Part 10 (2/2)

”Whoa. Everybody's staring at us.”

”c.r.a.p.” Heat pours up through my body and out through my face.

”Just keep dancing.”

”No, let's sit down. I'm thirsty.”

”You just drank that whole bottle of sparkly stuff.”

I glance around the room over the top of Scott's soft-blond head. ”They are not staring.” I look down at him. ”You are the only one staring inappropriately.”

”Come closer then so I can't.” He pulls me tight and lays his face on my chest, never missing a beat.

”That was smooth.”

”You can learn a lot watching from the sidelines.”

”So you're comfortable now?”

”c.r.a.p, Beth. Shut up and dance.”

I rest my chin on the top of his head. Shoot, he smells so good. I close my eyes. We fall into the slow, seductive rhythm of the song.

Remember when you first held me ?

And I believed love could be?

Your lips awoke my senses.

You melted my defenses.

I grip Scott's shoulders. It feels so good to touch them. My hands slide back and forth exploring the shape of his deltoids as we sway together. This dress is lower in back, too. He has one hand on my bare skin and the other at my waist.

If you love me, I' ll still be here.

Open your heart without fear.

Come back to me

And I' ll be everything (whoa, whoa-oa, oh).

I'm enjoying this way more than a friend should. I pull him even closer, caress his back, get my hands in his hair and stroke his head-kind of maternal, kind of not.

”That's nice.” His breath tickles my skin.

Another blush. Does he feel the heat? ”Shut up and dance.”

Be my baby, and I' ll be yours.

Don't say maybe, say forever more.

The truth is, babe, you're what I'm made for.

The chorus takes over, winds back, and repeats. Scott and I don't talk much for the rest of the song. We're both way too into the physicality of our bodies brus.h.i.+ng against each other, moving together. Why is he doing this to me? Why am I letting him? The song melts into another song and another, and I melt into Scott.

Then there's a fast one, and we pull apart, kind of wake up. Embarra.s.sed.

He looks up at the clock, almost midnight, and back at me. ”Do you want to leave now?”

I shake my head. ”I want to dance slow some more. I think I'm getting the hang of it.”

He smiles and takes my hand. ”Sure.”

All this touching tonight. It's making it harder and harder for me to remember he's just my friend.

We wander back to the table with our stuff. He lets my hand go and pulls out my chair. I sit down.

”I'll go get us some punch. Now you can be thirsty.”

”Make sure it's safe.” I do not need spiked punch. I'm high enough already.

”Okay.”

He disappears. I fiddle with my purse. My lips are way dry. I fish out my Watermelon Ice and smear some on.

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