Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“I don’t see why. I’ve never had to dance at family functions before.”
I waited a beat, to see if he’d put two and two together. He didn’t. “Isn’t that because you’ve never brought a date before?”
“Oh. Oh, shit.” Aaron sounded shocked. “We’re going to have to dance at this thing on Saturday.”
“Hence the problem.” His cluelessness was both irritating and endearing. “What are we going to do?”
“I have no idea.”
“Why am I here again?” Diego asked.
“You live here,” Aaron told him. We were in the living room of the Baylor House.
Diego rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“You said we could come to you for anything,” I pointed out.
“I meant like roommate problems. Not choreography.” He huffed out an exasperated breath.
“Please, Diego, we need to learn how to dance.” Aaron sounded desperate.
“Good thing I'm majoring in dance and give dance lessons on the side.” Sarcasm wasn’t his usual M.O., but I couldn't exactly blame him.
“Please, we need help,” I wasn’t above aiming sad, puppy dog eyes in his direction.
“I already helped you by running all over campus on Friday,” Diego pointed out.
“And look how well you did with that,” Aaron said. “You guys came in first. Come on, please? You're older than us. You know more things.”
Diego sat on the arm of the couch and raked a hand through his hair. “I'm only two years older than you and three years older than Mia. Trust me when I say I did not spend those extra years learning ballroom dancing.”
“I've never even been in a ballroom,” I said.
“Did I say I had?” Diego asked.
He was in some kind of mood, but I couldn't really blame him. Aaron had all but ambushed him this afternoon. And the guy who’d talked me into going on a scavenger hunt, wearing a makeshift costume, and going with him to a family event was hard to say no to.
“Please, Diego?” I asked.
Finally he rolled his eyes. “Put on some music. A waltz.”
“Thanks, man.” Aaron pulled out his phone, tapping rapidly at the screen. A minute later, the room was filled with the sound of— “Wait, that’s disco.”
I groaned, and Diego shook his head.
While Aaron kept looking, Diego pushed one of the couches and an armchair out of the way, giving us some space in the center of the room. I started dragging the coffee table to the side, but then Aaron picked up the other end, so we could move it together.
Once we did that, he held up his phone. “I found some good music. May I have this dance?” He held his hand out to me in a gentlemanly fashion that somehow made my pulse quicken.
But not enough to make me okay with making a fool out of myself. “I sure hope you’re talking to Diego, not me.”
“Be serious,” Diego grumbled. “Do you want me to help you two or not?”
“Well—” I said, wavering.
“Yes, we do,” Aaron said firmly.
A minute later, Aaron and I stood in the middle of the living room while Diego eyed us as if he was already disappointed by our lack of grace.
Classical waltz music floated from Aaron’s phone on the windowsill, filling the room with dramatic violins.
“You two need to stand closer.” Diego folded his arms across his chest.
Aaron moved a half inch closer to me. “Like this?”
Our instructor rolled his eyes. I had a feeling he’d be doing a lot of that. “Traditionally speaking, ballroom dancing works best if you actually touch each other. You two look like you’re on opposing teams across a soccer field.”
Diego pushed Aaron toward me. “Put your hand lightly on her back. A little higher, don’t grab her ass.”
“I wasn’t,” Aaron protested, and I almost laughed. Who knew Diego would be such a grumpy dance coach?
“Okay, Mia, put your left hand on his shoulder. Lightly. And now your other hand goes in his.” Diego was positioning our arms like we were mannequins. “Relax your muscles, you’re not going to arm wrestle.”
He stepped back and assessed us. His frown wasn’t encouraging. “All right, ready to lead?” he asked Aaron.
“Lead how?” Aaron sounded slightly terrified.
“Lead where?” I asked.
Diego shook his head. “I need some aspirin.”
He restarted the music on Aaron’s phone and began shouting instructions neither of us could follow. “It’s your basic box step. One, two, three. One, two, three. Aaron, step forward with your left foot. Mia, step back with your right.”
We tried. We really did.
But on the second count, Aaron stepped on my foot, we bumped knees, and I let out an undignified, “Ow.”
“Sorry,” we said at the same time.
As Diego’s instructions grew more exasperated, we tried again. No injuries this time, but no success, either.
“You two look like you’re afraid of each other,” Diego observed.
“We look like we don’t know what we’re doing,” I gritted out through clenched teeth. “Because we don’t.”