24. Cori
Chapter twenty-four
Cori
B y the time eight o’clock rolled around and the DJ was pumping Tyler the Creator, most of the kids had stopped talking about the fight between Tycho and Jayden.
Deck had rigged the disco ball so that the gym took on a starlit quality, a real accomplishment considering how old and dingy the walls were. He’d stayed for the dance, telling me he wanted to see his hard work in action.
“Nothing better to do on a Friday night?” I teased.
He scoffed playfully. “Hardly.”
I realized that with our focus on helping Johnny and the Center, we hadn’t caught up much on the more mundane details of Deck’s life.
It was a metaphor for our relationship that I knew about his soul-crushing inertia due to blaming himself for the past, but not what his favorite restaurant was or whether he went hiking on the weekends.
How had he come to start a construction business?
Did he enjoy living in Mountlake Terrace?
He lived alone, but did he…date?
The thought of Deck having a relationship sat in my stomach like a brick.
But I didn’t know what to do with that feeling.
Acknowledging any sort of romantic interest in him would be a huge step, affecting not just us, but my brother, our families, and the Center.
And even though my life had changed drastically in the past two months, I hadn’t completely abandoned the caution that kept me sane for a dozen years.
But regardless of where we were headed, my pull to him was as intense as ever. I wanted to know him more.
Stationed near the food tables, he watched the kids on the dance floor with his arms crossed.
I came up beside him and grabbed a cookie. “What would you be doing tonight if you weren’t here looking like a bouncer?”
He chuckled, dropping his arms to hook his thumbs into his belt loops.
“Honestly? I’d probably be home watching TV.
I’m usually cashed on Fridays after the stuff Juan and I do all week.
” Glancing at me, he added pointedly, “I almost never go out. Sometimes we go to this bar, Tubby’s, to watch a game or whatever, and I visit my family, but that’s about it. ”
I nodded in answer.
“What would you do?” he asked. “If you weren’t here, I mean.”
I kept my gaze on the kids as I replied, “Same as you. TV probably. Or reading. Scrolling on my phone. On Sundays, I usually have brunch with my best friends, but that’s about the extent of my social life.
I used to work a lot on weekends.” I turned to him.
“But now that everything’s changing for me, I’m thinking about trying new things. ”
“That so?”
“Yeah. I—”
“Oh my gosh, you guys, I’m so annoyed!” Marisol rushed up beside us. “I keep catching the girls in the bathroom trying to change their outfits. Two of them were practically naked.”
I shook my head, snickering. “Guess nothing has changed, huh? I remember girls in high school would put on the outfits their moms approved of to leave the house, but immediately go into the bathroom before homeroom to sex things up. Switch out leggings for short shorts or take off a sweatshirt to show off a tight tank top. Not to mention all the makeup and perfumy body lotions.”
“Don’t belittle my pain, Cori,” Marisol groaned. “Poor Chuck is monitoring the hallways and dark corners for things that would definitely not be mom-approved.”
“I know it’s tough to supervise, but on the bright side, the kids seem to be having a good time,” I said.
“They really are,” Marisol agreed. “This is the best turnout we’ve had for a late night in years. I have to admit I was nervous when you suggested a dance. I thought the kids might think it was corny or want to hang out on the edge of the gym all night.”
Her words warmed me. The kids might be enjoying themselves, but there was no way they were happier than I was, watching them laugh and goof around with their friends.
Deck turned to grab a taco from the table. “What I’m loving are these tacos. I thought you were just gonna grab some cheap pizzas, but these are amazing.”
“That was the original plan,” I said. “Then I remembered Rosa telling me about this truck parked near the elementary school that makes tacos almost as good as hers, and I figured it would be cool to support a local business with a huge catering order.” Not to mention the satisfaction of finally having a real taco at an event.
Even if it was only a teen dance. I grinned, imagining the Center kids eating cauliflower tortillas and steak tartare.
“What’s that smile on your face?” Deck asked.
“Nothing. Just happy to be here.”
The three of us resumed watching the kids. It seemed like no matter what music played or at what tempo—Olivia Rodrigo or Billie Eilish or J. Cole—they saw it as an opportunity to grind on one another.
“It’s amazing what passes for dancing nowadays,” Deck observed.
“Sorry, Grandpa, but I think it was the same when we were kids,” I countered. Though I’d attended exactly one dance in high school, so I couldn’t say for sure.
“Nah. There were at least a few times when we turned around and faced each other or danced in a group.” He frowned at the couple nearest us, the girl moving her butt against the boy’s zipper. Not even in time with the music.
“I do feel slightly cheated,” I joked. “Early 2000s teen romcoms and TikTok have led me to expect more synchronized dancing.”
“Should I get them to tone it down a smidge? Tell them to make room for Jesus?” Marisol smirked.
I chuffed.
“Seriously, you couldn’t fit a piece of paper between those two,” Deck grumbled.
“I never pegged you for such an old man, big brother.”
“C’mon,” Deck protested. “I’m not a prude or anything. At least I didn’t think so before I started watching these guys. ? Es indecente, verdad ?”
Her brother’s outrage clearly amused Marisol. “Alright, then.” She cocked her hip. “If you’re so offended, why don’t you show these kids how it’s done?”
Deck pffted. “You want me to dance?”
“Uh, no. No one wants to see that. I want you and Cori to dance. Together.” She clapped her hands in front of her. “And I know just the song.”
“Hey—” Before I could object to getting pulled into their argument, Marisol scurried away to the DJ.
“Sneaky little wannabe matchmaker,” Deck muttered.
Marisol’s complete lack of subtlety made me smile. Suddenly, she was seven years old again, trying to get Deck and me to hold hands on the couch while I babysat.
“We don’t have to do what she says,” I assured him. “I certainly don’t know how to dance any better than these kids.”
“You don’t know how to do better than rub your ass on someone’s privates?”
I hiccuped a laugh. “Dancing’s never been my thing. I went to one formal in ninth grade, and I’ve done the YMCA at weddings, but that’s about all.”
The song ended. A confused murmur rippled among the teens as the first notes of the Beatles’ “Something” came through the PA.
Peering over at Deck, I prepared to share a smile over his sister’s complete lack of chill, only to find him staring at me with a serious look on his face.
To my shock, he held out a hand.
“Marisol might have a point. C’mon, wife . Let’s show them how it’s done.”
I paused, looking down before giving him the slightest of nods. My hand felt as though it belonged to somebody else as I slid my fingers into Deck’s warm palm and allowed him to lead me to the center of the gym.
Most of the kids retreated to the tables and bleachers, although a few brave couples remained. Thankfully, no one tried to grind to George Harrison.
Deck pulled me toward him, bracing my hips with about eight inches between us. I looped my arms awkwardly around his neck as we began swaying side to side.
Into his ear, I whispered, “You surprised me. I figured you’d shut Mari down.”
“Don’t think too hard on it. I…wanted to dance with you.”
Inching closer, I almost stepped on his boot. “I’m glad.”
Glad was an understatement. It felt like floating.
The soft touch of his fingertips invaded my senses, the pure rightness of being in Deck’s arms. How many times had I fantasized about this?
How many times as a teenager had I wished Deck would ask me to homecoming or prom?
It was a dozen years later. Yet somehow, it felt exactly the way I’d imagined.
It felt perfect.
Without deliberation, I closed the last of the distance between us and leaned my cheek on his chest, looking up at him.
I felt the insistent thumping of his heart.
He tilted his head down and locked our gazes together, the silver light of the disco ball making a halo around his dark hair.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Sighing, I closed my eyes.
His grip tightened on my hips, and I heard the undertones of his mumbled, “Fuck it,” as he moved his fingers to the center of my back before circling his arms around me, cementing us together.
Deck held me in his embrace as we continued to sway and rock to the music. He maneuvered slightly to rest his chin on my head, and I linked my arms around his neck. I felt the heat of his skin, the outline of the hair beneath his T-shirt, and the hard planes of his thighs.
“Ahem.” Marisol walked up next to us, clearing her throat dramatically. “Do I need to remind you to leave room for—”
“Don’t even say it.” Deck stepped back from me. “Sorry, Cor,” he said. “I forgot where we were for a minute there.”
I noticed he didn’t apologize for holding me close, only for where he’d chosen to do so.
“It’s fine, Deck. Me too,” I said. “It was a nice dance. Thanks.” I saw a few of the kids watching us. Luckily, since Deck and I were still new around the Center, they didn’t seem to care too much. If Marisol and Chuck had danced like that, it would have been a different story.
Marisol raised her eyebrows at her brother. “Tell me again about how the kids’ dancing was too sexy?” She fanned herself with her hand.
“Knock it off,” he chided her. “It was just a dance. And it was way tamer than what the teens were doing.”
“Sure.”
Fate conspired to keep Deck and me apart for the rest of the night. He got pulled into an extended emergency repair of one of the bleachers while Marisol and I navigated the drama when Shayna, the petite vixen at the center of the fight between Jayden and Tycho, showed up.
I appreciated the distance. It gave me a chance to consider my reaction to being held in Deck’s arms. He was the only man who’d ever inspired strong emotions in me, and it was becoming harder to deny that I wanted him. That I didn’t want to be careful. Not after all these years.
And it would need to be me to light the fuse.
Because Deck had been talking himself out of his feelings for years.
He might let his guard down and put an arm around me on the couch or ask me to dance—things he could dismiss because of our friendship and our history—but he’d never admit he wanted more unless I did first. For all Deck’s talk about being a live wire, he’d always been incredibly disciplined with his words, at least when it came to me. He’d only slipped once.
Baby.
Heart emoji.