Page 27 of The Frathole
“Confident and comfortable? Great. Two things I’m shit at.” It’s like he’s already talking himself out of it. “And if we agree to do this,” he goes on, “does this mean you’re gonna stop flirting with her around me?”
This again.
“I’ve never flirted with her,” I insist. “Maybe I talked to her more than I would have normally for, like, a day to get under your skin, but trust me, if I were flirting, I would’ve already sealed the deal.”
He studies my face as though trying to work out if I’m being sincere, but he’s seen me operate, and I’m sure somewhere in that messy head of his, he knows it’s true. His gaze wavers before he says, “This is a horrible idea.”
Fuck. Well, I tried. Of course it couldn’t be that easy.
“When are we starting?”
My lips twist into a smile. Touchdown.
“Then it’s a deal?”
He extends his hand, and we shake on it. I’m impressed that this is going according to plan.
“So,” I say, “how about, in the name of good faith, you go ahead and show me something?”
It’s not that I’m excited to learn how to tango, but the sooner I can get Marty to let his guard down and chill, the easier it’s gonna be for us to get along…and maybe get him past writing down every infraction he could potentially use against me.
“We’re starting this tonight?” he asks.
“We don’t have to get into anything complicated. Show me some basics. Did you have something else you were planning to do instead?”
“No, I mean, I guess we can. Uh…” He pulls out his phone and fidgets with it. I can tell by how quick he is to do this that he really wants to get with Angie. When the music starts up, I recognize it from when I’ve caught him practicing. He places it on the desk before saying, “Okay, let me figure out how to do this without making it awkward as hell. Sit on the bed.”
I plant my ass down on the edge.
“So this is a basic move…” He raises his arms, positioning them like there’s another person there, before showing me some basic steps as he counts out loud. Looks kind of ridiculous as he does it by himself. “That’s the thing we come back to every time, and then we can get more creative after that,” he explains. “Here, get up, and let’s try together. I’ll start off leading, and maybe we can switch out once you figure it out. I don’t know that it’s the best way to do it, but it’s the only way I know how.”
I laugh, pushing to my feet. “Show me what to do.”
“So this is, like, the basic move that we do in a circle, which will be kind of weird given the lack of space here, so we’ll have to get creative, but I’ll do the counting, and you’ll follow my lead.”
“You’re gonna be leading me?”
“Like I said, this is the only way I know how to do it.”
“Okay,” I concede.
He positions one of his hands on my lower back and takes the other in his hand. The only time we’ve ever been this close is when we’re getting onto each other. I notice how warm his hand is and the light scent of his cologne—cedar and citrus. It’s a nice fragrance that hits my nose just right.
“Now your other hand goes on my shoulder,” he says.
As I follow the instruction, he gulps, not making eye contact as he begins counting. I try to follow the movement, and he steps on my toe.
“You have to actually follow,” he says.
“Whoa, whoa, I’m the student. You can be patient with me.”
“You’re right, sorry. I’ll go slower. The way I learned it, don’t try to pay attention to my feet, but feel when I’m shifting my weight, and that’s how you’ll know which leg to step back with.”
“Okay…”
We start again, and Marty counts out loud. We fumble a bit to start, but gradually, as I start to realize what he’s doing, he gets a little less self-conscious, and we manage to make a complete circle.
As we continue, I can’t help but notice the way he’s counting, his gaze shifting around as he clearly stresses about his movements. It’s kind of adorable.
