Page 40 of The Moon Also Rises
That does it. I may not have his style and I may not have his apparently endless repertoire of dance moves, but I do have good rhythm and I have been called Snake Hips more than once in my life, so I push up to stand. Miraculously, the pain in my feet has disappeared and rather than light-headed, I just feel light. Really light, as I step towards Rami and let him take my hand and pull me into something that looks like a chaotic jive. We dance together for the rest of the song, with him occasionally throwing me into a spin, only for him to then find me again and swing me the other way into a backwards arch of my back over his thigh. At other times we take turns, to pull apart and dance with other people. At one point, Lionel and I are doing a ridiculous version of the Macarena routine while over my shoulder I see Luigi and Rami doingSaturday Night Feverfinger points. A few beats later, Melanie cuts in to grab me and twist me around while I spot Bobby, Marco, Salvatore and Rami have their arms all around each other’s backs doing some kicks not dissimilar to the Greek dancing I learned in Crete. As the song reaches its final stretch, Rami breaks free and rushes up to me.
“P.Y.T!” he shouts at me in time with the song.
“You idiot!” I shout back at him and when his arms come to rest on my hips, I can’t stop myself leaning closer, grabbing his tuxedo lapels and pulling him against me in a big hug as we continue to dance.
“I’m going to kiss you now!” Rami shouts into my ear.
“What?” I pull back, shocked.
“It’s what boyfriends do after one has serenaded the other!” He leans in closer so he doesn’t have to shout so hard. “Is that okay?”
“Yes,” I call back but what I suddenly and urgently mean is ‘please’.
And he does. He grips my cheeks in both his hands, brings my face close to his, and places his lips firmly on mine.
Chapter Twelve
Rami
It’s fake. It’s forced. It’s hard and dry and awkward and closed-lips and so very public. It’s so far from the best kiss of my life. But it’s still a kiss I know I’ll always remember.
And it’s a kiss I’m trying to deepen when I tilt my head to the side and lessen some of the pressure of my lips, seeing, testing if maybe he wants to do the same and open his mouth. I am far too excited when I feel that he does and our mouths lock together, his bottom lip between mine and my top one between his lips, lips that I realise taste like cherries. His stupid lip balm.
The song is seconds away from ending, but I don’t move and I don’t need to. I have already set up another to start immediately. It surprises me when Jake pulls away and apparently has the same thought.
“The music,” he declares, his eyes dazed and his pupils changing shape as they adjust again to the disco lights. When the opening chords and cackling of Michael Jackson’sOff the Wallsound out, I nod. “All set up.”
“What the actual fuck was that?” Jake asks and it’s loud because my hands are still on his face. I should probably move them. But I don’t.
“The dancing? Or the kiss?” I ask, noticing behind us that the crowd have gone back to the centre of the dancefloor, bodies still jumping and moving.
“All of it!” I’m not sure if Jake is trying to sound angry or shocked, but his mouth seems intent on only grinning widely between the heel of my hands.
“Just trying to shut you up,” I say, and reluctantly, I drop my hands but try to cover up my disappointment with a quick wink. “I’d had enough of you moaning all day.”
“Ha!” His hand swipes against the front of my tuxedo. “You just wanted to show off those obscenely good dance moves.”
I swallow roughly. Is that what he actually thinks about me? All I wanted was to make him smile and dance and laugh and maybe forget all his worries for a few—
Another swipe hits my chest. “I’m joking!” Jake declares and my features relax back into a smile.
“It was brilliant,” Jake says but I barely catch it because his voice has lowered, and so have his eyes, staring down at our shoes that are almost toe-to-toe below us, the shiny patent leather of his shoes catching the flaring lights. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Forester,” I say. “And you are free to go now if you want. I promise you no more public displays of affection or dancing or fake kissing. I have a dancefloor to fill and—”
I’m interrupted by Jake again. This time by his body crashing against mine and his arms wrapping around the back of me. It’s a hug. A real hug.
“Thank you,” Jake says again, and I hear him better this time because his mouth is close to my ear. I feel his warm breath on my earlobe and a shiver runs through me. “Nobody has ever done anything that stupid or ridiculous or outrageous for me before, and I know it was all for show, but I loved it. I loved the show.”
I pull out of the hug so I can focus on Jake’s eyes when I say, “You’re welcome.”
“Now, go and make these people dance until they drop.” Jake waves at the crowd behind us.
“I’ll do my best,” I say and I’m suddenly sad Jake won’t be part of it. “And I’ll do my best not to wake you up later.”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere! That performance just gave me my third, or maybe tenth wind. I’m going to get another drink and then I’m coming back to show everyone that I can match you on both dance moves and lip-synching skills.”
My stomach flips with relief or excitement, or just something that I like much more than I probably should.
