Page 30 of Thirst Trap
“This song is all over the app right now. I’ve read that if you use popular songs, you have the chance to get more video views. And for you my friend, that means more money.”
“You read?”
He ignores my jab. “Focus, Evans. All you need is to dance in your Officer Sexy way for thirty-six seconds. That’s the length of this song. Do whatever you want. Leave the rest to me.”
“Leave the rest to me” are the five worst words Trent could ever say. Usually, that only means trouble, and that’s the last thing I need in my life right now.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” I ask, still a bit hesitant.
“We won’t know until you try. Now let’s do this, Officer Sexy. Show us those moves that have made you famous.”
I take a deep breath and give myself one more internal pep talk.
This is for Mom.
This is innocent entertainment.
Except I kind of feel like a prostitute.
I shake away that last thought as I hear Trent countdown to starting the video.
3…
2…
1…
Here goes nothing.
I hear the first bass drop of the song, and my hips immediately go into action. I don’t know how I’m doing it. The only logical way of explaining it is that I’m letting the music take over my body. It’s something I’ve always been able to do, though I’ve never told anyone that. I guess those dance lessons way back paid off more than I thought.
Before I know it, I feel myself reaching behind my head, pulling my T-shirt off in one swift motion. I toss it to the side before turning my body to jump into a handstand, slowly lowering myself to the floor before sliding to my knees.
Sliding to my knees…
Whitley… the lap dance.
That’s where I’ve heard this song before. At one of the bars in Nashville. Whitley and I were standing at the bar when it came on, and without even knowing it, we started dancing together, our hips finding each other with every beat.
Thoughts of Whitley are now in my mind as I continue moving to the music. I have no idea how long I’ve been going or how much more of the song is left. All I know is that my body has a mind of its own right now. Thoughts of her blond hair are spurring me on, making my hips move up and down in a way I didn’t know they could.
“Done!” Trent yells, breaking me from my trance. “Dude, I’d like to say right now that I’m one-hundred percent straight, but that made me question a few things.”
“Shut up,” I say, standing up and looking around for my discarded shirt. “So what happens now?”
He doesn’t answer for a bit, instead typing something on his phone before he slips it back into this pocket. “Now we wait.”
