Chapter 6 #2
Teasing, flirting, and taunting were one thing.
Being in dancing proximity to Vivienne Brown is another.
The woman hates me as much as the Montagues despised the Capulets—if not more.
And aside from a great ass, only God knows what she’s hiding in those jeans.
A torture device? Poisons? I wouldn’t put that last one past her—she’s a chemist, after all.
“There are better ways to do that. Don’t you think, Melanie?” I give her a hard stare, hoping it’ll kill her torturous plans.
All I get is one dismissive shrug. “Couples flow together. Their movements and thoughts are in sync. Nothing about the two of you is coordinated—as seen firsthand by the fountain incident.”
“Throw us into a river with an extreme current, and we’ll flow just fine.” I come to our defense.
“What he said,” Vivienne seconds.
“See, we just came to our first agreement. We’re on our way to becoming the power couple of the century.” I raise my hand, and she meets it with a crisp, satisfying high five.
Look at that—teamwork.
Melanie hums, forefingers caressing her chin as she inspects us up and down.
“Doesn’t matter! You two aren’t getting out of this, so you both better cooperate!”
“Let us plead our ca—”
Melanie spins on her heels, marching away before Vivienne’s protest.
The defeat settles instantaneously, her head dropping low. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”
“Not necessarily.” I try looking on the bright side, but I’ve got my doubts.
The dread and heaviness in our steps are evident on our way to the dance teacher.
“Let’s get right into it, you guys,” Gloria says when we stop in front of her, hips swaying to the sultry beat of some Spanish song. “Would it be fair to assume you’ve danced with each other before?”
Vivienne lets out a loud, audible laugh, one that quickly dies when I bump my elbow into hers. She whips toward me in shock, but my pointed expression keeps her words of hate at bay.
“On numerous occasions!” The switch in Vivienne’s voice gives me whiplash. “We specialize in the goose’s tango!”
Gloria’s brows furrow in concern. “Okay. Well, why don’t we assess the situation and go from there?” With the press of a button, the music from her speaker shifts to something classical.
I turn to face Vivienne, the worried look in her eyes confirming she’s just as scared as I am.
There’s no way out of this.
“Don’t get all shy on me, now.” Gloria giggles like this is amusing to her. “Nate, hands around her waist. Vivienne, arms around his shoulders.”
I take a slow step toward Vivienne as she takes an even more hesitant one toward me. My gaze drops to the floor, the tips of our shoes inches apart.
Her white Converse blemished with a brown mark.
My shiny black dress shoes.
The difference between us is like night and day.
After a few more words of encouragement from the dance teacher, and an awkward dance of limbs, we’ve done exactly what’s been asked of us—with some minor modifications. My hands hover above Vivienne’s waist, while her arms are floating somewhere above my shoulders.
“Have you never touched a woman before? Let your hands rest,” Vivienne half-whispers, half-hisses as Gloria circles us in concern.
I snort. This girl isn’t one to talk.
“You can’t complain when you’re not touching me either. When’s the last time you’ve been with a man, huh, Vivienne?” I taunt low enough for her to hear.
A flush spreads over her cheeks, and she turns her face to the side as though it’ll do anything to hide it from me. Out of spite, I allow my hands to rest, pinching her waist enough to bring her attention back to me.
“What was that about?” Vivienne frowns.
“Too afraid to answer the question?” I smirk.
“It’s been a while, okay? Just like I’m sure it has for you.”
“And what makes you say that?” I quirk a brow.
“Easy, your awful personality. Women run in the other direction before you get the chance to say hi.”
I dip my head, lips brushing above her ear. “Trust me, they’re not complaining when they scream my name. I may not catch them, but God, do they love the fall.”
Vivienne jerks back, shock written all over her face, while a wide smile spreads on mine.
I could have told her we fall in the same boat—that I also have a lack of genuine connections with the opposite gender. But where would the fun be in that?
“Great!” Gloria’s cheery voice catches us off guard.
“Now that we’ve sorted that out, let’s do some breathing exercises to find our heart chakra.
Dance is rooted in emotional openness, not awkwardness…
or whatever that was.” Gloria circles a hand in our general direction.
“So deep breath in”—she closes her eyes, the lines in her face melting away—“and deep breath out.”
Neither one of us follows her command—only look defiantly into each other’s eyes.
Vivienne’s lips curl into an amused smile before getting on the tips of her toes to reach my ear. “You heard that, Nate. No need to be awkward. Always knew you weren’t as slick as you claimed to be.”
The warmth of her breath. The citrus scent of her shampoo. The way her chest presses against mine. It’s all too much to take in. So, I do what I do best—pull away from her with a smirk and act like nothing about her affects me.
After another deep breath, one of Gloria’s eyelids pops open with the graceless flutter of a malfunctioning doll. Open. Close. Open. Close. “I said, take a deep breath in,” she snaps, her words dripping with aggression.
Without another glance, Vivienne and I follow her instructions, earning us a slow, satisfied sigh of relief.
“Beautiful. That’s it. You just need to relax. Performance anxiety is prevalent among couples the first time they do it together, but it’s completely normal. It might be a bit awkward at first, but once you get into the rhythm of it, it becomes more intense and enjoyable.”
Vivienne’s eyes widen at the obvious sexual innuendo. And my mind floods with a thousand dirty thoughts I shouldn’t entertain when the woman is completely off-limits.
Whatever it is that changes in our demeanor has Gloria jumping with joy.
“Wonderful! Now that you’re in the proper position, Nate, take a step forward with your left foot, and Vivienne, step back with the right.”
I do as the woman asks, putting my left foot forward, only to be met with a pained groan. Vivienne glares at me as though I purposely stepped on her toes.
“Don’t start with me now,” she retorts.
I don’t bother responding when it isn’t my fault. She’s simply too slow.
“Let’s try that again.” Gloria chuckles nervously. “At the same time…if that’s possible. Moving in sync, as the youngsters like to call it. Do we know the meaning of that word? Sync?”
I chuckle. “Vivienne is great at definitions. It’s my future wife’s strong suit.”
That was apparently the wrong thing to say, as during our next attempt at dancing, Vivienne stomps on my toes. I wince in pain, glancing down to see a mischievous smile on her lips.
“Now, that was on purpose,” I mutter.
She shrugs. “No clue what you’re talking about.”
Two can play at this game.
“Let’s do that one more time. Just one more time. Properly. Please.” Gloria’s head tilts to the side, the corner of her lips twitching along with that same eye.
The poor woman—I’m afraid she’s glitching.
“One step forward.”
I do as asked, purposely stepping on Vivienne’s toes.
Brown eyes blaze into mine, seething at the taste of her own medicine.
“One step back.” Gloria’s voice grows more agitated.
This time, Vivienne pulls her hand out of mine and digs her nails into my back until I groan in pain.
I’m about to grip the base of her hair and yank her head backward when a piercing scream hurts my eardrums.
I jump back in shock to watch Gloria throw her hands up so quickly that Vivienne’s hair blows out of her face.
“That’s it. Stop. Just stop!” The woman smacks her speaker, effectively shutting the music off.
“I said at the same time. What don’t you understand about at the same time!
” Her voice jumps six more octaves until the glass of water sitting on the table behind her shatters, the contents spilling all over the floor.
I’m about to come to our defense and offer up an apology when Melanie ushers over to pull Gloria into a hug. “I am so sorry. They’re just that kind of couple—they tease each other often.”
“Go get a drink of water, and come back as a man, not a boy,” Melanie mouths, caressing Gloria’s back as tremors ripple through her body.
I let out a sigh, retreating to a darkened corner of the restaurant when Vivienne saunters over with the intoxicating light sway of her hips.
“You’re going to be the reason she goes into cardiac arrest.” She stops right in front of me, placing her water bottle to her lips. Her throat works quietly with every sip, my gaze lingering for far too long on the dainty slope of her neck.
Plastic scrunches beneath my fingers as I take the drink from her hand, chugging it back while she eyes me in distaste. I couldn’t care less, though. I needed something to cool me down.
“You’re the one who started it,” I say, giving the empty bottle back to her, voice gruff despite the added hydration.
“Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that. You’re the one who stepped on my toes first.”
“It’s time to take accountability for your actions, Vivienne. You can’t blame every minor inconvenience in your life on me.”
A cough interrupts our stare off, and we turn to find one furious Melanie. Her head is angled strategically to reveal the sharpened tip of the pencil sticking through her hair.
“Gloria is going to need therapy after what you’ve both put her through.” She points her hand in the woman’s direction.
It’s then that I see it—black hair sticking to her face, her cardigan draped over her shoulders, her arms wrapped around herself as tears stream down her olive skin.
Guilt claws away at me, and when I turn to Vivienne, her eyes tell the same story.
“Your behavior was unacceptable, especially for two grown adults. With that said, the engagement party will take place sometime next week. As it stands, there’s no chance it’s going to go well when you’re such an awful match.
So tonight, you’ll go home, take a moment to reflect on your actions, feel guilty for the long-lasting trauma you’ve caused that poor woman, and pick a day to reconvene.
I want you guys to get to know each other.
No tomfoolery this time around. Capisce? ”
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer.
Vivienne responds with a curt, “Of course.”
“Wonderful.” Melanie pulls out a velvet box from her pocket and hands it over to Vivienne. “This is your engagement ring—wear it everywhere you go and don’t take it off. They see you without it once, and they’ll think you’ve broken up. We can’t have that happen.”
Vivienne retrieves the box, nodding in approval.
“Now go.” Melanie points to the restaurant’s exit. “Go before I do something bad.”