Page 152 of The Vacation Mix-Up
Riles’s mouth forms an O, as if she’s offended, and she probably should be. I did just call her out on her lack of rhythm and then admit I lured her here so that I don’t look as bad.
Waiting for her to punch me or storm off, she instead palms her face and peeks through her spread fingers. “Did I really dance that night?”
“You did.”
“To what?”
I smirk. “Beyoncé. Then again, I’m not sure what you did could be classed as dancing.”
“Oh God!” she groans. “Was it ‘Single Ladies’?”
“It was.”
“Pleeease don’t let me drink that much again.”
I pull her back into my arms. “You’re allowed to let go every once in a while and dance like a freak.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Holding up my hand, I twist it from side to side, impersonating Beyoncé’s dance move.
She slaps my shoulder.
“Ease up, Riles. You were… adorable. And you enjoyed yourself. That’s all that matters.”
“Sounds like I did more than enjoy myself.”
I nod. “You could say that.”
She scrunches her face and fiddles with the button of my shirt, avoiding eye contact. “I’m so sorry about the puke.”
“Don’t be. Most of it landed in the toilet bowl.”
“Most of it?”
I wince.
“Oh, my God!”
Chuckling, I tip her chin up and press my lips to hers, the earth once again tilting.
“Top of the morning to you, cruiselings!” Paul announces, his overenthusiastic squawk breaking us apart.
Skipping and hopping into the atrium, his suit greener than freshly mowed grass, a four-leaf clover pinned to his chest, he stops and throws his arms into the air. “Who’s ready to get their Michael Flatley on?”
I snicker at the hippity-hoppity frog man. “Who’s Michael Flatley?”
“You’ve never heard of him?” she gasps.
“No. Should I?”
Riles snaps her head to me. “Lord of the Dance?”
“I knowLord of the Rings.” I shrug.
She crosses her arms over her chest and pinches her chin. “You really have no idea what you signed up for, do you?”
“I told you—I was coerced. And Mom insisted I do at least one dance lesson while onboard. It was her only request, and trust me,” I say, a subtle growl exiting my throat, “she’ll ask me to demonstrate when I get home.”
