by A. E. Murphy
He presses his lips to mine, startling me, but he pulls back just as quickly as he lunged. “Let’s dance, then.”
“Let’s.”
The following Wednesday, after an incredible weekend shopping for clothes with Lane, teaching Asher and Alice a few dance moves, learning to ride a bike with Carter, screwing around in church with Alice, learning to drive with Stanley, practicing the rather sensual dance with Carter, and handing in a mountain of homework to keep my grades above average, the third member of our dance group returns.
“You’re here.” My tone is one of breathy surprise as I observe Presley whose eye still looks really fucked up. There’s a purple, blue, and black bruise going all the way across his cheekbone but his eye isn’t swollen shut anymore.
“Yep.” He continues stretching, not even looking my way.
“How’s your eye?”
“Don’t fucking talk to me.”
“Charming as ever,” I mumble, dropping my shit by the door and taking my spot a couple of meters away from him.
“I said don’t talk to me.”
“If you don’t like me talking to you, there’s a door right there.” I shouldn’t provoke him, I feel bad for him after what Carter said, but at the same time I’m not about to be a verbal punching bag to help him heal. Fuck that.
He pushes his hands through his bleach-blond hair, it’s short on the sides and longer on the top. He’s such a teen heartthrob on the surface, but knowing what I know, and seeing what I see in his eyes… he’s terrified. He’s got an air to him that reminds me of a little boy on the verge of a breakdown from being powerless and unable to control his life falling apart around him.
“You’re back, then?” Carter asks, glancing between us as he enters the room, forehead and shoulders glistening with moisture. It’s raining outside, he must have biked here again. He looks so good right now and he has that fresh, clean air smell to him. I want to press my hot body against his damp one. “Took you long enough.”
Presley stands and they do that bro shoulder thing, where they clasp hands and hug. “Had to get my head straight.”
“Looks wonky as fuck to me,” I mutter and Carter shoots me an imploring look.
“Sour because your uncle doesn’t feed you his dick anymore?” Presley retorts, face holding that familiar scowl.
“It’s all good, I get my kicks outta watching your dad feed you his.”
His incredibly blueish-gray eyes darken. “How was Louisiana Institution? Heard they have some decent rooms. Bars on the windows and everything.”
“Can you both stop?” Carter pleads. “Can we just fucking dance?”
I shrug and take my space with Carter who winks at me when I get close enough. Hammond walks in and after a brief hello he starts the music and we begin.
Carter and I have practiced this dance so much that we have it nailed. I’m giddy from how well it’s going. Even though I knew it would. We just get each other’s bodies; we know how to work each other. I can follow his movements with my eyes and know where he’s leading me.
Not to mention the fact every brush of his body against my own sets me on fire.
“And where the fuck do I come into this two-person fuck sesh?” Presley asks bitterly.
“When I take her to the ground and she slides away from under me, we thought you could pull her out and we could go from there. The routine isn’t set in stone, we can manipulate it so it’s like we are fighting for her affections. It’ll be hot as hell.”
Hammond nods his agreement. “He’s right, it’ll be like telling a story through dance, a sexy story.”
“Except I don’t find her sexy. I can’t stand her.”
“Then make it so you’re pushing her out of the group. I don’t fucking know. Change it, contribute to it, figure it out. So long as it tells a story, a good one.”
I roll my shoulders and take my starting position again.
Suddenly dance class feels less fun than it did. Before it was all about trying to get casual touches in with Carter because it’s exciting. Now Carter is hardly acknowledging me at all and I’m being forced to touch a boy who I don’t like one bit.
Whatever. I don’t need this drama. I just need to concentrate on my dance which is now being torn apart by Presley fucking Myers.
After half an hour of his suggestions I take a break, only to be yanked back by Carter as the dance requires, pulled away from him by Presley and tossed onto the mat like I’m weightless. I hit it hard after a stumble and a roll. I wasn’t expecting it at all.
“YES!” Hammond cries like I wasn’t just thrown away like a used toy.
I glare at Presley who is smiling with a smug grin. The bastard.
“Now if you can just land a bit more gracefully, Scandal.” Hammond is acting like I knew that was going to fucking happen. I am livid.
“Maybe if I had warning,” I snap, glaring at Presley.
He doesn’t respond at all and I decide now that I don’t just dislike him, I hate him, despite his shit life. Why should I care about his when he doesn’t give a fuck about mine?
“I’m going for a break,” I snarl and stomp away.
“Scan,” Carter calls after me but I tell him not to follow me with a look over my shoulder.
“Scan? Since when did you two become friends?”
“I’m just trying to get to college, Pres.”
I stop drinking my water bottle and look at Carter. Regret flashes in his eyes but the damage is done. I knew that’s what he wanted really. I’m so fucking naïve. And even if that’s not what he wants, he’s a pussy and I don’t like people who don’t have a spine.
“Can we practice lifts now?” Presley asks and I know that he’s really wanting just another excuse to throw me around again.
I pick up my bag and go to leave.
Hammond shouts, “Where are you going?”
“I can’t dance with somebody I don’t fucking trust and Presley is going to break my neck and get away with it.” I look at them all. “Dance is all I have. I’m not risking it. I’m not dancing with him. I’ll dance with Carter, but not him. I’m done.”
“Wait,” Carter begs, catching up to me. “What the fuck, Scandal? You can’t just walk out on me.”
“You didn’t have my back in there. You told me to trust you, I did, now I don’t.”
“I told you—”
“Don’t care. Not my problem.”
“Scandal Oaks,” Hammond snaps, sounding loud and irritated. “You get back here right now.”
“As soon as you put the dickhead in the trash bag of shit dancers where he belongs.”
“Fuck you, Newman! We both know I could dance circles around you.”
I laugh cruelly. “And that’s why you need me for any chance at winning?”
Presley stares at me, hatred mirroring back at me and I could not give a fuck.
“Get over yourself, Presley.”
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Carter yells gripping his head with both hands. He’s so fucking angry right now. “What the fuck, guys? You’re both insane. Absolutely insane.”
He walks over to Hammond and starts whisper-hissing. When I go to leave, he points at me. “Don’t fucking move.”
I freeze in place and resist the urge to punch Presley who smirks at me.
“Do you have the keys?” Carter asks quietly. It’s the only part of their conversation that I hear.
They both start to run like their life depends on it.
“What the hell?” I question quietly as they race for the doors, push through them and slam them shut behind them.
Presley collides with the closed door and starts pushing on the bar. “OPEN THE DOOR NOW.”
“They did not,” I breathe, gaping when the lock on the door clicks.
“Fire escape,” Presley hisses and we both run for the door that leads directly outside. We shove at each other in a bid to reach it first, slapping at each other’s hands, delaying our approach.
Just as we re
ach it we hear a scraping sound on the other side and laughter with it.
“You absolute idiots,” Presley yells, managing to open it a fraction of an inch.
“Sorry, guys, but here’s the deal,” Carter calls through the crack. “You two aren’t leaving that room until you’ve choreographed a dance.”
“Are you shitting me right now?” I ask, laughing humorlessly. “I have other classes.”
“You better be quick, then,” Hammond comments, laughing like this is hilarious. “Good idea, Carter.”
“You’re both pricks.”
I look at Presley who slides down the door until he’s sitting with his hands over his knees. “I’m not dancing with you.”
I roll my eyes but don’t reply. Instead I go to the speaker, put on some music and dance by myself, practicing spins and moves in the mirror.
I’m having fun, even if he’s not. I’ve never had a full dance studio to myself before.
“You’re so heavy footed,” he comments, playing on his phone.
I ignore him and keep going, spinning and spinning faster and faster. I drop into a perfect split and give him my middle finger.
His cold eyes roll back to his phone.
“I thought you said you could dance circles around me?” I taunt, still practicing moves to the tempo of the music. I’m slightly breathless as is expected.
“I can.”
“Prove it.”
“Don’t need to prove shit to you.”
Sighing, I continue what I’m doing, annoyed that I’m being punished for his shit attitude. “Fine. Will you at least show me how you do a monkey flip? I can never get the arm right.”
I’m surprised when he stands, at first I think he’s actually going to help me, but then he starts banging on the door again and shouting for them to let him out.
“You’re such a whiny bitch,” I bark. “Just come here, let’s work on a shit routine to get them to let us go. Okay?”
Seeming to see reason, he drops his phone on the mat and gives me another sneer. “Fine. Let’s practice the lifts.”
“Yeah, right, so you can drop me on my head. Do I look stupid?”
“Depends on who you’re asking.”
What an absolute twatwaffle.
I skip the music and we finally start working on something side by side, it doesn’t tie in with the dance we already have but at least we’re doing something.
Hammond and Carter let us out an hour later.
“I want to try the lift from Dirty Dancing,” I declare excitedly, looking at Carter as I shake my limbs. “Think you can handle it?”
“I can handle a lot of things from Dirty Dancing.”
I throw my sweat rag at his head and get ready to run at him. “You ready?”
“Let me get away from the wall,” he says with a chuckle and moves to the middle of the mat.
I run, my legs let me soar towards him, his smile doesn’t vanish, even as he grabs my hips as I jump, doesn’t lift high enough and my stomach collides with his face as my legs go around him.
We fall into a laughing heap on the mat, untangling from each other after a moment of hilarity.
“Fail,” I comment playfully and squeal with glee when he rolls me onto my back. “I thought we said you weren’t going to do this anymore.”
His hand grabs mine and pins it above my head, then the other does the same until we’re resting forearm to forearm, fingers interlaced.
“I told you I was sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it, I just panicked.”
His breathing is slightly choppy from the exertion.
I stare up into his face, bending my legs slightly around his hips. His sparkling brown eyes darken with arousal and I feel him thicken against my groin.
I don’t know how this happened between us.
An hour ago I was with Alice and Asher at Bowler Mania trying to convince Melvin to give Asher another chance. Carter showed up and begged me to practice with him and Alice convinced me to go. Presley looked grumpy that his friend was leaving him for me, but Carter surprisingly had my back at last.
“We’re doing this together whether you like it or not. Stop making it hell, Presley, life is shit enough already. You don’t want to dance, don’t dance, but don’t be a dick to her because of it.” Then he took my hand in his and we left, came to his barn and have been dancing ever since. Nothing weird happened… until now. And I suppose it’s my fault for trying such a move.
“Your dick is huge,” I say before I can stop myself.
His lips stretch into a slow, lazy, arrogant smile. He rolls his hips, grinding against me, and we both groan. “Wanna touch it?”
I wet my lips. “Can I see it?”
His smile fades and his cheeks pink either side of his nose. “Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve never seen a dick before?”
“Not properly, no.”
He blinks, surprised. “You’re a virgin?”
I laugh nervously and clear my throat, closing my eyes when he grinds against me again. “I’m not a virgin, I’ve just never explored a man’s body.”
“Well, who am I to deny you such a request?” Then he taps his nose against mine. “On one condition.”
“You want me to kiss you.”
“Exactly. You’re smarter than you look.”
“Fuck you, pretty boy. I look smart.”
He laughs and descends, cheeks still flush with excitement and embarrassment from my request.
When his lips touch mine, I melt into the floor, a puddle of electric goo wanting to be molded back to shape with his hands. He groans, touching his tongue to my own. He tastes minty and sweet, just like last time. His cock between us gets harder and his hands, that I mentally begged to explore my body, start exploring my body.
The one that pinned my right hand slides down my bicep, to the side of my breast, to my waist, and then it curves under me and grips my rear.
I inhale slowly and he groans when he presses even harder against me.
Our lips continue to dance. Much like our bodies, we connect so well with such incredible chemistry.
His lips leave mine after a few more seconds and flutter over my skin, to my neck, shoulder, then back up again.
The music stops, leaving us in silence. All I can hear is the roar of my heartbeat, our heavy breathing mingling, and the shuffle of fabric as our bodies rub together.
He tenses and looks up, then dives off my body faster than I can catch with my eyes.
“Sit up, someone’s coming,” he hisses and the door opens with a groan.
I expected his mom or dad to walk in. I did not expect Presley.
Carter turns away, adjusting himself and turning on the music.
We are so lucky it cut off when it did.
“What are you both doing?” Presley asks.
I wonder if he can see my swollen lips and panic. “We were doing that lift at the end of Dirty Dancing, but Carter fucked it up.”
“Why that lift?”
“Because it’s fun,” I reply, wanting to say, “Duh” to him, but thinking better off it.
“I can do it,” Presley tells me and I snort. “No, seriously. I can do it.”
“Without dropping me on my head?”
“I promise.” There’s a sincerity to his tone that even I believe in. “You have my word, that if we dance together, I won’t be an ass and purposely hurt you.”
I consider it because he’s asking a lot of me right now. But Carter begs me with his eyes to make an effort, so with a sigh I stand and hold out my pinkie finger.
Presley wraps his around it much to my surprise and then Carter takes my other one so he doesn’t feel left out.
I giggle under my breath as I stand with crossed arms facing two teenage guys who are about to start throwing me around like a doll.
“You,” I say to Carter who is looking at me like he wants me alone in his bedroom, stark naked.
Presley isn’t looking
at me like anything. He’s just blank.
“Get ready to catch me if he fucks up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He takes point behind Presley who braces himself as I walk backwards to the far corner of the mat.
“Ready?” I ask Presley, begging him with my eyes to not drop me.
He shakes his hands and nods. “Go.”
I fly at him, my feet hitting the mat, and the second his hands go to my hips, I jump, holding my breath, trying not to scream.
He raises me up and goes back a step for balance. I straighten my legs and spread my arms, expecting to meet the ground at any second, but I don’t. I remain suspended on strong, unwavering arms, palms flat against my hips, fingers curving around my flesh.
“Oh my God,” I squeak.
“Don’t laugh, you’ll shake,” Presley urges, sounding strained.
“We so need to add this to the dance.” Carter walks around us and takes a photo.
“How do I get down?” I ask and Presley slowly starts to lower me towards his head. I tilt my body just so, until I’m sliding down his chest and my feet are on the floor. My body is humming from the excitement… and his body, but I’ll deny the latter. “That was… awesome.”
He looks away shyly and I wonder if it’s because of how close I am. Then he walks away and Carter changes the music.
“So we’re doing this?” he asks, sounding giddy. “We’re actually going to dance together, no drama?”
I look at Presley and Presley looks at me.
“It’s not your fault that my dad got fired,” he finally admits with a grumpy tone, looking away again. “He brought it on himself.”
Carter grins like the cat that got the cream and then winks at me. He really did speak to him just like he promised.
“And I shouldn’t have told everybody your business.” He’s still going. I could get used to this.
Carter slaps his friend on the back. “So we all good?”
I nod. “We’re good.”
“Then let’s do this shit.”
Presley rolls his eyes, his face unchanging, but this is progress. I doubt we will ever be friends, but we can at least do this without wanting to constantly maim each other.