Page 62 of As You Walk On

After a quick search on my phone, I read, “Dancing isto move rhythmically to music” from the screen. “That wasn’t you two.”

Aleah splutters into her cup. The level of fire in my cheeks rises. Never in a million years did I imagine being able to make Aleah Bird laugh again, but here we are.

“Bullshit,” Makayla disputes after another gulp. “We were just as good as you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Hell yes,” Luca replies. He chews aggressively on a sour gummy worm. I’d be lying if I didn’t say this defiant, cocky version of him is mildly... hot?

Pulling my knees to my chest to hide a slow-rising erection, I say, “What’re we talking here? One-on-one? Me against you two or—”

“Team competition!” River fist-pumps the air. “Makayla and Luca versus Theo and Aleah!”

My face falls.

Aleah protests before I can. “Hard pass!” She shakes her head. “I don’t have anything to prove to anyone, especially not with—”

Makayla reaches across our circle to grasp Aleah’s hands, smiling tenderly. “Please. It’ll be way better than going back downstairs.”

It’s clear: no one wants to return to the party. Especially not me. Which means I have two choices—lock myself in the bathroom again or accept my fate, being partnered with the one personin this room who looks like she wants to murder me.

Aleah asks River, “Why aren’t you participating?”

“Impartial judge,” they reply.

“Why can’t I be the judge?” Aleah asks, insulted.

“I also have an unfair advantage over all of you,” explains River. “Multiple years of tap, jazz, hip-hop, and contemporary dance classes.”

Aleah looks impressed.

River brushes back their bangs. Pink blush freckles their cheeks. “My sister had a lot of... ambitions growing up. She’s also a noncommittal monster. She’d drag me to all her latest phases until she got tired and moved on.” They pointedly eye the ground. “My parents always gave Katie the freedom to discover herself. But with me, it’s—”

They stop abruptly.

We all wait. Our silence is only interrupted by the crash of something falling over downstairs. No one asks River to finish. We have a mutual understanding:Now’s not the time.

Though we’re all here voluntarily, we’re still primarily—in the most basic definition—strangers.

“Let’s get this over with,” Aleah finally says, and sighs. She glares at an overeager Luca. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Without acknowledging each other, Aleah and I end up on the same side of the room. Makayla and Luca are opposite us. River settles into the middle of the blanket, scrolling through their phone.

As the challengers, River insists Team KayLu—ugh, gross—goes first. They whisper fervently before calling out what song to play.

Makayla and Luca scurry into position, backs to us. Is this a dance competition or an audition for YPT? A K-pop song I vaguely recognize thanks to students humming it between classes comes on. Luca and Makayla break into synchronized steps. They smoothly meld an amalgam of TikTok dances.

It’s not bad.

“Get it, girl!” Aleah shouts over the synth-heavy chorus.

To my surprise, Makayla’s more than hair flips and jerky hips. She has rhythm. There’s a fluidness to her arm movements. She’s easily better than Jay, who’s one offbeat clap away from white-frat-bro purgatory, and Darren, whose moves are borrowed from the Dad’s Guide to Dancing playbook.

But it’s Luca who has me absentmindedly biting my thumbnail jagged.

He floats between dances. His feet are light and smooth. No stiffness in his shoulders. No hesitation when his motions speed up. And his hips...

At one point, he rotates them while lifting the hem of his shirt and,sweet baby Jesus.

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