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Fuck, I think my crush on her has just grown. A lot.
Doesn’t help that she’s in that tight sweater dress and knee boots. It’s not revealing at all, but it shows off her shape, and I can’t help but think about her naked. Of course, I was doing that before I picked her up, but now it’s much worse. The dress is a beige that could be mistaken for nude, so my mind keeps making her naked in my head. The boots? I want to see her in just the boots and nothing else.
The problem is, she hates me. I owe her money. And cannot think of a way to seduce her yet. Spending time with her enemy’s family is not the aphrodisiac I need it to be. Maybe we can get a drink after all of this and see where the night takes us.
Dad stands, and she follows suit. He cocks his head, then smiles. “Time for the dance.”
“The dance?” she asks.
“The dance?” I ask flatly, trying not to whine.
He chuckles. “Yes, Anderson. The dance.” Then he walks past us to find Mom.
“What dance?” June asks.
“It’s a family tradition on my mom’s side of the family. When they get together, there’s dancing. It’s just a thing they do, sort of a way to break the ice for the new people and reconnect with everyone.” I shrug. “We can try to skip it, but they will hunt us down.”
“Well, if it’ll make a good impression on them, I’m game. I enjoy dancing.”
“Oh. That’s great.” I put my arm out for her. “Shall we?”
She smiles and takes my arm. “Lead the way.”
When I was a boy, I had fantasized about having a girl with me for the family dance. After I met June, that fantasy was always her. Seeing her laugh and twirl and have fun with my mom’s side of the family. They are much more easy-going than Dad’s side. Still as proper as ever, but if someone spills their wine, it’s more likely to earn a happy laugh than a scolding.
Taking June to the small ballroom, I eat up the look on her face. She lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh my god, you two were not exaggerating.”
“No, we were not. This ballroom is smaller than the one at my parents’ home in Brookline, but it suits our purposes.” The ballroom is large enough for everyone to be on the dance floor at the same time, and with dark wood floors and ivory walls, it gives the impression of a dance studio more than a ballroom. Wide windows show off the city and a small band plays jazz standards in the corner.
“This is so much fancier than I’d expected, Anderson.”
“Be glad we’re not at their Brookline house. You’d have to wear a gown.”
She laughs, and I take her in my arms. It startles her, but she presses herself to me in a stance, before we begin a turn around the dance floor. As we dance, it is so hard to remember the real reason she’s here. That it’s not for me. It’s for the money. Any other person, I would want to keep things transactional between us. That’s easier—less messy. No attachments is a simpler way of life. But if I’m honest with myself, I hate it. Simpler, yes, but meaningless. I want her here for me. It would be so easy to let myself get swept up in this farce—I want it to be real. I want all of this to mean something.
Funny how a family tradition I hated now gives me the chance to have June in my arms. Even if it’s only for the money, at least I finally get to have her here like this. I get to hold her and imagine what it would be like if she were here because she wanted to be.
It’s the fantasy I had as a boy, but it’s tainted by our agreement. She’d never be here of her own accord. She hates me. I’ve given her no reason not to. But maybe if she has an enjoyable time, then she won’t want to run away after all of this is over. If I can make this fun for her, then she might want to stay. Or maybe I’m just telling myself what I want to believe.
A slow version of, “There will never be another you,” plays, and I worry she’ll want to sit it out. But instead, she loops her arms around my neck, so I press against her low back, and we sway. This feels so right. I never want it to end.
June murmurs, “Been a long time since I slow-danced. Sorry if I step on your feet.”
I laugh and she smiles up at me, and my breath catches in my throat as she presses her head to my shoulder. This is everything I have ever wanted. “You’re doing just fine, June.”
“Thanks. This is nice, Anderson. Your family is a little?—"
“Intense?” I offer to mitigate her word choice.
She giggles. “I was going to say passionate, but yes, intense works, too. Explains a lot about you.”
“How so?”
“Well, forgive the phrasing, but you’re like a dog with a bone when it comes to going after what you want.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“It’s nice.”
