mom—there’s a palpable heat,” he says, waving a hand in the space between us.

I bark out a laugh and stare up at the ceiling. Who does this kid think he is?

“There is no heat. This is…” I say, flailing my hands in front of me. “We’re not…it’s fake.”

“Yet we’re alone in your room and I’m teaching you how to dance.”

“You’re forcing me to dance. This is exactly why we need a contract.”

“Fine. Whatever. Draw up your contract. I’ll have my lawyer go over it.” He picks up his phone and turns off the music. “I’ll wait for your uncle outside.”

“You don’t need to do that,” I say as he heads to my bedroom door with his things. Regret and shame collide in my stomach.Why am I like this?

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