Page 47 of No Rhyme or Roughing
“Start.”
“Just… start?” He looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “Aren’t you going to teach me?”
“If you’re going to question everything I say, I’ll just…”
He caught me around the waist to stop me from leaving and spun me to face him. “Okay, fine. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Just what every choreographer yearns to hear from her clients.”
He didn’t let me go as he moved his hips, swaying me with him. I took his hand and spun myself out, then he yanked me back to him. I laughed as we began dancing together.
At this, he wasn’t so bad. No stepping on toes, no awkward fumbling. His feet were quick, his arms steady.
“See what happens when you loosen up?”
He smiled down at me. “You too. Why is it that dancing is the only time you seem…”
“Seem what?”
I’d heard this before. It was the only time I was sexy, confident, graceful.
“Happy.”
I stopped moving, shoving his hands away. “You don’t know me, Ryder. Don’t pretend you do.” Happy? What even was that? It had no tangible meaning.
He reached for me again, taking my hand. “I’m sorry.Don’t be mad.” His hips continued their side-to-side movement as he stuck out one lip in a pout.
Lifting a brow, I couldn’t help smiling, my chest loosening. I withdrew my hand from his. “Good. Your hips are good.”
“You like my hips?”
“No… I… Fuck you.”
He laughed, long and loud. We’d gained an audience now—just what I wanted for him—but he hadn’t seemed to notice. The song switched, and he started lifting his arms the way I’d shown him last night.
“You remembered.” I jumped forward on one foot, kicking the other toe against the ground, and then turned in a circle.
He tried to imitate me, but his back toe tripped him up, and his Everest height ended up horizontal on the ground.
I looked down at him, pressing my lips together to keep from laughing.
“Going to help me up?” he asked.
I reached a hand down, but I should have seen it coming. He yanked, and I sprawled onto the grass at his side, my belly aching from laughter.
Our audience dispersed, going back to their regularly scheduled gawking from afar.
Ryder turned his head, catching my gaze with his. “I’m sorry about what I said. It’s just, sometimes you seem…” He sighed. “Distant, I guess. Like what you’re showing us isn’t the real you.”
He hit so close to the truth that I sucked in a harsh breath.
“Did I say the wrong thing again?”
“No.” He was so honest, so open. It made me want to be too. “I just know that people don’t really want what I have to say.” I shrugged, sitting up.
He followed. “I do.”
I looked sideways at him, really looked. At the way his eyes darkened, the tiny creases his face earned over the years. Perfect lips that said the perfect things. And also the wrong ones.
