Page 51 of Heartsmashed
Nowthatwas a sight I hadn’t seen since we were kids, when they’d pull out their old CDs and we’d dance around the house with them.
I mimicked their moves, muscle memory kicking in, and Beckett joined me, his hips swaying in a way I tried not to notice too hard. We bounced from one dance to the next, pulling out our glow sticks to join in with the rest of the crowd. Soon, though, we were both sweaty messes, and that was when he decided to unzip his jacket and tie it around his waist.
Which left him in a fitted tank top that molded to his body and showed off his incredibly sculpted arms.
Oh, good God.I was gonna drool in the middle of all these people, wasn’t I?
At least with the music playing and Beckett matching my energy, I could play off that I was watching him.
Watching, ogling, drooling—same thing.
He stayed right there with me, laughing and not holding back, and it was such a new thing for me that it had my mind drifting back to Peter momentarily. He’d get out on the dance floor but wasn’t interested in actually moving his body in any real way. I couldn’t help but scan the room, wondering if I’d find him hugging a wall with Alec, and when I spotted him, I saw I wasn’t far off. They were both at the bar, drinking and not saying much. I saw Peter’s head start to turn in my direction, but I quickly looked away, not wanting to let my eyes or my thoughts stay on him any longer.
Not when Beckett was doing the salt-and-pepper shaker move to make me laugh.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, my grin way too big. “I love it.”
“Not too bad yourself. What do you call that move?”
“Oh, this?” I did it again. “I call itget in the back seat. I think it’s actually the Hitchhiker, but I like my version better.”
He laughed, the low rumble an addictive sound that made me want to hear it again.
It was way too easy with Beckett, and that was what scared me the most. I was used to relationships being difficult, hard won, but this felt as easy as breathing.
Then again, this wasn’t a real relationship, so maybe that was why.
“Okay,” I said, a little breathless as we slowed for a second. “You’re annoyingly good at this.”
“High praise. Thank you.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” He winked at me, and I made a show of rolling my eyes—but as I did, I caught sight of my moms standing near the edge of the dance floor, watching us. Not in an obvious way, just nudging each other, their heads close together as they whispered things that had them smiling. At us.
“Don’t look now,” I said, stepping in closer to Beckett, “but I think we’ve got fans.”
“Yeah?” He followed my gaze, his hand settling at my waist like it belonged there. “Ah. Should I be worried your moms are staring?”
“Depends,” I said, glancing up at him. “You planning on making me look bad?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, my eyes dropping to his mouth briefly. “I know you wouldn’t.” And I meant it.
The music changed, the beat slowing down until the opening notes of “(Everything I Do) I Do It for You” played. Beckett’s hand was still on my waist, his body so close I could feel the heat of him. He was solid and steady, not going anywhere.
And when my eyes lifted to his again, there was nothing casual in the way he was looking at me.
“Dance with me,” he said. Not a question, not really. Not when he knew my answer without my having to say it.
His other hand found mine, threading our fingers together, and the way he did it so naturally made my chest warm in a way that had nothing to do with the fact we’d been dancing for so long.
Or the way we were standing so close.
He pulled me in tight and we started to move, slowly swaying as everyone in the room disappeared, the world shrinking down to the space between us.
I became increasingly aware of the way my pulse kicked up at being in his arms again, and couldn’t help thinking about our kiss earlier.
