Page 1 of Coupled (Alphas Forever 3)

Samantha

At first, I think my sister is joking when she tells me that she wants to do a choreographed dance at her wedding. But then she starts talking about some choreographer she met with the other day, and how excited she is to work with her, and I realize, oh god, she’s actually serious.

“Are you sure you want to add another thing to your to do list?” I ask, pacing around my apartment as I press my cellphone to my ear. “You’ve already got so much on your plate with this wedding.”

“No, no, this will be fun,” Cara says. “I think it will actually helpwith the stress.”

She seems totally oblivious to the fact that having to perform a dance at her wedding will stress me out. I know, I know. It’s my sister’s wedding. It’s not about me. As maid of honor, I’m the one who’s supposed to be super supportive about stuff like this. And I have been super supportive, and super excited, up until this point. But dancing? Ugh. When we were little, our mom enrolled us in ballet, and I once screwed up so badly during one of our recitals that I ran off the stage in tears.

“But what if some people in the wedding party don’t want to do a dance?” I say.

“Oh, it will be fine. We won’t do anything super complicated,” says Cara. “Don’t worry, the guys won’t have to lift up the girls or anything like that.”

“Right,” I say, swallowing nervously.

I can tell that there’s no talking her out of it.

After our conversation, Cara sends me video after video of choreographed dances from other people’s weddings. I reply to each of her texts, but deep down, I wish she would stop. I’m really dreading having to do something like this. And the idea that someone at Cara’s wedding might record it and upload it online for the whole world to see…the very thought of that makes me feel queasy.

I secretly hope that she’ll change her mind. But of course that doesn’t happen. The next day, Cara sends out an email to everyone in the wedding party—there’s five bridesmaids and five groomsmen in all—explaining her idea.

The choreographer said we should be able to get it down in just a couple sessions, as long as everyone is focused, Cara’s email reads. Would the next two Saturday mornings work for everyone? Please let me know ASAP!

I reply to the email and tell Cara that those Saturday mornings are fine with me. I don’t even have to check my calendar first. I’m basically a homebody with no social life.

Cara writes back almost immediately: Yay! This is going to be fun. Thanks for being a good sport about it. BTW, I think you’re going to like your dance partner ;)

I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I’m going to be dancing with some stranger. If the best man is anything like Cara’s fiancé, John, then he’s probably a decent guy, but still, there’s no way it isn’t going to be awkward, dancing with some dude that I don’t know.

I sigh and try to shrug it off. It’s just one dance, I remind myself.

How much can really go wrong with once dance?

* * *

Our first Saturdaypractice arrives soon enough. I show up to the dance studio wearing my yoga clothes, because I don’t know what else to wear. When I walk into the studio, I see that I’m the last one to arrive. The rest of the wedding party is here already, talking and laughing—they all know each other. They’re all part of Cara and John’s social circle. I’m the odd one out, the little sister of the bride.

When Cara sees me, she breaks from the group and comes over and gives me a hug.

“You’re finally here,” she says. “Everyone, this is my sister, Samantha.”

The group stops talking and they all turn to look at me and smile and say hello. I can feel my face go hot from the sudden attention.

“Hi,” I say.

“And this,” says Cara, motioning with her arm, “is Ethan. The best man.”

On cue, one of the men steps away from the group and comes over to us. I blink at him, temporarily paralyzed at the sight of him. Holy shit, the best man is hot. Is this some kind of joke? He’s so handsome, so muscular. He has these unbelievably sexy, intense eyes. When he smiles, I feel myself melt a little.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is sexy and deep. Heholds out a hand. “How’s it going?”

I break out of my paralysis and extend my hand to shake his. Desire jolts through me as our skin comes in contact.

“I’m…good,” I manage to squeak out.

“Ready to get your groove on?” Ethan asks, grinning.

With you I am, I think. My cheeks go hot. “Um, sure,” I say, sounding like an idiot.

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