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Presley stares at me, hatred mirroring back at me and I could not give a fuck.
“Get over yourself, Presley.”
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Carter yells gripping his head with both hands. He’s so fucking angry right now. “What the fuck, guys? You’re both insane. Absolutely insane.”
He walks over to Hammond and starts whisper-hissing. When I go to leave, he points at me. “Don’t fucking move.”
I freeze in place and resist the urge to punch Presley who smirks at me.
“Do you have the keys?” Carter asks quietly. It’s the only part of their conversation that I hear.
They both start to run like their life depends on it.
“What the hell?” I question quietly as they race for the doors, push through them and slam them shut behind them.
Presley collides with the closed door and starts pushing on the bar. “OPEN THE DOOR NOW.”
“They did not,” I breathe, gaping when the lock on the door clicks.
“Fire escape,” Presley hisses and we both run for the door that leads directly outside. We shove at each other in a bid to reach it first, slapping at each other’s hands, delaying our approach.
Just as we reach it we hear a scraping sound on the other side and laughter with it.
“You absolute idiots,” Presley yells, managing to open it a fraction of an inch.
“Sorry, guys, but here’s the deal,” Carter calls through the crack. “You two aren’t leaving that room until you’ve choreographed a dance.”
“Are you shitting me right now?” I ask, laughing humorlessly. “I have other classes.”
“You better be quick, then,” Hammond comments, laughing like this is hilarious. “Good idea, Carter.”
“You’re both pricks.”
I look at Presley who slides down the door until he’s sitting with his hands over his knees. “I’m not dancing with you.”
I roll my eyes but don’t reply. Instead I go to the speaker, put on some music and dance by myself, practicing spins and moves in the mirror.
I’m having fun, even if he’s not. I’ve never had a full dance studio to myself before.
“You’re so heavy footed,” he comments, playing on his phone.
I ignore him and keep going, spinning and spinning faster and faster. I drop into a perfect split and give him my middle finger.
His cold eyes roll back to his phone.
“I thought you said you could dance circles around me?” I taunt, still practicing moves to the tempo of the music. I’m slightly breathless as is expected.
“I can.”
“Prove it.”
“Don’t need to prove shit to you.”
Sighing, I continue what I’m doing, annoyed that I’m being punished for his shit attitude. “Fine. Will you at least show me how you do a monkey flip? I can never get the arm right.”
I’m surprised when he stands, at first I think he’s actually going to help me, but then he starts banging on the door again and shouting for them to let him out.
“You’re such a whiny bitch,” I bark. “Just come here, let’s work on a shit routine to get them to let us go. Okay?”
Seeming to see reason, he drops his phone on the mat and gives me another sneer. “Fine. Let’s practice the lifts.”
“Yeah, right, so you can drop me on my head. Do I look stupid?”
“Depends on who you’re asking.”
What an absolute twatwaffle.
I skip the music and we finally start working on something side by side, it doesn’t tie in with the dance we already have but at least we’re doing something.
Hammond and Carter let us out an hour later.
“I want to try the lift from Dirty Dancing,” I declare excitedly, looking at Carter as I shake my limbs. “Think you can handle it?”
“I can handle a lot of things from Dirty Dancing.”
I throw my sweat rag at his head and get ready to run at him. “You ready?”
“Let me get away from the wall,” he says with a chuckle and moves to the middle of the mat.
I run, my legs let me soar towards him, his smile doesn’t vanish, even as he grabs my hips as I jump, doesn’t lift high enough and my stomach collides with his face as my legs go around him.
We fall into a laughing heap on the mat, untangling from each other after a moment of hilarity.
“Fail,” I comment playfully and squeal with glee when he rolls me onto my back. “I thought we said you weren’t going to do this anymore.”
His hand grabs mine and pins it above my head, then the other does the same until we’re resting forearm to forearm, fingers interlaced.
“I told you I was sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it, I just panicked.”
His breathing is slightly choppy from the exertion.
I stare up into his face, bending my legs slightly around his hips. His sparkling brown eyes darken with arousal and I feel him thicken against my groin.
I don’t know how this happened between us.
An hour ago I was with Alice and Asher at Bowler Mania trying to convince Melvin to give Asher another chance. Carter showed up and begged me to practice with him and Alice convinced me to go. Presley looked grumpy that his friend was leaving him for me, but Carter surprisingly had my back at last.
