Page 80 of Call the Shots
“I can help with the keying.”
“We’re going to dance and eat pancakes with Montoya. That’s what I’m thinking about.”
“I want to help?—”
“He’s your stepbrother, I don’twantto involve you.”
“Iwantto be involved,” I insisted.
June gave me a long look, finishing her drink. “Take your grumpy facade down for a night. It’s your teammate’s birthday. Forget about the coach we have to get rid of, forget about the team’s problems, forget about your stepbrother. Dance your little heart out, Bear.”
I shuffled to the wall. “I’m not dancing.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t dance.” I admitted before I could stop myself. Shit. I was way too drunk.
“Who cares?” She tipped her chin to Montoya, jumping up and down with sorority girls. “If Montoya can dothat,you can dance.”
“It’s bad, June.”
“How bad?”
“They’d kick me out.”
June burst into drunk laughter and it was better than any song the party played. She hummed, contemplating something before she twirled two fingers in the air. “Show me how bad it is.”
I was just drunk enough to show her. If I was sober, I would’ve never done that, but I liked her laugh.
It was very pretty. Like June.
“Wow, your dancing is bad,” she giggled. “I know what you’re doing wrong. You’re dancing to the words, you need to dance to the tempo.”
“Tempo?”
June hesitated before tugging my bed sheet towards her. Goosebumps prickled my skin.
She bit her lip. “The size difference makes this a little…”
“No, it doesn’t.” I pulled her closer.
Careful, Bear. She has a boyfriend.
The neon stars flashing across the dance floor lit up her face and her eyes settled on mine. They were usually such a startling green but now, they sparkled purple and pink with the lights. I dipped even closer to study the colors.
“Tempo is the underlying rhythm,” she whispered. “You find that, that’s what you dance to. Like this.”
My heart pounded in my throat while June swayed. It was hard to remember I had to copy the movements, I just wanted to focus on her, but I moved with her, watching us together.
She nodded. “That’s better.”
Her dress was so soft, it was like catnip to drunk me.
Careful, Bear.
This wasn’t bad. It wasn’t. We were dancing. That’s it.
“You were right. I was wrong.” I ran my thumb over her hips, trying to memorize them. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say.”
