Page 70 of Raised On It

“Of course, he did. She thinks that boy hung the moon. She needs his kind of fun tonight, though. She’s so stressed about me going to Africa.” She’s looking at me when she speaks. Telling me without words that this is what he does. He makes people feel good.

From the looks of it, Rachel isn’t kidding. Her mom is all smiles, and you can hear her squeals of delight all the way over here.

There’s no keeping my eyes off him or the smile from my face.

He’s right.

This is one of the reasons I love him.

He’s a flirt.

But in the best way.

He makes people happy.

He dances with them.

He jokes with them.

He makes them feel good.

He makesmefeel good.

The song changes, and Rachel yells, “Let’s go girls!”

Emmett pulls me out of the booth, dragging me behind her to the dance floor where everyone is lining up in rows.

Shit. It’s a line dance. The only line dance I know is the electric slide, and this isn’t it.

“Emmett!” I yell over the music, trying to pull away from her. “I don’t know this dance!”

“Come on. Just follow along, and you’ll pick it up quick.”

“No, really. I’m just gonna…”

His big hands grab my hips. His breath floats over my hair when he says, “I’ll teach you.”

I don’t resist. And I don’t tell him no.

Instead, I do the opposite and let him guide me through the dance. I trip over my own feet, I bonk my head with his a couple of times, and I laugh. Just like Rachel’s mom.

Why?

Because that’s what Miles does.

I know he’s not Grant, and I also know I’ve never laughed like this with him. But as soon as the song ends, the insecurity comes flooding back, and I try to make a fast break. Grabbing my hand, Miles has other ideas. Much to his joy and my dismay, the next song is a slow one.

Pulling me into his arms like we’re at a high school dance, we sway back and forth while the other couples on the dance floor two-step around us. We don’t speak and to avoid eye contact I press my forehead against his shoulder.

Internally, I know it looks like I’m caving already, but like Emmett said, I’m not a quitter. I’ve made a decision, and I’m going to stick to it. I won’t cause a scene, though. I’m going to finish this dance, then go home.

When the song ends, I finally brave a look up, and where I thought I would find his usual charming smile I’m met with a face serious as a heart attack.

My stomach starts to feel queasy again.

“Thanks for the dance. I’m gonna head home.”

“You walk?”

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