“Hey, I know how to dance,” Alix said with a cute swing of her hips.
“To a Dominican song praising G-strings?” Miriam countered.
“A what?” Alix laughed.
“Come on.” Grace grasped Alix’s wrist. “At least it’s too loud in there for talking.”
At the center of the press of people dancing, Grace’s great-uncle was showing off his new knees by swinging one of her second cousins to the frenetic rhythm of a song that was, in fact, about a G-string. A red one.
Sneaking into a corner, they were as out of the way as they were going to get. Grace hadn’t danced since she was a kid, but she tried to let go and follow the rhythm.
“It’s basically taking a step with every beat.” Grace rested one hand on Alix’s shoulder and took her free hand with the other.
With confidence that made the room several degrees warmer, Alix gripped Grace’s hip like they’d done this a thousand times before. It only took her a few seconds to match the fast-tempo dancing around them.
Grace bit her bottom lip, but she couldn’t tamp down the grin on her face.
Apparently misinterpreting Grace’s expression, Alix furrowed her brow. A hard flush flooded her face, and Alix stopped dancing. “Oh, God. I look like an idiot?—”
“No!” Grace pulled her in close to get her dancing again. “I just didn’t expect you to find the rhythm so fast.” She couldn’t stop smiling. It was an involuntary reaction springing from some previously undiscovered well. “I’m impressed.”
“It’s the brownies,” Alix whispered conspiratorially. “I feel like all of my connective tissue has dissolved, making me loose enough to dance for, like, the first time in my life.”
Grace laughed and gripped her hand tighter. Eyes fixed on Alix, everything else dropped away. They were completely alonein the crowded room when Grace said, “Now I’m not going to take it easy on you.”
Dimples on display, Alix laughed and started dancing again. “Never take it easy on me,” she said with a flirtatious edge that made Grace’s stomach flutter.
From merengue to salsa to bachata, Alix caught on fast no matter what. Sweating in the crush of half her family creating enough body heat to power a small village, she taught Alix the few turns she knew. And then the music changed to a ballad good only for slow swaying.
Instead of taking a break like Grace expected, Alix stepped into the space between them until there was none left. Her lopsided smile triggered a new kind of pounding in Grace’s body.
“Are you going to teach me how to dance this one?” Alix’s hands migrated to the small of Grace’s back. Her fingers splayed out like she was trying to touch as much of her as possible.
Saying yes was dangerous. Grace was already teetering on the edge of a mistake. Already perilously close to letting herself have a crush. But the heat of Alix’s palm burning through the thin fabric of her dress made it so hard to care about the consequences. Made them seem so distant and unimportant.
Alix leaned in again, whispering in Grace’s ear. “I don’t know about you, but being touched in any way is just ten times better when you’re high, don’t you think?”
Grace shivered in response and saw Alix’s grin widen.
“See? Okay. Now show me how to dance to this one.”
“You don’t know how to slow dance?” Grace’s challenge was half-hearted and defeated by her hands finding the back of Alix’s damp neck. It took every ounce of self-control not to run her fingers through her hair. To scrape her nails against her scalp. It was just the marijuana, she told herself.
“Not in Spanish,” she offered with a wink when she started to sway to Luis Miguel’s silken singing.
Grace laughed, drunk on the sensation of Alix’s arms around her. “Is there a difference?”
“Obviously.” Alix’s eyes were so bright, it was hard to look up at them without losing herself. If only looking away was an option, but Grace had never felt more helpless in her life. She was caught in the bronze streaks of Alix’s brown eyes. In her dark lashes. In the sunrise pink flushing her skin.
And then Alix stepped forward at the same time Grace did, slotting her thigh between hers for half a beat. It was barely a passing glance, but Grace felt the rush of heat like a dormant volcano rumbling to life.
Grace’s fingers tightened at the base of Alix’s neck. She struggled to stay connected to her rational mind. The one screaming about boundaries and friendship and standing in her mother’s living room. But all she could think about was the expression Alix would make if Grace dragged her nails over her scalp.
Alix stopped moving, and Grace was so sure she saw the restraint in her too. That her grip on Grace had gotten a little tighter, like she also wished they weren’t standing in a room full of family. Like she wished they’d met under different circumstances.
But then the music changed, and Alix loosened her grip. It was all Grace could do not to pull her back in, but there was no reason to stand so close during the fucking Macarena.
“Friends, my ass.” Grace heard Miriam mutter, and she wasn’t sure she had the nerve to disagree.
