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I should probably probe and cajole the truth out of her. Is that what a good boyfriend would do?
But that’s not my style.
So I deal with this the only way I know how.
Slapping all the books shut, I grab her bag and stand.
“What are you doing?” She looks up at me, and I can’t tell if she’s annoyed or confused.
I grin down at her to hide my doubts. “We’re gonna put a smile on that face of yours.”
“What?” She kind of laughs the word as I pull her out of her seat. “Where are we going?”
“I’m not sure yet. Give me a second to come up with something I know you’ll like.”
It makes me realize how little I know about her. Most of our times together have been of the sexy variety, but we sometimes talk after, and when I reach the sliding glass doors, I remember one thing.
Ugh.
But it’ll make her smile, so I’ll do it.
As I unlock my car and open the door for her—go me, gentleman of the fucking year—I get hit with the realization that I don’t care how much I’m about to embarrass myself. If it makes her laugh and smile… if it makes those sad blue eyes sparkle… then I’ll do it a hundred times over.
Seriously, I have no idea what is happening to me.
She must have some kind of super mind power magic going on, because this chick is winning me over. She’s making me do shit I’ve never done before.
Shit like walking her into Hockey House, turning on the TV, and loading up Just Dance on my PlayStation.
Yes, I bought it on a whim last week. There was instant regret involved, but I didn’t delete it, did I? I didn’t ask for any kind of refund… and now I know why.
Because I need to put a smile on my girlfriend’s face, and I’m pretty sure this is how I’m gonna do it.
“Let’s do this thing, lady.” I push up my sleeves and move the coffee table to the edge of the room.
She laughs and shakes her head. I’m still not sure if she really wants to do this, but she steps into the center of the room and takes over the controller, selecting some pop song and then getting ready to start.
“Dynamite” by BTS begins, and her hips move in time with the dancer on the screen. She punches her arms and flicks her feet, and I stop for a second, unable to move as I watch her.
She’s so fucking beautiful that it hurts to breathe sometimes.
That smile I love so much is tugging at her lips, her blue eyes starting to sparkle.
“Come on.” She tips her head at me. “I’m not putting on a private show for you. You have to dance too.”
“A private show sounds good.” I wiggle my eyebrows, checking out her luscious tits. The V-neck of her sweater is showing off a bit of cleavage, and I’m suddenly having images of poking my tongue into that crevasse and licking?—
“Just get over here.” She points to the ground, and I jolt out of my fantasy, doing as I’m told.
Hitching up my jeans, I get into position, and she resets the song so I can play the worst round of Just Dance that has ever been played. I am fucking useless.
Caroline is doing her thing, looking molten-lava hot as she sways her hips and moves her feet in time with the music. I’m stumbling all over myself. By the end of our second song, she’s in hysterics watching me desecrate this dance floor with my terrible moves.
“More dancing, less laughing,” I bark at her.
“I can’t help it,” she giggles, laughing so hard that she can’t even do her own moves anymore.
I’m seconds away from calling it quits when the door bursts open and Asher, Riley, and Connor swan in.
