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Presley stands and they do that bro shoulder thing, where they clasp hands and hug. “Had to get my head straight.”
“Looks wonky as fuck to me,” I mutter and Carter shoots me an imploring look.
“Sour because your uncle doesn’t feed you his dick anymore?” Presley retorts, face holding that familiar scowl.
“It’s all good, I get my kicks outta watching your dad feed you his.”
His incredibly blueish-gray eyes darken. “How was Louisiana Institution? Heard they have some decent rooms. Bars on the windows and everything.”
“Can you both stop?” Carter pleads. “Can we just fucking dance?”
I shrug and take my space with Carter who winks at me when I get close enough. Hammond walks in and after a brief hello he starts the music and we begin.
Carter and I have practiced this dance so much that we have it nailed. I’m giddy from how well it’s going. Even though I knew it would. We just get each other’s bodies; we know how to work each other. I can follow his movements with my eyes and know where he’s leading me.
Not to mention the fact every brush of his body against my own sets me on fire.
“And where the fuck do I come into this two-person fuck sesh?” Presley asks bitterly.
“When I take her to the ground and she slides away from under me, we thought you could pull her out and we could go from there. The routine isn’t set in stone, we can manipulate it so it’s like we are fighting for her affections. It’ll be hot as hell.”
Hammond nods his agreement. “He’s right, it’ll be like telling a story through dance, a sexy story.”
“Except I don’t find her sexy. I can’t stand her.”
“Then make it so you’re pushing her out of the group. I don’t fucking know. Change it, contribute to it, figure it out. So long as it tells a story, a good one.”
I roll my shoulders and take my starting position again.
Suddenly dance class feels less fun than it did. Before it was all about trying to get casual touches in with Carter because it’s exciting. Now Carter is hardly acknowledging me at all and I’m being forced to touch a boy who I don’t like one bit.
Whatever. I don’t need this drama. I just need to concentrate on my dance which is now being torn apart by Presley fucking Myers.
After half an hour of his suggestions I take a break, only to be yanked back by Carter as the dance requires, pulled away from him by Presley and tossed onto the mat like I’m weightless. I hit it hard after a stumble and a roll. I wasn’t expecting it at all.
“YES!” Hammond cries like I wasn’t just thrown away like a used toy.
I glare at Presley who is smiling with a smug grin. The bastard.
“Now if you can just land a bit more gracefully, Scandal.” Hammond is acting like I knew that was going to fucking happen. I am livid.
“Maybe if I had warning,” I snap, glaring at Presley.
He doesn’t respond at all and I decide now that I don’t just dislike him, I hate him, despite his shit life. Why should I care about his when he doesn’t give a fuck about mine?
“I’m going for a break,” I snarl and stomp away.
“Scan,” Carter calls after me but I tell him not to follow me with a look over my shoulder.
“Scan? Since when did you two become friends?”
“I’m just trying to get to college, Pres.”
I stop drinking my water bottle and look at Carter. Regret flashes in his eyes but the damage is done. I knew that’s what he wanted really. I’m so fucking naïve. And even if that’s not what he wants, he’s a pussy and I don’t like people who don’t have a spine.
“Can we practice lifts now?” Presley asks and I know that he’s really wanting just another excuse to throw me around again.
I pick up my bag and go to leave.
Hammond shouts, “Where are you going?”
“I can’t dance with somebody I don’t fucking trust and Presley is going to break my neck and get away with it.” I look at them all. “Dance is all I have. I’m not risking it. I’m not dancing with him. I’ll dance with Carter, but not him. I’m done.”
“Wait,” Carter begs, catching up to me. “What the fuck, Scandal? You can’t just walk out on me.”
“You didn’t have my back in there. You told me to trust you, I did, now I don’t.”
“I told you—”
“Don’t care. Not my problem.”
“Scandal Oaks,” Hammond snaps, sounding loud and irritated. “You get back here right now.”
“As soon as you put the dickhead in the trash bag of shit dancers where he belongs.”
“Fuck you, Newman! We both know I could dance circles around you.”
I laugh cruelly. “And that’s why you need me for any chance at winning?”
