“Hi, Coach Wesley,” Addie chirps, clearly delighted.
“Y’all enjoying the dance?” he asks, the girls responding yes in unison, but his eyes haven’t left me. And something about the way he’s looking at me makes my skin feel too tight.
I remember our moment last night on the field.
It was sexy, seeing Nate coach the team. He was in control the entire time, even when they were down by several points.
He wasn’t freaking out.
He was focused.
Confident.
And after the game, when they won, and I saw him down on the field with his team and a bright smile on his face, I couldn’t stop myself from walking down to the field.
I had to see him.
“You look nice,” I say, trying to keep it light, even though my cheeks already feel warm.
He looks me up and down. “You clean up alright yourself.”
I scoff, even though I feel like squirming under his attention. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“‘Course it is,” He responds, still looking at me like I’m the only thing in the room worth noticing.
The DJ shifts to a ballad, and the lights dim, students pairingup with their dates on the dance floor. I turn back to face the girls, but they’ve left.
I’m not sure how long they’ve been gone.
Nate nods toward the dance floor. “You want to?”
“Want to what?”
“Dance.” He responds, like it’s obvious.
“Oh, I… Nate, I don’t dance.”
“Sure you do, everybody dances.”
“I don’t.” I cross my arms over my chest, looking down at the shiny gym floor. “I’m not good at it.”
“That’s okay,” He offers his hand, palm up. “I’ll show you.”
My heart is pounding so loud it’s drowning out the music while I scan the room, searching for some sort of excuse to get out of this. I find Layla still in the group of teachers, her hands waving around as she talks.
I point to her. “Layla was actually calling me over—”
“Seems like she’s good,” he gestures back over to her, where she’s giving us a thumbs up.
Thanks for nothing, Layla.
His fingers close around my clammy ones, warm and firm as he leads me onto the dance floor, through the couples and clusters of teenagers standing in groups, until we get to a space off to the side.
“Just follow my lead.”
Nate places one of his hands on my waist, holding mine in his other one, and pulls me close, while I cling to his muscular arm.
We move in a slow side-to-side motion, close enough that I can feel the heat of his body through the fabric of my satin dress.
