Page 102 of With a Little Luck

“The Beatles?” I say, as John Lennon starts singing aboutgrooving up slowly…

“Abbey Road,” says Ari. “One of the best albums of all time. It seemed fitting.”

Then she’s grabbing my hands and pulling me into the center of the room.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say, jerking away. “What are you doing?”

“What?” she says, apparently unbothered as she starts to dance circles around me, her arms reaching gracefully toward the ceiling. “No one else is here.”259

“There are people outside,” I say, gesturing to the bare windows. “They could see everything.”

“It’s late! There are nopeople,” she says. But she doesn’t push, just keeps vibing to the music.Come together, right now…

I swallow hard, heat flaming across my cheeks as I watch her. I try to mold my expression into something skeptical, something aloof, but it’s not easy. Not when her long hair is swinging against her arched back. Her feet tapping, spinning, tiptoeing across the new floor. Her hips swaying in perfect time with the music.

She looks back at me once, and there must be something truly mortifying about my expression, because she barks out a laugh and punches me in the shoulder. “Are you really just going to stand there?”

“Yep,” I croak.

“Come on, we are celebrating! Another successful open mic night, a soon-to-be-successful Record Store Day, no matter those stupid shipping delays! What else can we celebrate?”

“I thought we were celebrating clean floors.”

“That too!” She keeps dancing, attempting to get me to move with her. I staunchly refuse, which only makes her try harder, until it becomes a game. Her shoulders rubbing against mine. Her hands molding my body into poses that are almost dancelike. Ari is singing along now, too.Got to be good-looking, ’cause he’s so hard to see!

My heart pounds along with the drums in the background, and I am so grateful when the song finally comes to an end.

“Welp, that was fun,” I say, heading toward the record player.

“No, wait!” Ari says, laughing as she latches on to my arm. The next song begins. Slow and sweet and hypnotic. One of the Beatles’ most well-known love songs.

Something in the way …

“I know you’ll dance with me to this one,” she says. “You have to.”

Panic rushes through me. “Why do I have to dance to this?” I ask, trying to keep my voice from feeling strained.260

“Because if you’re taking Maya to prom, you’re going to have to slow dance.”

My lips part in surprise. Doesn’t she know?

But no—how could she? I haven’t said anything about it.

“Come on, wimp,” she says, taking my hand and placing it on her waist. The movement is so fast, so no-nonsense, I hardly register what’s happening until it’s done. The feel of her soft shirt under my palm, and the smallest sliver of bare skin where her shirt rides up. My breath catches in my throat. She settles one hand on my shoulder, takes the other into hers. Old-fashioned slow dancing. “Just one song?”

My heart is thumping madly, like it’s trying to escape. Does she feel the way my arm is shaking? Is my hand sweating too much?

Every instinct is telling me I need to escape from this, and fast, before things get dramatically out of control.

Before Ari realizes—

“Jude,” she stays sternly. “Don’t make this weird.”

“It’s already weird,” I respond immediately.

She sighs, and I can tell I’ve disappointed her. “You’re hopeless.”

“I’m sorry.”

---