Darling, Dance with Me

by Aisling Magic

  Candee glances in my direction a few times, and each time she has a mild, sad smile on her face. Five minutes later, Remi signals the end of the class, and we break apart. “Thanks for helping me today,” I tell Nicholas.

  “You’re welcome. You’re doing pretty good,” he compliments, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ears and giving me a small smile before walking away. The joy I’m feeling inside surfaces on my face. I like him. He’s nice.

  “He’s a fartsicle,” Candee grumbles as she joins me. “Why didn’t he choose me?” she asks, her voice whiny.

  I shrug. “Maybe because he saw Remi and me having an argument the other day and didn’t want things to get awkward?” I provide, half believing it. Or he saw the lustful stares Candee has been giving him—this little thought I keep to myself.

  We slip back into our sneakers, and I sling my backpack over my shoulder. As we walk to the exit, the skin at the back of my neck tickles. My shoulders tense, and for no reason, I turn around to find Remi’s gaze on me. A part of me is captivated by his amber eyes. Just as I reach the door, I catch his lips lifting at one corner in a cocky smile.

  #OMG

  FIVE

  #HeCalledMeDarling

  “I’m not going to let you die, I promise.”

  “Stop talking to your belly.”

  Candee gasps. “But my tummy is hungry. You’re killing her, Kaci,” she whines, rubbing her belly.

  We came to school early today, and since we’re going grocery shopping afterward, we skipped breakfast, and now I’m seeing the errors in my actions. I shake my head, looking heavenwards. “Just let me finish this,” I say, filling out the form faster. “There,” I give the form to the woman in administration. Then, I take a bottle of water from my backpack and hand it to Candee. “Drink this.”

  She shakes her head, and her lips start wobbling. “This Oliver Twist needs food. Pleaaaase …” she cries, her voice pleading. I make a mental note that Candee’s an even greater pain in the ass when she’s famished.

  “Ugh.” I shove the bottle back in the bag and zip it. Candee grabs my hand and pulls me out of there. “Slow down, or we’ll mow somebody over,” I quip, but she doesn’t slow her pace. In less than a minute, we’re walking into a coffee shop. The smell that greets us makes my stomach groan.

  “This is what heaven will smell like,” she comments as we sit.

  “I agree. Have you been here?” I ask.

  She nods. “Once, the day I arrived here. And after today, I promise you’ll want to come again,” she singsongs.

  If the food at this place is half as good as it smells, I’ll definitely come again. “Now, you’re making me hungrier,” I say, grabbing my phone as a message drops in. It’s from Ryan. He’s been sending me messages every day, but I’ve deleted every single one of them. I roll my neck, getting rid of the tension there, and delete this one as well.

  “Do you know how we say tits in Italian?” Candee asks, and I have no idea how we jumped to this topic.

  I shake my head.

  “It’s called tette. Guess now I’ll be saying, calm your tette, bitches—in an Italian accent.”

  I suck in my cheeks. This girl has a natural talent for swear words. “I never want to hear you say tette ever again.”

  “C’mon. Tette is more fun than tits,” Candee says, looking at the waiter behind me.

  “Hey …”

  I recognize this voice.

  My heart knocks with my ribs.

  My body sits straight.

  #HotGuyAlert

  I look up, and there he is, standing right next to me with a raised eyebrow and those ambers trying to reach my soul. “Damn ...”

  His lips tug at one corner, and I realize I said that aloud. My eyes squeeze themselves shut. Dammit, this is getting worse. I open up one eye to see Remi trying to control his laughter.

  “Hi, Remi,” Candee chirps, and I open both eyes, giving her my attention.

  “Hi, Candee. I’m glad at least someone’s happy to see me,” he comments.

  Wait a second. Candee has been here before, which means she knew Remi works here.

  “Oh, believe me, she is. Um, is your friend here? The blond one?” she asks, and I kick her shins beneath the table. “Ouch. Don’t do that,” she chides, rubbing the spot I hit her.

  “Nicholas?”

  “Yes. Nicholas.”

  I shake my head at her brassiness as Remi suppresses a grin. “No. He doesn’t work here.”

  “Where does he work?”

  Goodness!

  This time Remi chuckles. “He works at Garner’s, the automobile repair shop.”

  “Oh.” Her eyebrows draw together in deep concentration, and I have no doubt she’s thinking about how to go to that repair shop.

  “And what can I get you?” Remi asks, looking at me.

  “Um, what’s good here?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Depends on the person.”

  “I’m asking you. What do you like?”

  And just like that, he stares at me for a few seconds. “Maybe the chicken sandwich. They’re nice,” he says, rubbing his thumb over his eyebrow. “So?”

  I narrow my eyes. “I’ll take a grilled cheese sandwich and an espresso.” I turn toward Candee. “Candee?”

  “The same,” she mutters.

  He takes our order and leaves.

  “You knew he worked here?” I accuse as soon as Remi’s out of earshot.

  Candee shrugs. “I already told you, he could be your rebound. But that’s not the point. The point is I am hungry, and last time I was here, they served great food.”

  “Yeah, right. That’s why you ordered something great? And I don’t want a rebound.”

  “My mind was elsewhere,” she admits.

  “Anywhere near Garner’s?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Tell me what you’re planning—and don’t say nothing,” I warn, giving her the stink eye.

  “When was the last time your car broke down?”

  “What?” Is she freaking serious?

  She has the audacity to look indifferent. “You asked what I was thinking, and I told you.” She shrugs.

  “Don’t even think about doing anything to my car,” I exclaim. This is our only mode of transport, and I’d go crazy if my car broke down.

  “I was going to ask your permission before I did anything to your car,” she explains, and I calm my racing heart.

  “Thank you,” I reply, my voice laced with sarcasm.

  A few minutes later, Remi comes up with our order. “Bon appetite.”

  “Thanks,” we say in unison, and he leaves us with our meal.

  Candee grabs the sandwich and stuffs it in her mouth. “Mmmmm,” she moans with closed eyes, drawing attention to our table. “Hiss iss hukhing gooomm,” she praises with her mouth full, which I’m guessing means “this is fucking good.”

  Her enthusiasm makes me take a big bite too, and I suppress a moan. This is seriously good. We finish the sandwiches in record time.

  After a long burp, Candee announces, “I need to use the bathroom.” She hops from her chair and leaves the table. In the meanwhile, I take my phone out to see there’s a message from Paula.

  Paula: Kaci, please. Let me explain.

  A sudden ache hits my chest. Being away from Paula and Ryan has made me realize that I miss Paula more than I miss Ryan. Maybe all the pain I’m feeling is because I lost a good friend. Ryan and I were not that serious—he wasn’t the one. But Paula and I were friends—best friends. She was there whenever I was down. A shoulder to cry on.

  “Hey …”

  I suck in a breath, looking up to see a blurry Remi. “Hey …” I use my fingers to wipe the wetness beneath my lashes.

  He’s seated in Candee’s place, staring at me with frowned eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Boyfriend?” he asks, pointing at my phone.

  I shake my head. “Ex …”
<
br />   “Ex or you’re just fighting?”

  “Ex. He cheated on me.”

  His brows furrow. “Was he blind?”

  I chuckle and shake my head. “He wasn’t.”

  “Seems blind to me,” he comments. For some stupid reason, my heart flutters, and I can only stare at him.

  “Maybe Ryan found my best friend nicer,” I reply, applying a brake to the flutters.

  He gets back to frowning. “Jackass’s name is Ryan?” He rubs his brows. “And he cheated on you with your best friend?”

  I nod.

  “Wow,” he whispers. “He sounds like a douchebag to me.”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that,” I add, feeling the need to defend him. “Ryan and I were breaking up anyway because we were going to different colleges, and we didn’t really think a long-distance relationship was going to work. But then, I saw him kissing my best friend,” I answer, my shoulders slouching. “I’m not sure I can call it cheating when we were planning to break up anyway, but the fact that he was with my best friend hurts,” I admit, biting my quivering bottom lip.

  “You’re right, that’s a little more complicated, but he still sounds like a douche to me.” He shrugs.

  And the fluttering is back.

  I want to ask him if he has a girlfriend, but it would make me sound like I’m looking for a rebound, and I don’t want that. “Are you not working?” I ask instead.

  He shakes his head left and right. “I’m on a break.”

  His gaze drops to my lips as my mouth forms an “O.” Fully aware of where he’s looking, I slowly relax my lips. Heat gathers at my cheeks, and I keep waiting for his gaze to move back up, but they don’t. My lips feel dry. And are getting drier by the second.

  Don’t lick your lips.

  The spot behind my jaw starts to ache. His lips part, causing water to gather in my mouth, and my tongue darts out, just enough to touch my bottom lip. Remi’s eyes darken. The ache behind my jaw intensifies. I lick my lips, his gaze following the path my tongue is covering, and I swallow noisily.

  Remi’s gaze hits mine, and his chest releases air slowly. It’s at this moment that I realize how fast my heart is beating. How hot I feel, and how strongly I’m pressing my thighs together. What the hell just happened? In Candee’s words—for dingleberry’s sake, he was just staring at my lips. And I was turned on.

  I was freaking turned on.

  Remi clears his throat. He looks away with his fist covering his mouth, and then he looks back at me, clearly surprised by what just happened. We give each other an awkward smile. “Um, you did nice the other day,” he praises, trying to break the tension.

  A smile grazes my lips. “Thanks.”

  “So.” Elbows on the table, he leans on them and asks, “You still don’t like dancing?”

  And I shrug. “It wasn’t bad.”

  #MyNoseIsGrowing

  He chuckles, shaking his head. Placing his hands on the table, he leans closer, and I notice all the muscles flexing and vein designs on his arms. “We’ve got eight more weeks to go, darling. You better brace yourself.” He winks and leaves.

  #HeCalledMeDarling

  #IDied

  SIX

  #MyCarBrokeDown

  My car broke down.

  I stomp back to the dorm and scream at a sleeping Candee, “YOU BROKE MY CAR?”

  Candee jolts. Her hair is glued with drool on half her face, and the rest is covered in red marks. She sits up, her wide eyes focusing on me. “What?” she whispers, her face still in shock.

  “My car,” I growl, fixing my accusing glare on her.

  She takes a few seconds to process my words, and then the smile that appears on her face could beat the sun in terms of brightness.

  “Your car?” she asks in disbelief, her voice hoarse.

  I roll my eyes, wishing I’d learned more swear words from Candee by now.

  She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Please tell me it’s broken enough so that we can take it to Garner’s,” she pleads, hope shining in her eyes.

  Broken enough? Did she just say that? Shaking my shock away, I scowl. “Did you do it?”

  Her smile subdues. “Me? I’ll never do that to you,” she exclaims. Her eyes are wide, and she looks a little hurt by my accusation.

  “Damn,” I mutter and sit down on the bed. I spent this month’s money on the dance classes, and now I’ll have to ask Dad for more money.

  “I have Garner’s number if you’ll need it,” Candee provides, and my anger dissipates. My lips twist, and I turn toward Candee to see she’s smiling too.

  Candee was right, I guess. It can’t be just coincidence for her to meet Nicholas at the store, then the dance class, and now the broken car. Maybe it’s fate disguised as a matchmaker.

  “Where did you get that number, Candee dearest?”

  “I googled Garner’s.” She shrugs, and her smile turns sheepish.

  I burst out laughing. “Yeah, I need the number now.”

  “Um, if you don’t mind, can I get towed with the car too? I’d like to see if they’ll repair the car well or not.” A Cheshire smile appears on her face. “Just being a good friend.”

  I chuckle. “I can see that. But, yeah, you can.”

  She squeals and grabs my hand again. “Can I borrow your clothes too?”

  I shake my head and get up from the bed, removing my hand from her grasp. “Brush your teeth.” I look at her in the mirror, and we’re both smiling over my broken car.

  ***

  The cab stops outside the studio.

  “I’m so pissed right now,” Candee mutters, and I roll my eyes for the fiftieth time today. “I don’t think I’ll be able to look at him without kicking his balls.”

  We walk toward the entrance. “Maybe he’s not interested, Candee.”

  When Candee came back from Garner’s today, her face held a murderous look. After some careful questioning, I learned that Nicholas didn’t even look at her when she went to deliver the car. She tried to talk to him, but he replied in curt and short answers, which pissed her off.

  She huffs, refusing to believe that Nicholas is not into her. “He’s just so oblivious. It’s annoying.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Candee.”

  “He’s not even that attractive.”

  I chuckle.

  She groans as we walk inside. “I’ll be back,” Candee says and walks away, leaving me partner-less.

  I stand in the same spot, feeling awkward when an older woman approaches me. “Hi,” she greets. “I’m Agatha.”

  “Kaci.” We shake hands.

  She points at a bald man wearing a gray suit. He’s using his hands a lot to explain things, but I can’t see him actually speaking. “That’s my husband, Anthony. He can’t speak,” she clarifies, and my gaze swings back to her.

  “Oh …” I have no idea what to say to her, so I just bite my lips, trying to find something to tell her.

  “We interacted with some of the people here last week, but you and your friend left early, so I wanted to introduce myself.”

  “That’s nice. My friend’s name is Candee.” I look around, but there’s no sign of her. “She must be somewhere,” I mutter, looking to see if Nicholas is around. He’s not. Oh-oh.

  “Hello, sexy,” Remi drawls, and my heart kabooms.

  I turn around with wide eyes and stare at him. Sexy. He called me sexy! OMG! My lungs expand to force the intake of air.

  “Hello, handsome,” Agatha greets.

  I cringe and deflate. He was talking to her, not me. Idiot. My cheeks heat.

  “Hi, Kaci.”

  “Hi.”

  “I see that you made it today,” he comments, looking at my T-shirt.

  I pinch my lips together to suppress a smile. Today, I’m wearing a white T-shirt with “Killin’ it” written in pink. His lips spread into a wonderful smile, and my heart sighs. He has a beautiful smile.

  “Please excuse me. Anthony is calling m
e,” Agatha says, eyeing Remi and me before leaving.

  “See. I told you we wouldn’t be late,” an older lady enters the hall along with a handsome young guy. I don’t remember seeing them last week.

  I turn my attention back to Remi. “They’re dance partners?”

  “Yeah. Mrs. Nickman and her neighbor, Jeremy.”

  I raise my eyebrows and look at the couple again. The grandma-looking Mrs. Nickman slaps Jeremy on his arm, and the latter laughs, placing a hand around her shoulders and walking her to the seats.

  “You’ve got some interesting students here.” I scan the room and settle my gaze back on Remi.

  “It’s not just a class. It’s saving a marriage, forming a new friendship, living their last days.” His intense eyes burn into me. “Mrs. Nickman’s husband was an alcoholic and abused her for years. Last year, he died after suffering from cancer. Jeremy enrolled himself and Mrs. Nickman because she deserves to have fun after a lifetime of misery.”

  He scans the class until his gaze rests on a second couple. “Agatha and Anthony have been married for thirty-five years. They have four children, but none of them visit. Anthony has been suffering from throat cancer for the last three years, and they don’t know how much time they have left, so dancing is just a pinch of sweetness in a sea of sorrows.”

  Dullness overwhelms my heart as I continue to look at the couple. Agatha whispers something in Anthony’s ear. His eyes widen, and he turns his smile toward his wife. Agatha’s grin turns wicked, and she raises an eyebrow at her husband before bursting out laughing.

  Remi nods toward a man who is missing his left arm and standing next to a beautiful woman. “That’s Lionel and Sarah. Sarah’s husband was an army officer. Sarah was his nurse. They fell in love and married last year.”

  I allow myself to smile, my gaze lingering on the couple a little longer.

  “But then,” Remi continues, “Sarah’s husband got killed in an attack.”

  “What?” My head whips to Remi. “Then who …”

  “Lionel is the friend who brought the news home.”

  We stay quiet for a few seconds, looking at Sarah and Lionel. Now that I know the story, I catch the faint wrinkles around Sarah’s eyes, the sadness in her smile, and the dry mist in her eyes. A few weeks ago, I thought what happened to me was horrible, but now, hearing these stories, I realize what happened to me was just a glimpse of heartache.