Page 26 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

I couldn't help but laugh.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Two stepping is like a religion in Texas,” I said. “Everyone from my hometown knows how to do that and a little swing dancing.”

She seemed impressed. “I don’t think I’ve ever been dancing with a guy.”

“I’m surprised none of your boyfriends brought you out to dance,” I said. I loved taking my girlfriend out on the weekends, when I had one.

Her eyes downturned slightly, and I realized I'd hit a nerve. I just didn't know which one. Had her last boyfriend broken her heart? Or was it about the monster she’d just escaped? I shuddered to think what might have happened if no one had been there to rescue her.

A country song came on before she answered, and I said, “Looks like it's time to learn.”

She looked at me in surprise. “Oh, you don't have to do that. I’d hate to crush your toes.”

I’d grown up on a farm dealing with thousand-pound animals and this dime piece thought I couldn't handle her size? “Nonsense,” I said.

Hesitatingly, she slipped her hand in mine, heat leeching through her skin and slowly up my arm. A thrill went through me at the thought of putting my hands on her hips.

Back in Texas, guys put their arm over their partner's shoulder during a two-step, but I never really liked that. So I settled my hand just where her hip met the curve of her waist and began talking her through the moves. “Slow, slow, quick, quick. Slow, slow, quick, quick.”

Despite her talk of two left feet, she was already catching on. “You’re doing great,” I said honestly.

Still focusing on her feet, as if she could will them into submission, she said, “I just needed someone good to lead.”

Good thing she couldn’t see my dopey fucking grin.

As she slowly got the hang of the moves, we kept better pace with the song. By the time it ended, she had the most adorable grin on her face. “I think I'm getting it!”

“You’re a natural,” I replied, loving the way her body felt pressed to mine. Her hand in mine, her flesh under my other hand, moving to the music... it was almost like the song had been made just for us. For this moment.

A new song started, and she smiled up at me. “Thank you for teaching me, but I think I could use some more practice.”

I grinned at her, more than willing to help.

13

Henrietta

Confession: Sometimes, I wanted a hero to rescue me.

It was nearlymidnight when Tyler pulled up to my house. The porch light was on, but it looked like the bedroom lights were off. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least there would be no questioning until I had time to work out a story that would satisfy my grandma without breaking her heart.

Blue shadows from the dash danced across the ridges of Tyler’s arm as he put the truck in park. When I looked up to his face, his eyes were on me.

He’d caught me staring, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away. I could hardly bring myself to breathe.

I swallowed, breaking eye contact. “Thank you for coming to the rescue,” I managed, reaching for my seat belt. “I only wish you wouldn’t have to do that so often.”

I peeked up to see his response, and he wore a smile on his lips, his eyes taking me in. “What if I said I enjoyed it?”

“Then that would make one of us. I mean, the damsel-in-distress part. I actually had fun tonight at Collie’s.”

“Actually?” he said, feigning offense.

I playfully narrowed my eyes, unable to hide my smile. “I had fun. And maybe I enjoyed all the jealous looks I was getting too. Everyone wished they would have been on your arm.”

He covered his chest with his hand. “Henrietta. Cohen is a married man.”

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