Page 30 of Bang Buddies With Benefits
“What she said on that point,” I so helpfully added. Any involvement on my part canceled out my amusement and would mean I was no longer on board.
“Of course,not alone.” One of the aunts whose name evaded me gestured for the microphone, and the DJ rushed to bring it to her, supporting Catalina’s claims about the female members in her family wielding power.
The microphone screeched, and people winced and lifted their shoulders. Then the aunt cleared her throat. “I called in a personal favor, and he wasn’t sure he’d make it in time, but I’m pleased to announce we have a special surprise guest in attendance…” She waved a hand, and the people still lingering on and around the dance floor parted.
A guy with dark, gelled hair and a diamond earring strode forward. His clothes were extraordinarily tight, likely so he could show off how many hours he spent at the gym, and despite not having a sound reason, I immediately disliked him.
“Happy birthday, Mariana!” Again, the feedback had everyone wincing. But there was a lot of adoration aimed at the man who narrowed in on Catalina in a flash.
“Here I thought I could avoid set ups,” Catalina said, not bothering to whisper, “by bringing my boyfriend.”
Her aunt shrugged off the words as if they were nothing more than dust. “It’s not a setup; it’s just one dance. Mariana personally requested you perform it, and I arranged for Rafael to come before Yolanda told me you might have a date to accompany you.”
Catalina stood, her gaze swinging between the aunt with the microphone and Yolanda, and I sat back to watch the fireworks as my sexy lawyer whipped out her courtroom shark persona. “Yolanda’s the one who invited him here in the first place. That was weird enough without this ambush thrown into the mix.”
Ouch.Not sure how her aunts took that, but I sure had to work at not being offended. I thought we’d been having fun. That this was mutually beneficial for all. What? Was I suddenly in the way now?
The unnamed aunt covered the microphone. “You’re being overdramatic. If I were going to play matchmaker, why would I choose a guy you already ruined a relationship with? Although, there are only so many fish in the sea, you know.”
“That’s not the saying,” Catalina shot back, and there was the feisty version I’d expected in the first place. “There are schools and schools of fish, and I’m plenty capable of catching my own, if I decide I even want one.”
Would now be a bad time to wave my hand and announce I was the biggest, baddest, and best fish, and alsoright here beside her.
Yolanda leaned forward, eclipsing her sister and casting Catalina a kind smile as she whispered, “It’s a three-minute routine, for entertainment purposes only. I’m sure your boyfriend will understand that in order to perform a professional dance, you’ll need to pair up with your former partner. Won’t you, Zac?”
Understanding and liking the idea were two very different things. Catalina was her own person, though, so I wouldn’t ever tell her what she could or couldn’t do, actual boyfriend or not. I did, however, check in with her. I raised an eyebrow in her direction, conveying I could play possessive lover and throw a giant mantrum if she needed an out.
Since she didn’t take me up on my offer, I propped the corners of my mouth into an approximation of a smile. “I’ll support whatever Catalina wants to do or not do. But you don’t have to worry about me making a fuss—I don’t get jealous.”
Of all the fibs I’d told since we began this ruse, that one was supposed to be an undeniable truth. But as I watched her walk toward the too-slick Rafael and take his outstretched hand, it hit me—like a sledgehammer to the gut—that my last statement was an outright lie.
* * *
“Back by popular demand, Catalina and Rafael, dancing their version of a Cumbia Sonidera, the same routine that won first place at the California Open!”
The music swelled, the beats growing louder and faster together. And then Catalina’s hips swayed along. Hip-pop, hip-pop, from side to side to side, as if the music had grabbed hold of her body.
From there, the spinning began. Round and round she went, and that dude had his hands all over her. I understood certain moves required she hold on to his hand, but did he really have to swipe his palm across her stomach and back as she twirled?
Beneath the table, my hands formed fists. My knee went to bouncing, the urge to charge up there and cut in nearly overwhelming me.
What would I do? Stand there and drool while she danced circles around me?
At least thenI’d be the one touching her.
If I forced myself to peel away the layers of envy I shouldn’t be experiencing, I could appreciate the skill involved in their performance. How effortless the two of them made the intricate routine look, each perfectly timed move and step, andmy God, Catalina’s hips were sexy.
As much as I longed to wrench the dude’s hands off my woman—er, fake girlfriend—I’d be pissed if he wasn’t there to catch her. If he let go and she spun off the stage and fell and ended up hurt, I’d be tempted to hit him equally as hard.
Basically, the prick couldn’t win when it came to me. More, I didn’t care that the impulse to destroy him was so illogical. That irritated me, too, as I prided myself on being level-headed and remaining composed, regardless of the situation.
Expelling a breath, I attempted to talk myself down. It wasn’t like Catalina was mine—yeah, that didn’t work. The toxic burning in my gut churned and soured.
You don’t want that type of relationship, with all the complications that come along with declarations of belonging to each other.Undisputedly true, yet it didn’t ease my agitation, and that only served to frustrate me more.
The instant the song ended, I shot to my feet. Everyone else did, too, clusters popping up, table by table, their applause ringing through the air. As long as the result wasn’t a repeat performance, I agreed it deserved a standing ovation, so I went ahead and cheered along as I strode toward Catalina.
I didn’t fully know what I was doing, but I was unable to keep myself from rushing toward the dance stage, anyway. She turned at my approach, and I lifted my hands, clapping them higher in the air so she could see. “Bravo. I’m impressed.”
