She looks at my hand like it might bite her. Then she drains the rest of her drink in one go and takes it.
The dance floor is packed, bodies pressed together, everyone moving to the bass that’s literally rattling my ribcage. I pull Juliette into a space near the edge where there’s slightly more room to breathe, though we’re still surrounded on all sides.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she says, and she sounds nervous.
“There’s no right way. Just move.” I put my hands on her waist, guiding her into the rhythm. “Feel the beat. Stop thinking so much.”
“I’m not?—”
“You’re absolutely thinking. I can see it all over your face.” I pull her closer. “Stop performing and just exist for like five minutes.”
She’s stiff at first, moving awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. But after a minute she starts to loosen up, her body remembering how to move without overthinking every step.
Her hips move more naturally. Her shoulders relax. She’s not thinking about the steps anymore and I can feel the exact moment she stops fighting it.
There we go. This version of Juliette—the one who’s not performing, not controlling everything—I want to memorize this. Her eyes are closed, head tipped back slightly, completely lost in the music. Shehas no idea three different guys are staring at her right now. I shift closer, making it clear she’s with me.
“See?” I say close to her ear. “You’re doing it.”
“This is stupid.”
“This is fun, JuJu. You can say ‘poodle’ anytime.”
The song shifts into something slower and Juliette’s body molds against mine without her seeming to realize it. My hands slide from her waist to her hips and she doesn’t pull away, just moves with me.
This is—fuck. This is dangerous. I’m forgetting we’re pretending.
I don’t even care.
She turns in my arms, back against my chest now, and I try to remember how to breathe like a normal human. Her hair is in my face, soft and smelling like that floral shampoo. Her body’s moving flush against mine and every functional part of my brain just shuts down.
“Rodriguez,” she says, and I can barely hear her over the music, but I feel her say my name.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For this. For making this bearable.”
“Anytime.”
She tips her head back against my shoulder, the curve of her neck right there, and we just move like that for a while. My hands stay on her hips, guiding her movements, and all I can think is that I could do this every night for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.
Two songs later,we head back to the VIP section. Juliette’s flushed, smiling, a thin sheen of sweat on her neck, and Garrett notices immediately.
He’s been watching us dance. I saw him. Every single time I looked up, he was staring.
Good. Let him watch what he gave up.
“Having fun?” Olivia asks, appearing with fresh drinks.
“Yeah, actually,” Juliette says, and she sounds surprised.
“Good! Because we’re just getting started!” Olivia hands us both shots. “To my big sister and her hot hockey player boyfriend!”
Everyone drinks. The alcohol’s starting to hit, I can feel it making everything slightly softer around the edges. My joints are loose and warm from that initial buzz.
Juliette’s leaning against me now, not performing it for anyone, just naturally gravitating into my space. Her arm brushes mine. Her shoulder presses against my side. Each point of contact feels deliberate even though I know it’s not.
Garrett’s jaw is tight. Melissa’s saying something to him but he’s not listening to her at all.
