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“Dance-dance-dance!” Tito shouts, sliding back into the living room and to the center of the room in slick disco moves.
He’s a spectacular dancer, confident and magnetic.
I run to my room and come back with a furry scarf, pink heart glasses, a yellow hat. We share the props and do selfies and laugh and throw back another round of shots.
Jace wrinkles his nose afterward and exhales loudly like he’s exhausted.
“I’m not kidding you,” Tito shouts, noticing. “Her hand is crazy. Trust me, tomorrow you’ll be questioning everything that happened tonight.”
It’s a promise, I hope.
Jace meets my eyes, and I wink at him.
26
LU
Three hours later,it’s dark, and we are wasted.
The blanket of Manhattan lights shimmers under the opaque dark sky, and I realize it’s the best little party I’ve had in this place. I feel like flying, getting undressed, hugging the world, kissing Jace, and dancing and painting and writing and drinking more—all at the same time.
I dart out onto the terrace, lean over the railing, and shout, “Heeeeeeeey!” at the top of my voice, because I can’t hold back euphoria.
Suddenly, strong arms appear behind my knees and around my back, and Jace picks me up into his arms like I’m a feather.
“Crazy girl, we’ll have a visit from angry neighbors,” he says with laughter rather than reproach as he carries me back.
I want to tell him that I want to make out with him, and him carrying me in his arms is ridiculously romantic.
But we’re already in the living room. “That’s The Way I Like It” is blasting. I’m back on my feet, and Jace is not touching me anymore. But he’s dancing, and—oh, my God—he is a great dancer, his movements tame but rhythmic and sexy.
“Shots!” I yell.
We do another round. I don’t know what time it is. I don’t care. We are drunk.
And we are back to dancing.
Jace points his forefinger at Tito. “You owe me breakfast in bed.”
I’ve never seen Jace so relaxed and easygoing. Drunk, obviously.
Tito dances up to him with the seductiveness of a feline during mating season. “I’ll deliver.”
“How about you deliver it to Lu?”
“What’s Lu got to do with it?” He dances against Jace like Magic Mike at warm-up.
“We didn’t specify the bet. I want my breakfast served to Lu.” Jace cocks a brow. But he doesn’t know how persistent Tito can be when he wants something.
“Coward,” Tito blurts with a smile. “Jace, why don’t we cut the bullshit?” Here it comes. “Can I take you home?” He slides his hands on Jace’s chest.
Jace veers away, dances up behind me, takes both my hands in his, and points them like guns at Tito. “No.”
I burst out in laughter at Jace’s diplomatic handling of Tito’s flirting. Also to hide the fact that my body heats up at his touch.
His hands slide around my waist, and I cover them with mine.
Yes!
