Bad Romeo Christmas: A Starcrossed Anthology (Starcrossed #4)(64)
After downing our shots, we hiss, and there's a little coughing from Cassie as the alcohol goes down.
"Happy New Year’s Eve, you guys," she manages to say through gasps. "Now, let's party our asses off."
THREE
Super Villains and Drama Queens
It's obvious the person who designed this Superman costume didn't count on a dance off. Raising my arms is a challenge, but if I have to go through a little discomfort to wipe the floor with Ethan, then that's what I'm going to do.
"Give it up, Supes," he says, doing some sort of spinning thing that shouldn't be possible considering how much he's had to drink. "You're going down."
"Ha, don't you mean getting down?" I steal a few moves from John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. The dude beside me in the full white suit tries to copy, but he's a freaking terrible dancer. Also, my prediction about him and Avatar girl was accurate, because there are bright blue marks all over his jacket and what look suspiciously like hand prints on his crotch. There's no way that guy's getting his security deposit back.
Just when I think I'm getting the better of Ethan, Liam shows up.
"Alright, ladies. Stand back and let me show you how it's done."
He goes into some cool hip-hop moves, and of course the bastard is a good dancer.
"Elissa, can you do something about this, please?"
She boogies on the sidelines. "I would, but I'm enjoying the view too much."
Cassie comes to the rescue. She stands in front of Quinn and pretends to send him off. "I'm sorry, sir. This is the Olympic dance off. Amateurs only. You're clearly in another league to these other yahoos."
Ethan and I stop and say, "Hey!" simultaneously.
Cassie shrugs. "Just calling it as I see it, gentlemen."
With a cheeky smile, she dances next to us, before Liam and Elissa join in. We may not be the best dancers in the world, but at least we're enthusiastic.
"Well, well, well, how fun," a condescending voice says behind us. "Superman and his little friends think they're dancing."
We turn to see a group of three guys watching us with supercilious expressions. One of them is dressed as Doctor Evil from Austin Powers, one is The Joker from Suicide Squad, and the one addressing us is wearing a super cool Loki costume that I'd compliment him on if I wasn't trying to stay in character.
"Loki," I say and cross my arms over my chest. "Just keep walking. You don't want to mess with us."
"Don't I?" he says with a sneer. He clicks his fingers, and the Joker goes and whispers something to the DJ. In seconds, the music changes, and the strains of “Uptown Funk" pour from the speakers. "Let's see you fend off these moves, Superman."
The three guys break into a fully choreographed routine, and there's no doubt these boys are trained dancers. They mix hip-hop with contemporary and jazz, and they're so damn good, I can only think of one way to beat them, and it's not pretty.
I turn to the others. "Stand back. I'll handle this."
Elissa grabs my arm. "No, Superman, you can't do this alone! It's suicide."
"I have to, Black Widow. I can at least buy you some time, so you can get to safety - the buffet table, maybe the bar."
"We won't leave you," Liam says, clamping his giant hand on my shoulder so hard, I bite my tongue to stop myself from making owie noises.
"Hawkeye, just go and keep the others safe. They're not even superheroes. Just hipsters with bad hair."
Ethan and Cassie flip me the bird then adjust their wigs.
As I turn to confront our enemies, Elissa takes my arm. "You're not going to do what I think you are, right?"
"Elissa, these *s threw down the gauntlet. I'm just going to pick it up. Prepare to see them cry."
She tightens her hand. "Josh, no. You haven't done Le Dance Bomb since high school. You could die! Or, you know, get seriously out of breath."
"Then prepare to give me mouth to mouth, little lady, because I'm going in."
The super villains watch me warily as I stride over to them.
"Alright, gents," I say, feet wide and hands on hips. "You brought this into my classroom, so now, prepare to be schooled."
I start off slow, a step-touch here, a box-step there. They think they have me pegged and roll their eyes, but I'm just getting started. I move into what I call Disco of Doom: The Bus Stop, The Carwash, and something I made up called The Pogo Dandy. Confusion passes over their faces. They can't believe what they're seeing, and I don't have the heart to tell them they ain't seen nothing yet. Seamlessly, I morph into line dancing, complete with YIPs and YEEEHARs, and it's then I see the fear in their eyes.
That's right, boys. I'm going full dance spectacular, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me.
In quick succession, I hit them with The Nutbush, The Macarena, and a particularly ridiculous move Elissa dubbed Psycho Feta. When the villains get a load of that and start gazing on me in wonder, I know victory is within my grasp. Despite trying not to smile, their mouths curve, but it's not the undeniable victory I'm looking for. I need to break them.
My legs are cramping, and my lungs burn for air, but still I continue. My body is a blur as I give them The Electric Boogaloo, White-Hot Booty, and add some extra flair when I throw my cape over my shoulder so they can behold my twerking. Their smiles widen, but it's not enough. I throw in a demented version of the chicken dance, and one of them snorts but doesn't guffaw.