by Mia Kayla
When Dawn flipped to something with a Latin beat, my smile disappeared. Jimmy suddenly morphed as if Latin was exactly what he’d expected. With one hand on his stomach and the other hand in the air, he shook his hips to the Latin sounds echoing through the studio.
I bit my bottom lip and fidgeted with the edge of my shirt. When Dawn touched my arm, I jumped.
“Sorry. I think it’s better if I leave this to the professionals,” I said, my face already turning pink.
When I tried to walk away, she reached for my hand and tugged me back. “Where do you think you’re going? This’ll be a piece of cake. Watch.”
I groaned inwardly. “I highly doubt it.”
I gulped as she positioned me in front of Jimmy, and as instructed, I situated both hands on his shoulders. His fingers dropped to my hips, and I felt a shock of energy spread throughout my body at our connection.
He smiled at me, but I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Come on. Show me those moves,” he joked.
My stern look faded away. I tried not to smile back but failed. Yes, he would definitely pay for this later.
We both rotated toward Dawn as she explained the steps for our next dance, “This is called the cha-cha. It’s a Latin dance of Cuban origin. Smile, Bliss.” She could no doubt sense my hesitation. “This is a dance of love. You can practice this dance after hours.” She winked at us, obviously not knowing how platonic our relationship really was.
She lifted Jimmy’s right hand and placed it on my left shoulder. “This is called open position.”
He held my right hand with his left and flashed me a dimple.
Just for fun, I stepped on his foot—hard. “I’m going to get you for this present,” I warned with a calculating smile.
He threw back his head in laughter.
“You guys are too cute,” Dawn said, amused by our banter.
Cute, my butt. We wouldn’t be so cute in a few seconds when I broke Jimmy’s toes.
Dawn moved next to me but faced Jimmy. “Okay, Bliss, take my lead. One small step forward with your left and then rock back onto the right foot. The counts are one, two, cha-cha-cha.”
I followed her lead but stopped as my uncoordinated self couldn’t count and step at the same time. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re doing good,” she encouraged.
I wondered how many times she had to say that in a day. It was probably a lot.
“Okay, home position, and let’s begin again. One, two, cha-cha-cha. Good. Very good. One, two, cha-cha-cha. Now, alternate feet. Jimmy, you’re doing excellent.”
“Yeah, he was born a dancer,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Fell out of the womb dancing.”
He leaned in, inches from my face. A seductive smile crept up his face, causing my heart to stammer in my chest.
“Hey, it’s a love dance, right? You know, I’m a lover, not a fighter,” he teased.
I smacked him on the shoulder.
Dawn continued, “Good, Bliss. Okay, let’s slow down the tempo.”
“Slow sounds good,” I agreed, gripping Jimmy’s muscles. Suddenly, I realized this was the only time I would ever be able to hold him without being obvious about how much I wanted to touch him.
Dawn reached for her remote and switched the song to a slower and more seductive Latin song. “Now, this is truly for cha-cha.”
My pulse quickened when, Jimmy started to step to the music, and all I could do was follow his lead. I was stiff as a board as I moved my feet opposite his.
Frantically, I mouthed, One, two, cha-cha-cha.
I didn’t really see what was relaxing or fun about this, let alone sexy.
“Hips. Move your hips,” Dawn commanded.
Jimmy inched closer, and with the tips of his fingers on my hips, he guided me. “Like this.”
His fingertips grazed my bare skin just above my skirt and below my silk top. I could hear the air conditioner running in the background, but I felt like I was about to burst into flames from his touch.
My lips parted as he moved my hips slowly from side to side, and my feet followed without command. When the lights dimmed, Jimmy occupied all my senses. I was hyperaware of his whole being in front of me. I could smell the light scent of his cologne and feel his fingertips against the tender part of my back. I bit my lip as his eyes locked on me. There was an electricity in the air. If I reached out and touched his face, I wondered if it would shock me. I didn’t notice where Dawn was or if she’d stepped out of the room.
“No, like this,” he said softly, his voice husky, his breath quickening.
Automatically, my feet moved opposite his, continuing the cha-cha as though I’d been dancing for years. My body was in tune with his as he moved my hips from left to right in a circular rhythm. He caressed my skin as he brought me closer, continually working my hips.
Left, right. Left, right.
Oh God. I couldn’t even tell if I was still breathing.
As his fingers dug a little harder, a hunger stirred deep in my belly, one that surfaced whenever he was around. I wanted more. I wanted closer—chest to chest, my lips on his lips.
He peered down at me through hooded eyes. We were only a breath apart, and there was a stammering in my heart that I couldn’t control. I started to feel light-headed as I leaned in even closer.
My mouth parted, and I seductively bit my bottom lip. I wanted to kiss him. All those arguments I’d had with myself, not wanting to ruin our friendship, were completely silent, my hormones trumping my ability to think clearly. All of me wanted to step over that friendship line and go for it.
I lifted my chin, putting our mouths that much closer, and it was as if we both stopped breathing. There was an almost pained look in his eyes as he licked his lips, hesitating but wanting. I swore I could see the same want mirrored in his eyes.
Then, the lights flipped on, breaking our connection, and the heated moment fizzled like a leaky balloon. He jumped back as though he’d been jolted. His eyes blinking, his look of desire from moments ago changed as he ran one hand through his hair to the base of his neck.
“You did great, Boo.” His voice quivered. He seemed shaky.
It was as if I had imagined the look of lust in his eyes from just seconds earlier.
I just nodded at him in response, my heart sinking. We’d almost kissed. It had almost happened, and all I could think was that it would have been the best birthday present ever.
“Happy Birthday” played in the background, changing the mood in the room.
Jimmy guiltily smiled, flashing me a dimple. When I turned around, Dawn was holding a white sheet cake with a decorative pink princess tower on the top. My hand flew to my mouth. It was the exact replica of the cake that I’d had when I turned eighteen.
“Jimmy,” I breathed, emotions rushing through me.
I remembered it being such a childish cake for an eighteen-year-old, but my father had insisted on it. He’d laughed it off, teasing that I’d forever be his princess and that he remembered a time when I used to be excited whenever I saw anything princess.
At the time, I’d scoffed at the cake, like a typical snooty teenager. That was when Jimmy had taken a piece of frosting and smeared it on my face. He had thought it was funny, but I had thought it was hilarious because, in the next instant, I’d dug my hands, palms deep, into the cake and smashed the handfuls in his face.
Now, with tears in my eyes, I remembered that day so clearly. Everyone had had a piece of cake when I initiated the food fight, even though we weren’t eating it. My family had never laughed so hard. That was the last time I’d celebrated my birthday, the last time I’d blown out birthday candles, the last time I’d partied with my father.
My breathing slowed as I stood in front of the cake, and a lump formed in the back of my throat.
Jimmy ducked his head close to mine, with the sweetest look on his face. “Listen, pretty girl, no sad faces today. It took me forever to find a picture of that cake and then track down th
e bakery where he got it. Did you know that the same family has been working at that place for years?” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it even though it didn’t matter one bit. He was just being Jimmy, silly and sweet and perfect.
My mouth trembled as all my pent-up emotions about my father bubbled in my chest.
The next moment, I pulled Jimmy to me, wrapping my arms around his neck, as I pushed my face against his chest. Inhaling the light scent of his cologne, I released a silent sigh as tears that I hadn’t shed since my father’s funeral started to wind down my cheeks.
Thoughts of my dad and his smiling face filtered through my mind as I used Jimmy to steady myself. He was my anchor, keeping me stable.
His arms wrapped around my lower back, and he rested his cheek on top of my head. “I really want you to start blowing out candles again, to celebrate you. I know that’s what he would have wanted. It’s wrong, Boo, that you don’t do it anymore.”
I shook my head against his chest, wiping my tears on his shirt while willing them to stop. I’d been holding it in for so long, for so many years. He clutched me tighter, letting my hot tears drench his shirt.
I peeked up when I heard Dawn now singing a capella to the slow tune of “Happy Birthday.” I swiped at my eyes as I took in twenty-three lit candles illuminating the dark room.
Jimmy framed my shoulders and moved me in front of my cake. “Make a wish, Boo. Happy golden birthday, my favorite girl.”
I wondered when Jimmy had had time to do this—to plan and orchestrate such an event. He must have been in contact with my mother behind my back. He was always doing this—pushing me out of my comfort zone, helping me enjoy the little tidbits of life.
Tonight was just over the top with the dancing and the birthday cake. Tonight was the first time I had stood in front of a cake in years. With a deep breath, I tightly shut my eyes and made two wishes. It was my golden birthday, and I felt I was allowed.
I wished that I would someday be able to talk or think about my father without fighting the urge to cry. I wanted to heal, and maybe this was the first step. As I started to make my second wish, I opened my eyes. Right before I blew out the candles, I glanced at Jimmy, our eyes locking. Even though it was a stretch, I wished from the deepest part of my heart that I could one day keep him all to myself, that he’d be in love with me as much as I was in love with him.
With one more deep breath, I blew out all twenty-three candles on my pretty pink princess cake. Then, I blinked back more tears as I took in the grin and those dimples that I adored so much.
One day…
By the time the night was over, I had learned the hokey pokey, the cha-cha, the waltz, and the foxtrot. My feet hurt from exhaustion, my entire body was tired, and my stomach was cramping from all the laughter. As Dawn locked up the studio and then left, Jimmy and I took a moment to rest on the steps of the warehouse, enjoying the brisk cool air of the evening. My feet were torn up and I hoped I’d be able to get back up.
I wiggled my toes in my shoes, trying to ease the pain from dancing half the night away. “My feet are killing me.”
“Here, let me.” Slowly, he tugged off my heels and pulled my feet onto his lap. “After all, it is your birthday.” He smirked.
Feeling self-conscious, I tried to retrieve my feet, but he secured their position in the center of his lap.
“Jimmy, I don’t think—” I didn’t want him to massage my sweaty feet even if he didn’t care.
“This little piggy went to the market,” he teased in a deep baritone voice, pulling at my big toe. “This little piggy stayed at home. This little piggy had roast beef.”
“You’re so silly.” I laughed.
A ridiculous grin lit up his face, making him look younger. “Your toes are so skinny. They remind me of fingers.” He laced his giant fingers through my toes. “Nice to meet you,” he said in a funny voice, shaking my foot.
“Stop.” I giggled, holding my stomach. “You’re such a goofball.”
“But you love me,” he said matter-of-factly as though he were that sure.
If you only knew how much…
“That I do,” I told him, my laughter dying down.
I tore my eyes away from his, not wanting him to read the longing on my face, and I watched a couple strolling down the street, holding hands and walking their dog. “Are there apartments around here?”
“I think some of these old warehouses have been rebuilt into condos.”
I glanced around at the area, noting the hodgepodge warehouses, some with peeling paint and a couple with rusted window frames but mostly rebuilt with a modern exterior. “These buildings are so deceiving from the outside.”
“Yeah, you’d never know a full dance studio was in there, huh? Gotcha!” He tickled my feet.
I squealed and playfully kicked him.
“Don’t worry. I promise I’ll get you back,” I warned with a pointed look. “And you know when I promise…”
He looked amused. “I wanna see you try.”
He started to knead my feet, and I leaned back on my elbows, admiring the full moon shining brightly in the sky. A calm in the air washed over me. I closed my eyes, feeling my whole body relax, as Jimmy continued to massage the soles of my feet.
“Mmm…maybe you should quit football and be a professional masseur.”
“Maybe I shall.”
I could hear the humor in his voice.
After a few moments of silence, I opened my eyes, almost afraid I’d doze off on the steps. “My father did that, the ‘This Little Piggy’ rhyme,” I said softly. It came out of nowhere.
Jimmy carefully watched me. “I know,” he said, a small smile on his face. “He did it with my feet, too.”
I sighed and released a soft chuckle. “I remember.” I pulled my feet from Jimmy’s lap, sat up and let them rest on the cool concrete. I glanced up at the moon again, wondering about my father, what he was doing, hoping he was happy in heaven. “I…I miss him.” I clutched the diamond necklace at my throat, the one my father had given me for prom. It was a sentimental present that had meant so much to him, as it did to me, because it had belonged to my grandmother.
“I know, Boo.” He scooted over until our thighs were touching, and he wrapped an arm around me.
“I was his princess. He always said I was the light of his world, but really”—I choked back tears—“he was mine.”
My breathing slowed, and a heaviness pressed down on me as I recalled memories of my father.
A silence seemed to drag on forever until Jimmy spoke, “I remember the time he told me my dog went back to the doggy farm because the mama dog had to take care of it.” He smiled at the memory, his face half lit by the moonlight.
I vividly recalled that day. It was one of the few times I had witnessed Jimmy crying. Pebbles was sick, and my father hadn’t wanted Jimmy and me to know the truth, that Jimmy’s parents had been forced to put him to sleep.
“That was just the kind of person he was, you know?” Jimmy murmured.
I nodded, emotions practically clogging my throat. “He was also the kind of person who would eat my green beans when Mom wasn’t looking,” I said, my voice cracking.
Jimmy nudged my shoulder, and we both laughed at the memory.
We continued chatting about my father for over an hour, only laughing or smiling as we reminisced. By the time I glanced at my watch, it was close to midnight.
I reached for Jimmy’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Jimmy, for one of the best birthdays I’ve had in a really long time.”
Both dimples popped on his cheeks. “You deserve it, princess,” he said, touching the tip of my nose.
Then, he tugged me up, my feet protesting, and we walked back to my car, arm in arm. There was a lightness in my heart and a bounce in my step I hadn’t felt in a really long time.
As I searched the night sky for the brightest star, another memory of my father rushed to the surface. I smiled, realizing that one of my wishe
s had come true. I’d talked about my father without having the urge to cry.
I peered at Jimmy, watching the moonlight cast shadows on his face. I wondered if there were any chance my other wish would come true as well.
The next morning, I lay in bed while Jimmy started breakfast.
“Don’t you have any more eggs in here?” Jimmy yelled from the kitchen.
I hollered back, “On the right side behind the milk.”
Pushing the covers off, I put on my slippers and pulled my light-blonde locks into a bun before joining Jimmy in the kitchen. This was probably the one part of my birthday that I still loved. During the past few years, it had become the one day when we switched roles. This morning, Jimmy was cooking me breakfast, and I was definitely enjoying the view.
“I need some meat. This man wants some meat,” he growled in a deep caveman voice as he shut the fridge and opened the freezer. “You’ve got steak in here. Steak and eggs. Steak and eggs,” he grunted, his muscles moving under his fitted shirt.
When I laughed, he turned around. He regarded me for a second before the corners of his mouth lifted into a sad smile. “I’m gonna miss you, Boo.”
I’m gonna miss you, too.
I couldn’t exactly say it because he’d sense the longing in my voice.
“You’re just going to miss my cooking,” I said, trying to rein in my thoughts. I pushed him away from the fridge and reached into the freezer, taking out two steaks and placing them under running water. “Are you nervous about the season starting?”
He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the black marble counter. “Do you even know who you’re talking to? I’m taking this team all the way, baby—all the way to the Super Bowl.”
His dimples appeared, and my eyes drifted to his beefy thick arms.
I almost sighed aloud. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure.” I smacked him on his arm just so I could have an excuse to touch him.
I loved his air of confidence, but I wasn’t about to feed his ego. He was that good, and anyone would agree. He was star quarterback at Deerfield High, he had a full-ride football scholarship to Florida State, and he was in the first round draft pick into the pro league.