chapter twenty-two #2
“Now that we’re all heel-to-toe,” Michelle continues, “I’d like you to jump again and land in the same position.”
Riles springs up effortlessly, landing exactly as she started. I give it a go too, surprised when I manage it without fault.
“See?” She playfully nudges my ribs. “Don’t knock it ’til you try it.”
“Very good!” Michelle praises. “Keep going. Bounce to the beat.” She claps and counts in rhythm, enthusiastically encouraging us all to look like idiots.
I sneak another glance at Riles’s chest and smirk—at least something good is coming out of this.
“Now switch feet, everyone! Left in front, right behind. And repeat! One, two, three, four.”
Internally groaning, I do as I’m told. “Do they really dance like this in Ireland?”
Riles twists as she jumps, facing me when she lands. “Uh-huh.” She then jumps and twists back as if she’s a damn professional.
I hold still and spear her with my damnation. “Have you done this before?”
“Uh-huh.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, but I can’t help but be impressed. Just like the woman who signed me up for this bullshit, Riles has swindled me too.
Michelle gives us another round of applause, then rests her hands on her hips.
“You’re all doing so well.” She positions her right foot in front of her left again.
“This time, I want you to jump once, and on the second jump, hop on your left foot while lifting and bending your right leg. So, jump, hop.”
Practicing it slowly, I murmur, “Jump, hop.”
“On the third count, you’re going to jump, hop, back-front, back-front,” Michelle instructs.
Confused, I shake my head and grip my hair.
“Here, I’ll show you,” Riles says while whacking my arm, demanding I pay attention while she demonstrates the move. I turn to face her, cross my arms over my chest, and admire the view. “Are you watching?”
“I am.”
“My feet, Riley. Watch my feet.”
“I can’t. I’m distracted.”
She gives me a gentle shove back into line. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
I do, but I refuse to admit it. Ever.
“Jump, hop. Back-front, back-front,” Michelle repeats, circling her platform.
Positioning myself yet again, I give it a try and don’t fuck it up.
“You did it!” Riles beams, her eyes flicking from my feet to dead ahead, her hands straight by her sides.
Confident I can put this Michael Flatley dude to shame—whoever the hell he is—I jump up again, hop, and then do the step-back-and-forth move when I lose my balance, my arm instinctively flinging out and hitting the woman beside me in the head.
“Shit!” I gasp. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
She rubs the spot and glares at me before forcing a fake smile and stepping over a safe distance to allow me extra space.
Smart woman. I’d move away from me too.
Feeling awful, I hunch over and rest my hands on my knees.
“Hey, don’t give up,” Riles says, stifling her laughter.
“It’ll be safer if I do. I nearly knocked that poor woman out.”
She glances at my victim, then swipes her hand. “Don’t worry about it. She’s fine.”
I sneak a look too. “Yeah, for now.”
“Here, if you’re worried, swap places with me.” Riles shuffles me to the end of the row. “And try putting your hands in your pockets like Leo did in Titanic.”
I do as I’m told, because securing my hands is a good idea. “Wait!” I gasp, twisting in her direction. “Is that how you know how to do this… because of Titanic?”
She grins, nodding maniacally. “Yes! After watching the movie, I begged Mom for lessons.”
My jaw tics. “How many lessons did you have?”
She side-eyes me. “A few.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me this before we started?”
“No. You insulted me and said I couldn’t dance.”
I did, damn it! “Do you have any other talents I’m unaware of?”
Riles kicks her feet out and turns in a circle, exactly like Rose and Jack did in the movie. “Maybe.”
Amusement lifts my face; she’s good. “Care to elaborate?”
“Not yet. But if you keep going, I might show you what I can do with a banana.”
The banana in my pants jerks to life.
She winks.
“After you’ve stepped back onto your front foot for the second time,” Michelle says, “you’ll start the sequence again by jumping and bringing your back foot to the front, to the same position we started in.
So jump, hop, back-front, back-front, then jump, switch, hop, back-front, back-front, and so on. ”
I’m so fucking confused. Jump. Hop. Leg up, leg down. Switch. Who invented this shit show? And to top it all off, I now have images of Riles in my head, seductively licking a goddamned banana.
I stop hippity-hopping and turn toward her. “What can you do with a bana—”
“Don’t worry about that,” she says, turning me forward again. “Just keep going.”
Groaning, I slide my hands into my pockets and count to the beat. “You better show me this banana trick.”
She giggles. “I will! Now focus.”
Following Riles’s lead, I’m soon jigging like Leo. Sort of. Less Leo-ish and more Riley-ish—heavy-footed and uncoordinated.
“Brilliant, everyone!” Michelle shouts. “You’re all naturals.”
She’s lying; we’re not. There are at least three other unfortunate dudes worse than I am, one of them resembling an electrocuted donkey, his dance space much broader than what the woman I assaulted gave me. I feel sorry for him. Or more accurately, I share his pain.
“Now, to finish the dance, after the fourth hop back, we’re going to then hop onto our left foot and then rock onto our front, then back, and then front again. Like this.” Michelle demonstrates. “And that’s it!”
Blinking, I shake my head, once again lost.
“Are we ready?” Michelle claps above her head, eyes wide with anticipation. “Let’s give the full routine a try.”
Wait! What?
Riles and most of the others eagerly call out, “Yes!” but I know I’m going to fuck it up.
It’s a foregone conclusion, like day and night, life and death…
me and Riles. And if I’m going to look like a complete and utter fool, I might as well do it in style.
My style. The Riley-can’t-dance-for-shit style.
At this point, I’ve got nothing to lose.
Sucking in a deep breath, I puff it out again as Michelle counts us in, and as if a herd of elephants is storming the ship, the atrium rumbles with our stomping feet, the thunderous noise attracting people to stop and watch from the decks above.
They point and clap, cheering us along, no doubt grateful it’s us and not them.
Jolly music fills the atrium, and Paul bounces about like a frog, Riles deviating from the steps and performing her own fancy variations, my eyes glued to her spirited chest. It throws me off, and I fumble a step, completely mucking up the routine, my legs and arms flicking out like a circus clown.
“What was that?” Riles asks, bursting into laughter as she bends over and clutches her waist.
I keep going, wobbling my head like a dickhead and murdering the dance, my limbs flinging here, there, and everywhere, because I have no idea what part we’re up to or what I’m doing.
Standing straight again, Riles tries to continue but fails, her body bowing once more, her knees pressed together, tears streaming down her face. “Stop! I can’t. I’m gonna pee.”
I’m tempted to just give up, for her sake more than mine, but Riley Wilson, Lord of the flies… rings… dance… whatever, is not a quitter. I finish what I start, even this hippity-hoppity bullshit.
“Nearly there,” Michelle calls out. “One more time!”
Jumping a safe distance from Riles, just in case she does lose control of her bladder, I prepare for my finale, springing up like a spasming dolphin before spinning and dropping to one knee, arms out wide.
“Oh, my God!” She stumbles back, bends over, straightens, and then bends again, her entire body wracking with hysterics as she gasps for air. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I hang my head, mortified yet thrilled I can make her laugh as much as she is, her damp eyes sparkling, her face overjoyed.
It drowns my heart with happiness—a death I’ll gladly give it if this is the outcome.
And despite the utter pile of dance dung I just performed, I can’t help but feel proud.
I let go and danced like a freak… for Mom, Riles, and for me.
Stepping forward, she holds her hands out and tries to pull me up, but I finally burst into laughter and fall on my ass, taking her with me.
“You’re insane,” she chokes out, tumbling off my chest until we’re both flat on our backs, spectators still cheering several decks above. “Hilarious, but insane.”
I scrub my hands over my face. “I’m not even going to argue with that.”
“That’s because you can’t.”
“Well, tickle me pink,” Paul announces. “I think we have our winner.”
Raising my head to where he stands before me, the gold trophy outstretched in his hand, I accept it from him and then flop onto my back again, holding it with one hand in the air, the other covering my eyes.
Riles’s lips crash down upon mine, and even though I have no doubt embarrassed myself to within an inch of my life, I couldn’t care less.
I haven’t had this much fun… probably ever.
“Now we both have one,” Riles says as she positions the two trophies side by side on the desk in our cabin. “They’re twins!”
I step up behind her and dangle a banana over her shoulder.
“What the…?” She snatches it and whirls around to face me. “Where’d you get this?”
“The buffet.” I smirk. “On our way past.”
“You sneaky son of a—”
I waggle my brows. “So, this banana trick….”
“Riley!”
“A promise is a promise.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
“Fine,” she huffs out. “I’ll show you.”
Greedily rubbing my hands together, I take a seat on the sofa and lean back as she kicks off her shoes and walks a lazy circle in front of me, her fingers delicately caressing the banana’s tip.
Heat waves over my body, my pants tightening at my groin. I shuffle to get comfortable, subtly adjusting myself as I swallow.
She flicks her eyes to my hand, then bites her lip seductively. “I haven’t done this in a while,” she says innocently, a faint blush warming her cheeks. “I’m not sure I remember how.”
“That’s—” I choke on my words before clearing my croaky throat. “That’s okay. Take your time.”
Riles smiles as if she’s playing with me, as if her memory is perfectly fine, and it excites me all the more. I love her modesty, especially when she’s faking it.
“You chose a big one,” she says, rotating the banana in her hand as she assesses its size.
I swallow again. “I did.”
“It might be too big.”
“I’m sure you can handle it.”
What the fuck am I saying?
I have no idea what she can handle or how she plans to handle it, so I should shut the hell up.
Her brow hitches before she twists at the waist from one side to the other, her fingers splitting the top of the banana ever so slightly.
“I used to practice this a lot, at home, by myself,” she confides, her eyes flicking back to mine before she lowers to the ground, lays it by her foot, then leans back on her hands and opens her legs.
Fuck me, why isn’t she wearing a dress, or better yet… nothing at all?
I run my hand through my hair and swallow yet again, my throat thick, my cock hard.
“Do you like bananas?” she asks, licking her lips as she toes the length of it, her shiny, ink-colored toenails setting my body on fire.
A low growl escapes my mouth. “I do.”
“Me too. They’re so smooth, soft, and sweet.”
Continuing to watch her toe-fuck the banana, I have no doubt in my mind she’s smooth, soft, and sweet as well, my patience to find out almost nonexistent until she scissors her toes, clasps the banana, and fucking peels it… with her other foot.
“Ta-daa!” Lifting her leg, she offers me the fruit. “Hungry?”
I blink, close my eyes, and… laugh.
“No?” she teases. “It’ll be a shame to waste.”
Burying my frustration, I snap my eyes open and launch off the sofa toward her. She screams and tries to scurry away, but I clasp her ankles and twist her onto her back, dragging her to me until she’s straddling my lap, my arms firmly secured around her.
“That was…”
“Talent?” she offers.
“…not what I was expecting.”
Giggling, her eyes mischievously chase mine, lips closing in a fraudulent pout. “But you said you liked bananas.”
I nip her shoulder, then trail my tongue up her neck, tasting her delicious skin.
“Ohhh,” she drawls, voice breathy, eyelids fluttering. “So you thought my talent was something else, huh?”
I nibble her earlobe and murmur, “You could say that.”
She ghosts her lips over mine. “Maybe it is.”
My body sizzles like a firecracker, my hips bucking, desperate for her to show me, until her fingers slide beneath my waistband.
“Fuck!” I grit my teeth and hold her hand still. “Wait!”
Her body stiffens. “Wh—”
“Before we go any further, there’s something I have to do first.”
She retracts her hand, her pretty eyes cautious.
“Trust me, sweetheart. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”