Page 32 of Slapshot
His gaze goes beyond me and he’s got a ridiculously pleased grin. “Oh, he is.”
Giving in, I look. He struts across the bar in his jeans and boots. A man in a hoodie shouldn’t have that much confidence.
A couple of guys at a table in the middle of the bar stop him. Lex, charming as always, smiles and shakes hands.
“Looks like you’re about to lose your boy to a man,” the bartender says.
“He isn’t gay.”
“Me either, but as many times as you turned the poor guy down since you sat at my bar, might be enough to make him reconsider.” He nods his head. “He can’t dance, that’s for sure.”
He’s moved from the table and stands in front of the stage. From across the room, he stares back at me while he sways side to side. Every head turns between us waiting to see what I’ll do.
“Don’t leave him hanging, honey,” a burly guy in a trendy flannel shirt says. “Rainn, talk some sense into her.”
“If I had a boyfriend that looked like that, I’d dance with him anywhere he wanted. Grocery store, parking lots, naked in our bedroom.” Someone else adds. I don’t look. My eyes are still locked with Lex’s as he stubbornly holds his ground and moves his arms up to an imaginary person he’s slow dancing with. He’s ridiculous.
“He isn’t my boyfriend,” I insist.
“Song will be over soon,” the bartender who I now know is definitely Rainn, says. “Don’t miss your moment.”
Oh for the love of annoyingly charming hockey players. It must be in my DNA. Something Dad slipped in to make my life more difficult. More lessons on hard work and discipline. Both fail me as I get to my feet. I should leave him here. Walk out the door and let him continue to make a fool of himself.
When I get to him, he has a pleased smile on his foolish face.
“I’m not dancing with you.”
“You’re always saying you’re not going to do things. Isn’t it exhausting constantly pushing against the flow?”
Yes.
“Come on. It’s one dance. Less than that. The song is almost over.” He takes advantage of my silence and grabs my hand, tugs me to him and places both hands at my hips.
“Everyone is staring.” I can feel the weight of every eye in the place.
“Yeah, but they’re staring at me.”
I rest my hands on his shoulders. I’m pretty sure there’s applause around the bar as I give in and dance with Lex.
“See? Not so bad.” His fingers inch farther around my back, bringing me closer.
“You’re actually not a bad dancer.”
“A compliment at long last.”
“And already I regret it.”
“My mom taught me.” His brown eyes sparkle in the dim lighting. “Three very painful nights before my first middle school dance in our living room where she coached me through slow dancing to nineties love ballads.”
Laughter relaxes me under his touch. “I would have been glad to have danced with any boy in middle school who’d had a lesson or two.”
“I never got the courage to ask anyone. Not that night anyway.”
A self-conscious and timid Lex is hard for me to picture.
“You were probably in dance. Ballet? You’ve got one of those long necks and regal stares.”
“I have a long neck?”
