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I’m grinning ear to ear as he transitions into a funky kind of slide and pulls out some moves that look fresh out of a 70’s disco. I do my best to copy him, but he stops to correct me at least four times before I get the hang of it.
By the end of the song, I’m practically wheezing with laughter.
“Where did you learn to dance?!” I gasp out.
Angus merely offers me a hand as the next song begins to play. “I was a ballet dancer in another life.”
“I believe it,” I say, taking his hand and instantly being pulled into a fast waltz. “You’re amazing!”
“It’s nice to know I can still keep up with the kids.” He grins sheepishly before twirling me around.
I take the opportunity to pirouette lazily away from him.
“What was that?” Angus suddenly seems outraged. “Do that again. Properly.”
“You sound like my Madam back at school,” I complain before beginning to spin again.
Angus watches me closely. “Better. How many can you do in a row?”
“More than you,” I jab back with a grin.
Angus merely crosses his arms expectantly. Challenge accepted.
I pick up my foot high just to showcase an unnecessary amount of skill and begin. Head perfectly straight, I pirouette once, twice, three times before I begin to feel off-balance. Crap. Just one more…
The fourth pirouette has me leaning too far left, but I stubbornly carry on. Angus chuckles as I stumble, heading headfirst into the stack of newly upholstered cushions.
Only to be caught by a pair of strong, tan arms that practically engulf me as they set me straight.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Arnie says sharply as he looks down at me with his unendingly dark eyes.
It takes me a minute to catch my breath before I can respond. “Not at all.”
“Are you sure? It looks like you’ve invited a home makeover show into my house.” Arnie lets go of me to inspect the cushions.
I have to shake the daze away and frown. “This place looked like shit and you know it.”
“But why does it need to be so brightly colored?” he counters, almost sneering at the oranges, blues, and forest greens incorporated into the room’s palette.
It starts to get on my nerves. “Because dark colors are boring?”
“Perhaps I should check on dinner,” Angus interrupts tactfully, making a beeline for the door and disappearing down the corridor.
We watch him leave before I turn to look at Arnie expectantly. “So?”
“So what?” he responds, not quite looking at me.
“How did it go? Are we going there, or is she meeting us here?” I inquire.
“It was a negotiation. We weren’t exactly planning a sleepover,” he bites out. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
The joy that was just beginning to blossom in my chest begins to wilt. “Aimee doesn’t want to see me?”
“Aimee doesn’t know you’re the one who’s asking,” Arnie explains, walking over to the record player to stop the sound of the finished vinyl clicking in our ears.
I follow him. “Why not?” I press, cornering him.
“Because it’s too dangerous right now,” he says firmly, without looking at me.
