Page 26 of Scoring Zone
“You love it,” Lucky sings, and from Finn’s expression, he’s right.
I hand Austin a bottle of water, and we walk further into the living room adjacent to the kitchen.
“You know what we need? A dance party to get rid of our stress. And you know, the team that dances—”
A chorus from his teammates cuts Benz off. “—together, wins together.”
“Exactly.” Benz’s head bobs as he puts music on his phone that connects to Liska’s speakers.
“How did he do that?” Liska demands.
Trevor shrugs with an innocent smile. He’s not innocent at all.
“Since this is all for my benefit.” King, uncharacteristically, strides into the middle. “I have a request.”
“Shoot.” Benz turns the music down.
“We need to teach our captain some rhythm. He’s the whitest white boy when he dances.” King’s words are teasing, but Austin is frozen with a half-smile.
He’ll do anything for his teammates, but he doesn’t understand his lack of rhythm.
“Music is like skating,” King explains, but Austin can’t figure out if it’s a joke. “Your muscles move in time with the music. Like in warm-ups, you glide. And that’s a totally different motion from a burst off the line during a face-off. Find the beat of the music and bend your knees in time with it.” He bounces along with the music for Austin.
Trevor has Liska move the coffee table and push the couch back so the team has more room to dance.
Austin blushes bright red, and the team dances around him so he’s not like a zoo animal on display.
“See, you got it,” King encourages him. “Step side to side with the beat.” He faces Austin, clapping and keeping him moving with the song.
“Let’s teach him that TikTok dance Samba Whisk,” King hollers, and Benz changes the song. “Now we’ll add some hips.” He sways and rotates his hips when the next song comes on.
Austin loses his rhythm with jerky movements. “I can’t do that.” He shakes his head, but tries again with zest.
“Ain’t nothing holding you back.” He looks over Austin’s shoulder at me. “Put your hands on your boy’s hips to help.”
I obey immediately, not because I want to touch Austin. Nope. This is strictly about a dance lesson.
My fingers curl around his hips, and he lets me move him in sync with the music.
“C’mon now, you got it. Add the sidestep with your hips.” King waves his arms in the air, and Austin exhales with concentration.
His chest expands with a huge inhale, and he doesn’t let it out until I whisper in his ear. “Breathe.”
I blanket his back as if we’re in a club. I move to the music and guide him to follow along.
I can’t help myself. My chin eases onto his shoulder, and I keep one hand on his hip and the other splays across his chest. It’s a mistake because my dick wants in on the action as my hips press against his.
“You’re feelin’ it.” King takes his hands and moves his arms while I squash the part that wants to bat King away. “Gimme a backward step like this.” King shows him the movement, and I tap the leg I want him to move first. “Nice and easy. Chill movements at first,” he encourages.
Austin throws his head back on my shoulder, and we move like we did that night in Vegas. As if we already know what to do with each other. As if we’re made for each other.
He pushes his ass back against my erection, and he has all the rhythm of a professional dancer. I curse the team and our clothes and my vow of only friendship.
Suddenly, Austin jerks away, leaving me cold and exposed. He realizes what he’s done and grabs King around the waist to dance in the center of the guys, taking attention off of me.
“Thanks for teaching an old guy like me something new. How’d I do? Does this mean our locker room dance parties will lead to more success if I have rhythm?”
The guys chant his name in response.
