How to Fail at Flirting(18)

“You’re a bad liar,” I returned over the music, taking a successful step forward but then second-guessing myself on the next beat and stepping on Jake’s foot. It’s literally counting to three and knowing left from right.

“Here,” Jake said, pulling me flush against him, our thighs touching, chests against each other. Sandalwood and soap filled my nostrils, and my frustration about dancing ebbed into more memories from the night before. “I’ll push my leg against yours, and we’ll step together, okay?” He nudged my left leg with his right on the beat, and our hips twisted in unison, then back, and I followed his movements, relishing the roll of his body against mine as we moved with the music. The crowd fell away. There was only the beat and him. I stopped worrying about the steps and followed his lead. A minute passed, the music swirling around us, our bodies still flush.

“Don’t overthink it.” Jake spoke near my ear, his hot breath stroking my skin, and I stifled a sigh, a tingle zipping through me. “Trust me, okay?”

He has no idea what he’s asking. I’d never been a good dancer, but I had been an eager dancer for most of my life. Not knowing the steps and being hopelessly without rhythm had never stopped me from getting on the dance floor until Davis told me I was embarrassing him. By the time he stopped telling me and started showing his disappointment or anger, I’d long since stopped dancing.

“One, two, three,” the man onstage counted, and he and his partner demonstrated some kind of complicated spin as we rocked back and forth. He said something about the left foot—or was it the right? Crap, I’d missed a few key details. I was comfortable with the step we’d been doing—that was my dancing sweet spot, and I worried if I broke the rhythm it would never come back.

“Five, six, seven.” The instructor counted the beats from the stage. Did he say step forward on four or five?

Jake squeezed my hand and raised his arm with a reassuring grin, nudging me to spin. The slick soles of my sandals helped my movement, and I twirled, clutching his hand, the breeze and motion catching the light fabric of my top. I spun once, then twice, the crowd and the lights from the stage a blur. I wasn’t graceful, and the spin stopped when I tripped into Jake, steadying myself against him.

I laughed into his chest. “I told you I was no good.”

“I’m having fun.” He guided me back to the beat, and we moved together. “Plus, it gives me an excuse to touch you.”

I glanced up to meet his eyes. “Were you looking for one?”

His hips rolled with mine, and a heavy breath escaped my lips as he cupped the back of my neck. “Hoping for one.” The pressure and rhythm of our bodies in the middle of this crowd, the music blasting all around us—it was too much. We’d been laughing and teasing, but that all seemed to fade into the heat of the moment as our steps slowed. His gaze was intent on mine like he was seeing something rare and cataloging it in every detail.

No one has ever looked at me like this.

He lowered his chin, and I closed my eyes in anticipation of his soft but unyielding kisses. I opened my eyes suddenly when the music changed and the surrounding crowd surged at the popular tune, jostling us. New people moved closer to the stage, and the already crowded dance floor was instantly packed. I glanced left and right, panicked at the sudden influx.

Jake must have read my expression, because he took my hand. “C’mon. I’ve got an idea. You’ll like this better.”





Eight





Jake squeezed my hand, casting his gaze toward the massive gears of the Ferris wheel as we jostled forward and began our ascent into the sky.

“You okay?” I asked.

He looked a little pale, his body rigid. “I must really like you. I can’t believe I suggested riding this thing.”

As we rotated higher into the night, I touched the plexiglass surrounding us and then looked back to Jake. It was late, and we’d managed to snag a car all to ourselves. I’d told him we didn’t have to ride it, even though I’d admitted to loving Ferris wheels earlier in the evening. He’d insisted, and we, once again, found ourselves suspended in the air.

“Tell me more things about you. It distracts me.”

“Um . . . let’s see. My favorite food isn’t ice cream. I told a little white lie last night.” Well, I told more than one, but let’s keep this light.

“What is it?”

“It’s cake, but that sounds so gluttonous.”

“Maybe if your favorite food is an entire sheet cake,” he joked. “What else?”

“I kissed my best friend’s husband back in college, before they were together.”

“Awkward?”

“You’d think, but no. They are, like, the perfect couple and we joke about it now. I’m not sure what else to tell you. I don’t have that many interesting things to share. What about you? What Jake trivia should I know?”

“People seem to think it’s strange that I’ve never seen Star Wars.”

“How is that even possible?”

“You look shocked—do you like the movie?”

“Movies—there are many, but yes, the original trilogy is at the top of my best-films-of-all-time list.” I elbowed him playfully in the side. “I’m not sure we can still hang out . . . This is a big revelation.”