Page 38 of The Making of Mila and Blake
“C’mon! Like this?” Teddy says as he moonwalks across the kitchen floor toward me. “Or how about this?” He body rolls, pumping out his chest.
“No!” I bury my face in my hands, unable to watch as I smother my laughter. The second-hand embarrassment is too much.
“Or maybe this,” I hear Teddy say, and he reaches for my wrists to pull my hands down. He spins me around in a twirl, circling the kitchen, and then drops to the floor and doesthe goddamn worm.
“No! No! No!” I plead, grabbing his T-shirt and yanking him up to his feet before I actuallydiefrom how bad his dance moves are. “Look, we need music.”
Teddy grins and flicks his hair out of his eyes. I pull out my phone, scroll through my Spotify library, and crank up the volume on Soulja Boy’s “Crank That”.A classic.The beat echoes from my phone on the counter as I clear my throat and shake out my shoulders.
“Two-step it, Teddy,” I order, and I gesture for him to copy my movements as I step from side-to-side. A hip-hop basic. If you can’t two-step, you have no hope. It is literallystepping. Teddy aligns by my side, his eyes on me as his rubber boots squeak against the floor. “Now bust it down!”
And I am in hysterics as I grab the waistband of my shorts, hold one arm in the air, and dip my body in sync with the beat. Teddy clumsily mirrors me, his hand on his belt. Busting it down in Popeye’s kitchen with Teddy the Cowboy on a Monday morning may just be the most bizarre thing I have ever done.
I lose myself in the energy of Soulja Boy’s classic, forgetting to instruct Teddy and instead switching from move to move while he stares at me in fascination and tries to keep up. I bend forward, put my hands on one knee, and booty pop. My hair flicks back and forth as I switch sides, and when I glance up at Teddy, he has given up. Yeah, maybe a bit too feminine.
“What? Can’t pop your hips like that?” I tease, sticking my tongue out as I step in front of him and tauntingly do the Dougie. Hip-hop isn’t the only dance style I work with– hell, I even do classical ballroom– but it’s by far the most fun. There are no rules.
Teddy bites down hard on his lower lip as he watches me dance in front of him, his ocean-blue eyes glistening, and then he steps froward to close the gap between us. He grasps my waist, pushes me back against the counter, and presses his lips to mine.
The shock is so paralyzing, it takes me what feels like forever to process the sensation of Teddy’s kiss. I am frozen, locked in position, until I finally snap back to reality. I press my hands to Teddy’s chest and shove him back, breaking our lips apart.
“Whoa,” I say, my eyes wide and blinking fast. I scramble for my phone behind me, cutting off the music and letting the kitchen fall into a tense silence. “What the hell are you doing?”
Teddy’s brows draw together in confusion. “I was. . . kissing you?”
“Why?”
Now his forehead creases with deep thought and he rubs at the back of his neck. This clearly isn’t the reaction he expected from me. “Weren’t we just having a moment?”
“We were dancing,” I state matter-of-factly, my tone firm with no room for misunderstanding, and gape at him. “Asfriends.”
“But these past couple weeks since we met. . .” Teddy says, lowering his voice in resignation. “I thought. . .”
“You thought what, Teddy?”
He angles his chin to look me straight in the eye and I see the genuine hurt and confusion woven through his features. Taking a step back from me, he admits, “I thought we had something between us.”
“No!” I say, panicked and shaking my head fast. Teddy is gorgeous, of course he is, and he has the most amazing personality, but I don’t like him likethat.Kissing him back at the party, in hindsight, was not a great idea. Have I given him mixed signals? “You’re great, Teddy, you really are, but. . . I’ve realized I still like Blake.”
Teddy face palms himself as he lets out a mortified groan. “Ah, damn. I’m sorry, Mila. I totally misread. . .”
Subconsciously, I skim the tips of my fingers over my lips where Teddy’s kiss lingers. “Friday night. . .” I say, studying him intensely. “That wasn’t just you putting on a show to help me out, was it?”
“No,” Teddy says, scratching his temple. He retreats further away. “But it’s okay, Mila, really. Like I said, I misjudged the situation. We’re cool, right? This won’t make things awkward around here?”
“Only if Savannah doesn’t find out,” I mumble, pushing my hands back through my hair and tilting my head back. Savannah lost her mind when Teddy and I kissedas a joke. She will be destroyed if she finds out he kissed me for real.
Teddy presses his lips together. “Savannah?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I say. “She’s crazy about you.”
“Huh,” he says, and then stares at nothing in particular as though lost in thought, and I wonder how he could possibly be so oblivious to Savannah’s constant blushing whenever he is around her. “That’s sweet, but Savannah. . . She’s like a sister to me, you know?”
My shoulders drop. So, Teddy doesn’t think of Savannah in the same way she thinks of him, and I can’t help but feel the sting of the rejection on her behalf. I grab my mug and gulp the remainder of my coffee, even though it’s cold. I need the caffeine now more than ever. God, what a mess. . .
“You might want to make that clear to her,” I suggest, but the tension around us cracks when Dad saunters into the kitchen.
Teddy and I exchange a panicked look and jolt into action, making ourselves look busy as though we haven’t just kissed. I pull open the silverware drawer and rummage through the knives, and Teddy moves to leave.
