Interpretative Dancing
Alek
Standing in front of Hayvin’s door, I rake my fingers through my hair and smooth my shirt, erasing wrinkles.
My grip on the wildflowers quivers as I jab the doorbell. The chime rings through her house, and within moments, Hayvin’s voice crackles to life from the camera speaker.
“State your business, sir,” she teases.
I peer into the camera with a smile. “There’s this beautiful, kind woman who agreed to go on a date with me.
She’s full of sass and lights up a room anytime she walks into it.
She’s one of the best lyricists I’ve ever met.
Her lyrics put you in a chokehold and hold you captive until the final note.
Her smile can break through my darkness, and her laugh makes me fall deeper in love with her every time I hear it. ”
“Smooth talker,” Hayvin mutters.
Her voice falters, a subtle vulnerability breaking through her usually playful confidence. I crush the flowers in my grip, resisting the impulse to comfort her on the spot.
“You can come in,” she says.
Before I can make a move, Everleigh speaks. “Not another step, lover boy. Before I permit you entrance to take my girl, you must perform an interpretive dance.”
A drumbeat booms from the speakers, and I groan, already envisioning this disaster plastered across her fucking social media for everyone to see.
I set the flowers on the porch swing and roll my head along my shoulders.
Then I drop my ass like it’s motherfucking hot. My moves are wild, hopelessly offbeat, but I throw myself into it with everything I’ve got.
I pop my ass and roll my hips. I twirl, leap, and windmill my arms, spinning around the porch like I’m dodging an angry swarm of bees, all for the camera’s delight.
It’s a disaster. Utterly fucking awful. But as their laughter drowns out the music, the flush of embarrassment gives way to relief, a surge of connection settling over me. Every scrap of mortification feels worth it.
Dropping to my hands and knees, I arch my back repeatedly before straightening.
I nod to the beat and crawl across the porch as the beat builds to its crescendo.
The beat ends as I stretch my torso up, reaching back to smack my ass.
I hold the pose and make a duck face into the camera, winking at the girls.
They whoop and holler, causing me to laugh as I climb to my feet.
Sweat drips down my temple as I catch my breath, my chest heaving. I lift my t-shirt’s hem to wipe my face.
A soft, irresistible whimper escapes her. The sudden shift in her gaze scorches my skin, heat and longing written clearly there, forcing me to hide my grin in my shirt, her quick reaction making my own heart race.
Good to know my woman is still attracted to me, at least.
I drop my shirt, and Hayvin watches me with heat. Everleigh lounges against the doorframe, smirking as she types on her phone.
“Let me guess. You’re uploading that video to your feed?” I groan.
Everleigh snorts. “Of course. It’s too good not to. You got an issue with that?”
I shrug, picking up the flowers to hand to Hayvin. “Why would I? I’m not ashamed to show the world how crazy I am over your best friend.”
She wants to say something snarky. It’s there in her eyes, and I brace myself for her sharp tongue.
Everleigh glances at the flowers, then down at the video, and finally at Hayvin before exhaling. “You did good, lover boy.”
Hayvin scoots up to me. “Are those for me?”
I offer them, wincing at their battered state. Damn, I must’ve set them down harder than I thought. “Sorry. They took a bit of a beating.”
She takes them, brings them to her nose, and inhales. “They’re perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” I murmur, reaching out to run my finger over her cheek.
She shivers, peering up at me through her lashes. In that moment, a storm of emotion flickers in her eyes—yearning, hesitation, hope—which tightens my throat.
Fuck. I ache to taste her. I crave her lips on mine. It’s been far too long since I’ve kissed her, since I’ve held her close.
I miss her so fucking much.
Every day, I stare at myself in the mirror and wonder how I fucked up so badly.
How I lost the one precious thing in my life.
Therapy has revealed so much shit. I lived in my childhood.
I know what happened throughout it. The coldness, the neglect.
The way my parents hated not just me, but each other.
Constantly fucking around on each other and rubbing it in one another’s faces.
It’s like they were always trying to one-up each other.
It was normal for me. That was all love was.
A constant stream of betrayal, revenge, and coldness.
Everything was just kind of cemented when I became friends with David and Jerica.
Their parents are just as bad, if not worse, than mine are.
When you add in Keaton cheating on Charlie after so many years together, the only thing I knew about love anymore was how warped it was.
Until Hayvin.
I just didn’t recognize what I was feeling—what I was seeing from her—until it was too late.
Thankfully, I’m working through it. Every session with my therapist leaves me a little lighter, as if I’m finally learning to breathe again.
I go to take a step away from temptation, but the light weight of Hayvin’s hand at my hip stills my movement.
She pushes the flowers against my chest, using only one of her fingers to tangle into my shirt.
The movement is light because the hold isn’t the tightest, but when she tugs, I follow.
She surprises me when she lifts to her toes and brushes her mouth gently across mine.
Hayvin keeps it short and sweet. Her flushed face hints at joy as she steps back, gazing up at me with a happiness I haven’t seen on her while around me for months. It’s a clear shift from her previous guardedness.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks, holding the door open in invitation. “I just have to put these in water really quickly.”
“I figured I’d leave the choice to you. You have two options. Bowling or Putt Putt. You love both, so it’s whichever you’re in the mood for. As long as I’m spending time with you, I’m okay with either.”
Hayvin beams at me as she fills a vase with water. “Oh. Let’s go bowling. It’s been a while since I’ve done that.”
“Bowling it is. Afterwards, we’ll grab a bite to eat and a drink.”
“Sounds good.”
Everleigh comes into the kitchen. “I’m going to head out. You two have fun.” She brushes her mouth against Hayvin’s temple. “Love you, babe.”
“Love you, too.”
Everleigh aims her index and middle fingers at her eyes before pointing at me. I nod solemnly, accepting her silent warning. I wouldn’t expect anything less out of Hayvin’s best friend.
“Evie, stay out of trouble. Don’t go landing yourself in jail.”
“No promises,” she chirps.
“I don’t know what you all are talking about, but if you need bail money or a talented lawyer, give me a call,” I tell her. “If it’s about some asshole, just tell me who I need to hurt.”
Everleigh’s lips twitch as she nods. “Appreciate that. I’ll keep you in mind.”
After Everleigh leaves, Hayvin switches off all the lights, follows me to the porch, and locks her house.
I hold my hand out to her, hoping I’m not overstepping. She slides her palm over mine without hesitation, and I twine our fingers together.
When she squeezes my hand, I glance down at her, only to find her already looking up at me.
“What?” I murmur, pulling us to a stop in front of my truck.
“Nothing. I’m just glad we’re doing this.”
“Really?”
Her eyes soften at the crack in my voice, and she gently curls her fingers around my jaw, her confidence grounding me.
“Alek, listen to me. I promise I would not be here with you if I didn’t trust your sincerity.
You’re changing. You’re trying to make amends.
Trust me to know what I want. ‘Kay?” she says, her tone steady with reassurance, dissolving my anxiety.
Taking another chance, I lean my forehead against hers and close my eyes. “Okay. I’ll trust you to know what you want.”
“Good.” She pecks her mouth against mine. “Now, what do you say you take me bowling so I can kick your ass?”
Fuck. I love this woman.
“I don’t know, baby girl. I’m known for my strikes,” I tease.
Something works through her eyes as she nibbles her lip. “Want to make a wager? If I win, you have to get up on stage again.”
“Deal. If I win, you spend the night with me. Just sleep,” I stress.
“Deal.” Hayvin kisses me again. “There. Now it’s sealed.”
Three kisses?
I’m a lucky fucking man.