Dance with Me, page 16
We dig in.
“Do you cook?” she asks me as we eat the most amazing, buttery salmon I’ve ever had in my life.
“I can. I mean, not like this.” I point my fork at my plate. “But I won’t ever starve.”
“And your grandma?”
“She’s an amazing cook, but I think since my grandpa passed away, she’s lost a bit of passion for it. He was always the best person to cook for.” I laugh as I recall his big eyes and overdone expressions. “Everything anybody made for him was the absolute best. I remember, I made cookies once when I was a kid. And we figured out later that I’d added salt instead of sugar.”
“Oh no,” Marisa says with a laugh.
“Yeah. Horrific cookies. Absolutely awful. But you should’ve seen my grandpa eat not one, but two of them, like I was Betty Crocker herself and they were the best cookies he’d ever had in his life. It’s one of my happiest memories of him.”
“That’s really sweet.”
“What about you? Is Ms. Tina’s mom your grandma?”
Marisa shakes her head. “No, she’s my aunt by marriage. All four of my grandparents are still around and live within about fifteen minutes of here.”
“That’s awesome. My grandma Templeton is my dad’s mom, and she’s the only grandparent I have left, believe it or not.”
“Really? You’re only—what?—thirty?”
“Bless you,” I say and hold up my glass in salute. “Thirty-four. And you?”
“Thirty-six.”
“Interesting.”
And here, our eye contact holds for a beat or two longer than it would if we were just friends. And I admit to flashing back to her tongue in my mouth the night before and wonder if my face is turning as red as I feel like it might be.
“You’re blushing,” she whispers, answering my own unspoken question.
“Yeah, I was afraid of that.”
“Don’t be. It’s really cute.”
We get back to our plates for a moment or two, letting those last couple lines hang in the air like vapor. Sexy vapor. Erotic vapor.
“Aunt Mar?” Jaden calls from the living room.
Marisa gives me a half grin, half grimace. “Yeah, honey?”
“Can I have more nuggs?”
I mouth nuggs? Because how cute is that?
“You sure can. Bring your plate into the kitchen.” She turns to me. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“No, ma’am,” I say, vaguely wondering when I became a polite girl from the South. I continue to eat as I listen absently to the two of them in the kitchen, talking quietly, and it’s all so wonderfully domestic that it almost brings tears to my eyes.
I swallow that down and top off our glasses and wait for Marisa to return.
* * *
I don’t expect to stay overnight at Marisa’s, given that Jaden is there, so it’s no big deal when we say our good nights. But I also don’t expect her to kiss my face off on her front porch. Because holy crap, that’s exactly what she does. She walks me to the door and hands me my purse, which I haul up over my shoulder, and a foil-wrapped package of leftovers. I turn to thank her for dinner, and the next thing I know, my face is in her hands and her mouth is on mine and my legs are turning to jelly because oh my God, the woman can kiss.
I’m surprised I’m able to actually walk to my car, given the unreliability of my own balance after that, and I can feel Marisa’s eyes on me, which doesn’t help me concentrate. I drop into the driver’s seat with relief and blow out a huge breath. This woman is going to be the death of me. I just know it.
Marisa waves as I back out of her driveway, then goes inside, and I head home. My knees are still weak, and my lips are still buzzing, and my underwear is uncomfortably damp, and the smile on my face is so wide, I can actually feel it. I’m actually aware of the fact that I am alone in my car, smiling like some kind of weirdo.
It’s awesome.
Grandma’s not home yet when I arrive, so I make myself comfortable on the couch and channel surf. Salt curls up in the crook of my knees and starts purring so loudly, I can feel it vibrating through my legs. Pepper sits on the floor near the end of the couch where my head is and stares at me. For a long time. I try not to make eye contact, but it’s hard, and when I do look at her, I swear to God, it’s like there’s a little human in there. It’s freaky. I reach out to pet her, and she takes a swipe at me.
“Why are you such a bitch?” I ask her, not for the first time. “What do you have to be bitchy about?” She blinks at me once, then slowly turns and walks away just as my phone pings from its spot on the coffee table. My excitement at the possibility of it being Marisa sends a wave of arousal through me, flashes me back to being kissed senseless on her front porch not long ago.
What are you doing with your Sunday evening? Hanging with Grandma?
Not Marisa. Pen. And for the first time, I start wondering if she’s spying on me. Which I guess makes me feel less pathetic than being totally predictable. That being said, there’s also an element of annoyance. Of irritation. And before I realize what I’m doing, I type back to her.
What do you want? Why do you keep texting me?
My first thought after clicking Send is Adley’s gonna kill me. So is Bash. And Demi. I’m dead three times. And probably Grandma. Four. Murdered four times.
Pen, of course, has just gotten exactly what she wanted, which I realize about a second and a half too late, and she wastes no time texting again. Just thinking about you. Is that so wrong?
“Oh my God,” I whisper to the empty living room. “Seriously?” And then I’m torn. Torn between ripping her to fucking shreds—via text, of course—and ignoring her completely. I doubt your fiancée would appreciate that. I send it and then groan loudly because I clearly don’t know what I’m doing. I should block her again.
Her response comes back quickly.
Probably not… As if the three dots aren’t enough, she adds a laughing emoji and an emoji with a finger to its lips. So, basically, keep my secret is what she’s saying.
“Jesus Christ, Penelope.” Okay, enough. I silence the phone, put it facedown on the coffee table, and turn the volume up on the TV. Pen is getting no more of me tonight.
I’m annoyed with myself, but at the same time, not surprised. What I don’t do is text Adley. Or Bash. Or Demi. Because I know exactly what each of them would say. They’d scold me, first of all. Bash would be gentle—Adley and Demi, not so much. They’d tell me how I have to be firmer, that Pen is no good and probably just wants something from me, and they’re likely not wrong. But I don’t think they understand the pull to my heart. I loved her once. With everything I had. I really thought we’d be together forever, that she was my person. And I’m still angry and hurt over the breakup, and I know we’ll never get back together—I know that. But there’s still a part of my heart that doesn’t want her to hurt. That wants to be there if she needs a friend. That hasn’t quite let go all the way.
Stupid. Yes. Whatever. I know it.
How I manage to fall asleep with the TV so loud, I have no idea, but I hear Grandma come in, and when I turn my phone over to see what time it is, over an hour has passed. I have three missed texts from Pen.
And two from Marisa.
I turn down the TV just as Grandma rounds the doorway. “How was book club?” I ask her.
She rolls her eyes. “I think two of us actually read it.”
“Well, you guys are much better at drinking wine than reading books.” I push myself up to sitting.
“True. You fall asleep?”
I nod and yawn like I’m proving the point.
“And how was dinner?”
“It was great.” I don’t go into detail with Grandma right then because I’m just not ready to. It’s not her. It’s anybody. I’d like to just sit with it for a while. Sit with my memories of the evening, of teasing Jaden, of how Marisa looked across the table, of how absolutely, one hundred percent comfortable it all felt. I don’t know what to do with it yet, and I decide just to keep it for myself, at least for a little while longer.
Grandma gives one nod. “Well, I’m heading up.”
“Right behind you,” I say and follow her to the stairs. Once in my room, I take a look at my missed texts. Not the ones from Pen. Those can wait. The ones from Marisa.
Had a great time with you tonight. Hope you did, too. Let’s do it again. Soon?
The question mark after soon kicks my heart into overdrive. She wants to see me again. Soon.
Her second text came about forty minutes after the first. Did you go to bed already? Sorry I missed you. Then a sad emoji. Sleep well. Dream about us. That’s followed by an emoji blowing a kiss.
And then I’m so annoyed that Pen made me miss these wonderful sweet texts. I growl low in my throat, which makes Salt lift his head and look at me with concern. I type, Sorry! Fell asleep in front of the TV. Not a lie. Not a lie at all. Tonight was awesome. And yes, let’s do it again soon. Sweet dreams. And, not to be outdone, I add three emoji blowing kisses.
I plug my phone into the charger and set it on the nightstand while I do all my nightly stuff—take off my makeup, brush my teeth, lotion up. By the time I get back to my bed, it’s nearing midnight, and no return text from Marisa tells me she’s probably asleep. Even though it’s summer, she’s got Jaden all day tomorrow. Me? It’s my day off.
I slide under the covers. Normally, I’d turn my own TV on very low, turn on some mindless reruns like The Big Bang Theory or Modern Family. Since I’ve been alone—meaning not with Pen—I’ve had trouble falling asleep, and the TV helps. Maybe it’s the sound, other people talking so I don’t feel quite so solitary. But it helps. I drift here and there and remember seeing the clock at 2:21 before finally falling all the way to sleep.
My dreams are filled with salsa music and beanbag chairs and an old yellow VW Bug that I’m driving with Marisa in the seat next to me, her hair blowing sexily in the wind.
Chapter Fourteen
Two things surprise me at the next dance class, which is our eighth.
First, Ms. Tina is back. The wave of disappointment that flows through me is almost disturbing in its intensity. I don’t want to dance with Ms. Tina, no offense. I want to dance with Marisa. I haven’t seen her since dinner Sunday night. We texted a bit, but she had a crazy day with Jaden, getting him signed up for summer activities, buying him some new clothes because he is apparently “growing like a weed,” she said. I spent my day off chilling, trying to read a new novel I’ve had for weeks now, and attempting not to spend the entire afternoon fantasizing about Marisa and what she might look like naked. I was really looking forward to tonight, and I get here, and Ms. Tina smiles at me.
Damn.
I drop my crap at the edge of the room like always as Ms. Tina chats away with Davis and Linda about how well Davis’s knee has been holding up, as the rest of the class trickles in. I’m looking down at my phone, making sure it’s on silent, when that voice tickles the back of my neck.
“God, you smell good.”
And you know what’s weird? My entire body reacts to her voice. My entire body. I get this, like, full-body shiver that flows through me like a wave. Every nerve is at attention. My legs are instantly weak, jellylike. The butterflies in my stomach are suddenly awake and zipping around like crazy, bouncing off my ribs. My mouth has gone dry.
“How do you do that?” I whisper to her as I turn and meet her dark eyes.
“Do what?” I can tell by the look on her face—she knows exactly what what is, but I answer anyway.
“Make every nerve in my body sit up and take notice.”
“Is that what happens?” Her eyebrows rise in what looks like honest surprise, and I kind of like that.
I nod. “Every time.”
“Huh.” It’s all she says, but she’s smiling like a weirdo, so I know it made her happy.
“Um, what are you doing here?” I ask as the rest of the class mills about, waiting for Ms. Tina to get things started.
Marisa blinks at me. “I’m your partner. Duh.”
And before I can respond, Ms. Tina starts talking about tonight’s class, so I stand there and it’s my turn to smile like a weirdo. Marisa came to class specifically to dance with me. Yeah. Kinda giddy, not gonna lie.
Class number eight will go down in history as something incredibly memorable. I can tell even after ten or fifteen minutes in. Dancing with Marisa when she’s not teaching the class is…it’s different. And dancing with her after we’ve made out a few times? Yeah. It’s more sensual. Way more sensual. She is completely focused on me. Her hands are warm and sure where they touch my body. Her eye contact is steady, sometimes intense. And being so close to her like this? With our bodies touching so often? God. I don’t even have words. It’s almost erotic. I’m painfully aware of the other members of the class, and I have to consciously not swoon as Marisa leads me around the floor, and I follow her obediently. We move beautifully together, and I’d say that even if I didn’t have a huge thing for her. We really dance well together. We’re almost fluid, and it’s so perfect and natural that I don’t notice right away that the rest of the class has stopped to watch. I keep my eyes on Marisa’s, and it’s kind of incredible how easy it is to be led by her. I know instinctively where she wants me to step and which way. I’m not even sure how she’s doing it, but I can feel it. That’s the crazy part. I can feel her direction. Which, I suppose, is how dancing works, but it’s incredibly sexy, something I didn’t count on when I signed on for this with Bash what seems like ages ago.
When the music ends, we get an enthusiastic round of applause from the others in the class, and I can feel my cheeks heat up.
“That was amazing,” Katrina says, and Pete, her partner, nods his agreement. “You guys move together like you’ve been dance partners for years.”
A little buzz goes through the rest of the class as Ms. Tina smiles and says, “Don’t they? That’s why they’re going to represent our studio in the local competition in September.” She waves her arm at us with a flourish, like she’s introducing us. Which she kind of is, I guess. My face gets hotter as the applause kicks back up. I glance at Marisa and she’s smiling, a little flushed, and just fucking gorgeous.
I can’t believe I get to dance with this woman.
A few minutes later, as the other students begin filtering out, Marisa turns to me.
“Do you have some time right now, or do you have to get home?”
What do I have to get home to? My grandmother and a couple cats? I don’t say it out loud, but I think it. I shake my head. “No, I have time.”
“I thought we could talk a bit about our dance for the competition, since Aunt Tina’s here. She has ideas.”
“Oh, okay. Sure. Let’s do it.” I was kind of hoping that she wanted to do something, just us, but this is good, too. More time with Marisa, even if Ms. Tina is around, is never a bad thing, as far as I’m concerned.
For the next hour, Ms. Tina does more talking and explaining than Marisa and I do dancing, and I suppose that was to be expected. She plays us the music, an upbeat Latin song that sounds vaguely familiar to me. The pace slows to an almost ballad and then picks back up again. It’s a shortened version, and Ms. Tina informs me that it’s two and a half minutes long. That’s our dance time. That’s everybody’s dance time.
“It seems short now,” she tells us, “but trust me. When you’re out there dancing in front of people, it’ll feel like an hour.”
In front of people.
Oh my God, I haven’t even thought of that aspect of a competition. Wow. I glance at Marisa, who bursts out laughing.
“Forgot about that part, did you?” she asks.
“Little bit,” I reply with a shake of my head.
She squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” Her hand stays there for a beat, and I notice that Ms. Tina notices. I’m not sure how to feel about that.
We set up time for the following week when Ms. Tina will start us on the actual moves, and for whatever reason, now I’m nervous. We pack up our stuff and walk out together while Ms. Tina hangs back to finish some paperwork, she tells us.
“You got a little deer-in-headlights back there,” Marisa says, amusement in her voice. “You okay?”
I laugh quietly. “Yeah, just…I don’t think I thought the whole thing through before I agreed.”
Her face falls. “Do you want to back out? You can. There’s plenty of time.”
“No,” I say, probably too loudly, and grasp her upper arm. “No, not at all. I just need to readjust my expectations. No, I’m good. I’m in. I’m all in.” I realize the double entendre there and look away from her quickly.
“It’ll be fun,” she says, but her voice has gone soft. “I promise.” Our gazes hold for a few seconds before she says, “I have to go get Jaden from my mother’s.”
I nod. “Okay. Can we…?” The words catch in my throat, but Marisa smiles.
“Get together soon? Definitely.” And then she leans forward and bends slightly until her lips meet mine. We’re the only ones in the parking lot, and it’s dusk and it all feels so clandestine and exciting, and it takes everything I have not to reach up for her neck and pull her in tighter…and then I do just that. And she lets me, a soft whimper escaping her mouth. It’s a sound that does things to me. Sexy things. My heart rate picks up speed. A surge of wet hits my underwear. Everything below my waist tightens deliciously.
Marisa pulls back enough to make eye contact, and she tips her head the smallest bit as if scolding me just a touch. “You’re bad,” she whispers, then runs her fingertips over my swollen lips. “I have to go.”
“I know,” I say. She looks apologetic, so I add, “I get it. I do. As long as I can see you again. Soon.”
