Page 45 of Over Time Advantage

We all do it a few times while the band leader counts for us before smiling and nodding. “Excellent. Moving right along. Now we add the click-clicks. Simply click your heels together twice.” He shows us while saying, “Out, click, out, click.”

We all do it, and again he praises us. “Perfect. Now we get to the truly fun part.”

Oh shit.

“Right heel stomps forward twice. Heel, heel,” he shows us. “Then right toe, toe behind you.” Again, he shows us. “Heel, pop, heel, pop, heel, heel.” He shows us a whole intricate thing I’m confident I’ll never get, though everyone around me seems to do it perfectly, like they’ve been doing it their whole lives.

“Now we take it back and then to the side,” where he touches his right heel with his left hand behind him. “Now turn your body a quarter to the right and hit it with your right hand.” Again, he gives us a demonstration.

“Now we start the grapevine all over. Easy, right?”

Um, no. That whole last bit might as well have been in Chinese.

“Let’s put it all together. Five, six, seven, eight.” He runs through the whole thing at warp speed. I look like a buffoon while Jett looks like he just came off Broadway. For a big guy, he moves shockingly well. His hips even sway with it. Ooh, those hips.

Did it just get hot in here?

Jett stands behind me for the last run-through, his hands on my hips, guiding my movements. It’s intimate, bordering on erotic, and I’d be lying if I said having his big hands on my body wasn’t worth the humiliation I’ll likely suffer. So damn big.

The band leader announces that it’s showtime. Jett wraps his muscular arms around me from behind and kisses the top of my head. With his warm breath on my ear, eliciting shivers from my body, he whispers, “You’ve got this, angel face.”

I can smell just a small hint of his yummy aftershave, triggering a few memories from the night we met. It’s sandalwood, orange, and deeply masculine. He didn’t slather himself in it like so many other men. I find myself hoping some of it is left on my clothing.

The band begins playing the intro before giving us the cue to start our routine. I completely screw up the toe and heel shit the first time through, but after that, I start to get it. It’s not perfect, but I’m able to move in beat with the crowd of a hundred seemingly Juilliard-level dancers, including my date.

Jett smiles widely as he watches me get better with each pass. By the end, I’ve totally got it, and my grin matches his. This is so much fun. Screw fancy sit-down dinner dates at expensive restaurants. This is the most fun I’ve ever had on a first date. On any date.

When it’s over, he pulls me in for a hug. “You were amazing.”

“You’re not the only athlete here, Jett.” I make a muscle with my arm. “I’m small but mighty.”

He chuckles. “Yes, you are.”

He and the band leader exchange knowing glances again. This time, Jett nods.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Do you know him?”

He bites back a smile as he shakes his head. “Nope. I just got here a little early to have a chat with him. We came to a mutual…understanding.”

“What kind of⁠—”

Before I can finish that sentence, the band begins playing “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel, the well-known song from the money scene of the movie Say Anything, Diane and Lloyd’s movie.

“Wow,” I marvel, “you’re pretty smooth, Mr. Jeffries.”

The dimple makes an appearance. “I need to impress my girl.”

His girl.

He holds out his hand. “May I have this dance, angel face?”

I place my hand in his, and he pulls me into his muscular, inviting arms. My hands reach up for his broad shoulders while his grab for my hips and pull me close to his body. Heat rolls off him in waves, inviting me into his cocoon of deliciousness.

I should play it safe and rest my head on his chest, but I don’t. I look up at him as we stare into each other’s eyes. His gaze is penetrating. I can hear the music, but it’s now faded into the background, almost like I’m underwater. Dozens of couples are dancing all around us, but I only have eyes for him. He’s staring down at me like he’s looking into my soul. Like he wants to devour me.

“I dreamed of this moment,” he admits in a raspy voice. “When you were creating your profile with the name Diane Court, I saw us dancing to this song one day.”

I melt at his sweet admission as I lick my lips. I desperately want him to kiss me. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this attracted to a man in my life. Maybe it’s the months of watching videos of him. Maybe the months of talking to Lloyd. Maybe the sweet way he planned this date so carefully.