I chuckle before taking a slug of my wine. “Awkward was never cool. Only uncool people believe that.”
Once again, we fall into that easiness. No expectations. No games. Just real, genuine companionship. I laugh at her corny jokes. She shakes her head at mine. Whenever I look at her, she smiles. And in turn, I smile too.
How could I have ever thought that there was room for more?
“So anyway. For real this time, I need help.”
“With what?” I down the last of my wine and go to top off both our glasses.
“I have a confession to make: I’m a horrible dancer. I know what you’re thinking—how can someone so gracefuland elegantbe a bad dancer? But it’s true. Sad, but true. And ever since Candi and Jewel came, I’ve been really self-conscious. So I was wondering if you would help me, ol’ buddy ol’ pal.”
“Help you?”
She twirls a crimson curl around her finger. “Teach me to dance?”
I set my glass down on the nearest flat surface and throw my hands up so there’s no misinterpreting my answer. “No!”
“Aw, come on! You said you were always here for whatever we need. And I need to learn how to drop it like it’s hot. To shake what my mama gave me. To work my groove thang.” Ally sets down her glass to clutch her hands together in front of her chest. Then she walks towards me with an impish grin. “Please, oh please, Justice Drake. Teach me how to Dougie?”
I can’t even pretend to be put out by her. She’s just too damn adorable, looking up at me, those eyes shining with innocent mischief. I smile and shake my head, knowing that I don’t stand a chance against her ridiculous super power.
“Fine,” I exhale, rolling my eyes.
“Fine?” Those animated eyes dance with delight.
“Fine. I’ll help you.”
She makes that dying pig-cat crossbreed sound and jumps up and down. Then she’s grasping my shoulders. And it happens. Her lips are touching me—kissing me. It’s half a millisecond and she turns away just as swiftly, as if she doesn’t even register what she’s done to me. To her, it’s just an innocent peck on the cheek. To me, it’s enough to make my dick try to manually unzip my slacks, in hopes that it’ll get a kiss too.
Ally makes her way to the Bose sound system situated on my entertainment stand and hooks up a little pink iPod she’s retrieved from the pocket of her cardigan. “I have to be honest with you—I have no rhythm and have been blessed with the cruel gift of two left feet. So be gentle with me.”
I raise a brow at her choice of words, but she’s too busy scrolling through her playlist to notice. “How do you even know I can dance?”
She gives me the side eye momentarily before turning a knob to adjust the volume. “I saw you with those strippers. I’m sure you know exactly what kind of dancing guys like.”
Booming bass lines puncture the room, coupled by digitized drumbeats. It initially startles the shit out of me, before I’m nearly in stitches at her ironic song choice. Ally whips off her cardigan and swings it around over her head, laughing hysterically.
“Come on, Magic Mike! Show me how to ride that pony!”
And she’s right—the girl cannot dance. Not to save her life.
She breaks into some remixed version of the funky chicken on crack before trying to twerk. And while that dance should not be performed by anyone – man, woman, or child—Ally most definitely should never, ever try it. At first I think she’s got butt cramps. Or her ass fell asleep and she’s trying to wake it up. I can’t even begin to ask, too overcome with hilarity to form coherent words. Shit, even I’msnorting a little.
“Oh…God, stop! Stop! You’re…killing…me!”
“What?” she asks innocently, still bent over and convulsing. She furrows her brow in concentration. “Am I doing it? Is it moving? I’ve been practicing for weeks!”
“Ally! Stop! You’ll hurt yourself!” I bend over to place my hands on my knees, struggling to catch my breath. I look back up to see her clapping her hands, trying to get her ass to shake in time with each clap. I die laughing again, and tears roll down my face.
“Whatever. I got this. I got this shit. Miley ain’t got nothin’ on me!”
I’m cackling so hard that I’m coughing, nearly brought to my knees with exhaustion. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna choke! You’re killing me with your horrible dance moves!”
Finally she straightens up and places a tiny fist on her hip. “Well, what am I doing wrong? How am I supposed to learn if you just keep laughing at me?” She’s trying to give me the stern, serious face, but I see a smile at the corners of her mouth, clawing its way free. When she can’t fight it any longer, she howls with laughter right along with me, until we’re both on the floor, clutching our stomachs.
“I told you I couldn’t dance!” she says, jabbing my arm with her finger. We’ve spent the better part of ten minutes just catching our breath. Whenever I thought I was over it, I’d get a flashback of her bent over, her narrow hips willing her ass cheeks to move, with that look of sheer determination on her face. Luckily, the song has long ended and changed to something less unfortunate, or I probably would’ve hacked up my spleen.
“Holy shit, Ally. You can’t. You really can’t.”
She rolls over on her side and looks at me, a few tears of laughter still in her eyes. “So do you think…do you think that’s why Evan does what he does? I mean, if I suck at shaking my ass, I probably can’t do…other stuff, right?”
I turn to face her, an odd feeling replacing the hilarity I felt just seconds before. It’s something like sadness and sympathy and anger all rolled into one, and compressed into the hollow of my chest. It’s too intense to feel, too complex to describe. But I feel it. I feel it for Ally.
“Come on,” I say climbing to my feet. I stretch out a hand to help her up. “I’d never be able to forgive myself if I let you believe that was anything remotely close to dancing.”
Ally lets me pull her up, smoothing her dress over her hips. “Well, then. What would you call it?”
I tap the freckled bridge of her nose. “Seizing.”
“SO LIKE THIS?”
“Yeah, just like that. Dip your hips a little more.”
“Like that?”
“Yeah. Good. Now grind your ass on me.”
I know what you’re thinking.
I’m obviously asking for it. I’ve got to be some masochist that gets off on giving myself blue balls. But hear me out.
Ally needed help, and after seeing her so vulnerable and exposed, grasping onto any hope that she could redirect Evan’s attention, I had to give it my best shot.
Plus, I just really wanted to feel her brushing her ass against me while my hands grip her hips. Eh, I’m only a man. Sue me.
“I feel stupid,” she says with a huff. I feel her trying to slip away, but I hold her tighter, cursing the thin layer of soft cotton that keeps my fingers from touching her skin. I don’t even care if she feels my erection pressing against her ass. On some level, I want her to feel it. Maybe she’ll get just an inkling of what she does to me.
“You don’t look stupid though. You should see yourself.”
“Really?”
Hit with a sudden stroke of genius, I spin her around to face me. “Really. Let me show you.”
I lead Ally to my bedroom just as the song chances into something slow and sultry, yet equally provocative. The room is dim, with only the light from the hall filtering in to light our path. I switch on a bedside lamp, illuminating the space just enough for her to see what I see.
“Stand here,” I command gently, positioning her in front of the floor length, gold-framed mirror stationed beside my closet.
“You’re kidding, right? You want me to dance in front of this mirror?”