Page 50 of Heartsmashed
“Yeah,” he said, finally. “I’ll take that.”
The music changed into something faster, the bass heavy and impossible to ignore, and I didn’t give myself time to overthink it. I started to move to the beat and pointed at him. “All right, let’s see what you’ve got.”
His response was to roll his shoulders, like he was actually preparing, and I barked out a laugh.
“Oh my God, are you stretching? This is not that serious.”
“It’s very serious,” he said, completely straight-faced. “We promised Running Man.”
“We did.” Since he was making a show of stretching, I did the same, extending my hands up overhead and leaning from side to side. Then I shook my body out and said, “Okay. Show me.”
I didn’t really think he’d do it, so when he busted out the move, my jaw hit the floor.
Maybe because he was so cool, calm, and collected all the time, I just hadn’t been able to picture him letting loose, but there he was, in the middle of the party, doing a better Running Man than I could.
I could only stare at him before shaking my head. “No. Absolutely not. You don’t get to be good at this too.”
“Told you I could be enticed.”
“Well, shit. Now I’ve gotta up my game,” I said, matching his moves and increasing the energy, because if I was going to embarrass myself, I was going to do it properly.
I couldn’t help but laugh as we danced, watching the way Beckett’s hair flopped over his forehead with every bounce. His entire face seemed to transform as we spurred each other on, and just like that, the last few weeks of complicated heaviness melted away.
It was impossible to have anything but fun when you were acting a fool to “Gonna Make You Sweat.” It was real, stupid, uninhibited fun, the kind I hadn’t realized I’d been missing untilit was right there, pulling me in and dragging Beckett along with it whether he wanted to or not.
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said. “What about this one?”
I switched to something I thought vaguely resembled a move I’d seen before, and Beckett raised a brow.
“Is that supposed to be the Roger Rabbit?”
“That’s the one,” I said, snapping. “Is this not how you do it?”
“I think it’s more like a backward Running Man.” He pulled his arms up by his sides and began to skip backward, somehow not knocking into anyone, because the man was perfect.
The dance was ridiculous.
The dance in that damn tracksuit, though, was taking me out.
And speaking of taking me out, Beckett stopped suddenly, reaching for the suspender I’d left loose and hanging. He pulled it over my shoulder and buckled it, blue eyes twinkling as he grinned at me.
“This was flailing around, trying to knock you unconscious,” he said.
“Sure. You just wanna cover me up, don’t ya?”
“Trust me, I don’t.” The words were out of his mouth before he seemed to realize it, and when he didn’t move away immediately, I felt it: that spark between us, the one I couldn’t be imagining…right? It wasn’t just a one-sided thing. Couldn’t be.
He stepped back—or should I say Roger Rabbited back—but his eyes never left mine. God, it was so easy to fall into them, and tonight they were even lighter than usual.
This was a side I hadn’t seen of him, and just like everything else he’d shown me, it only made me want him more.
Fuck.That was the first time I’d let myself think it.
I wanted Beckett.
“Oh, you can’t stop now,” he said when I only stood there watching him.
The song changed to “The Humpty Dance,” and out of the corner of my eye I saw both my moms, completely decked out in shoulder pads, break into the dance that went along with it.
