Page 14 of Becoming Cinderella

“Are you ready to get started?”

He walks over to the corner where he sat last time and sets the bottle down before he takes off his hat, running his hand through his hair. “Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

“You haven’t even seen my dance abilities yet. How do you know I’m any good?”

He gives me a one shoulder shrug walking towards me. “I’m desperate.”

I clutch at my heart. “Ah, words every girl dreams of hearing. Now, do you have that video of the dance?”

Liam pulls up a video on his phone and hands it to me. He stands next to me and I’m aware of every small movement he makes that it’s hard to focus because I’m so hyperaware.

I watch it through three times, trying to commit as much as I can to memory. The dance is filled with a lot of spins, but before we start doing the choreographed part, I need to make sure Liam has the basics down.

I grab Liam’s hand, pulling him to the center of the dance floor. “We need to start with the box step.” I guide his right hand to my shoulder blade before grabbing his left hand with my right one. Tingles shoot up through my body but I ignore it, well try to ignore it, especially when I put my left hand on his toned bicep. He has clearly never missed arm day at the gym.

“You’re the frame, okay? You need to keep your arms tight. Absolutely no noodle arms.” I wiggle his left arm to prove my point. “The frame is important, because it helps you lead your dance partner. You’re going to lead with your right hand, the one on my back, by applying some pressure. Also, by tension in your hand that’s holding mine, okay?” He’s staring at me, his face expressionless. “Am I going too fast?”

“More like you’re speaking a foreign language.”

I try not to smile. “Alright, we’ll take it from the beginning.” I show him the basic box step and we do it a couple times, him mumbling the slow, quick, quick, as he steps until it seems like he has it down. I move in front of him, putting him in his frame position. “Ready for a partner?”

He moves forward and steps on my foot. “Sorry! I’m sorry.”

I reach for his hands. “It’s okay, just remember you have to lead. As your partner I need to know where you’re intending to go. Let’s try again.”

He grabs my hand, barely touching my back but holding my right hand tightly. Not that I’m complaining about him holding it tightly, but from a waltz standpoint, his pressure is all wrong. I’ll bring that up later though. He looks down at our feet as he goes through the motions of the box step. He’s more so stomping as he focuses on the steps and not stepping on my feet. His light brown hair is flopping on his forehead with his attention on the floor. I pull my hand from his and lift his chin up.

“Try it without watching your feet.”

He sighs and drops my hand. “I’m sorry Carter, I told you I wasn’t any good.” He runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in different directions.

“You want to take a break?”

He nods and goes over to his water bottle, plopping down next to it. He watches me as I take a drink from my own water bottle. I’m about to ask him what’s on his mind when he speaks first. “So tell me, what makes Carter Adams, Carter Adams?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, what’s your story?”

I walk towards him, sitting across from him on the floor. “You don’t want that whole boring biography.”

He leans towards me, his arms resting on his knees. “Trust me, I do. Think about it this way, the more I know about you, the better I’ll be at getting Jacob to fall in love with you.”

“Jared.” But I smile. Based on the glint in his eyes, I’m pretty sure he said the wrong name on purpose. “Only if you give me something in return. A fact for a fact?”

“I’m sure everything there is to know about me can be found online.”

I stare at him. He’s right. But the thought of discovering something new makes me excited. He must take my stare as a challenge though.

“Fine. You first.”

“Hmm, okay.” I sit back, pressing my palms to the floor. “My favorite color is green.” The shade of Jared’s eyes to be specific, but I leave that detail out.

Liam turns his nose up. “I was thinking something a little more interesting. Let’s say you were on death row. What would your last meal be?”

I don’t even think about it. “Movie theater popcorn and a Dr. Pepper.”

“What? Popcorn and a Dr. Pepper?” He asks around a burst of laughter.

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