The Bad Boy's Dance (11 page)

              “Nice car.” I plopped into the passenger’s seat and buckled in. Asher caressed the steering wheel lovingly.

              “I know,” he said understandingly.

              “So,” he turned to me, “Let’s go see that movie, huh?”

              I shuddered. “I swear if you make me watch anything where I see genitalia, I’m keying your car.”

              His deep laugh filled the car, and I felt my lips tug up despite myself. “Relax, angel. No genitalia. Unless you ask, of course,” he added with a wink.

              Gagging, I pretend to heave into my backpack.

              After a few minutes of watching the scenery pass by in a blur- Asher drove like the speed limit was merely a friendly suggestion- I checked the shiny GPS he had installed. “Um, this isn’t the way to your house.”

              He sent me a ‘duh’ look. “A person wouldn’t even have to blindfold you in a kidnapping.”

              “Where are you taking me?” My volume rose. Asher had proven to be more of a pain in the butt than a menace. At least to me, anyway. I hadn’t forgotten the feral threatening he’d given that trigger-happy fellow, Trevor. Trusting him to drive me to God knows where was a whole other ballpark.

              “Relax. We’re going to see the movie, like I said.” He spoke like he was talking to an imbecile.

              “Pardon me if I still don’t believe that you’ve got a halo above your head,” I said, my voice sugary and falsely bright. “After all, you’re the most reliable and rational person I know, Poopsey- Bear.”

              Asher glared at me. I glared back until I realized something very critical-“Eyes on the road! Eyes on the road!” I screeched.

              He made a sharp right turn- frankly I think it was just because he wanted to hear me scream like a baby, “We’re going over! We’re tipping over, Houston!”- and entered a parking lot.

              Cars were parked towards the front and a large screen adorned the wall of an old building. We parked in an open spot with an unobstructed view, and I squealed. “I’ve always wanted to go to a drive-by movie!”

              Asher chuckled. “It’s called a drive-in. Believe me, a drive-by is something very different.”

              I was too giddy to come up with a witty reply.

             
Calm yourself, Ivy, you shouldn’t look even more like a freshman in front of him.

             
“What’s the movie?” I queried, mostly to force him to stop staring at me.

              He blinked, and seemed to shake himself out of whatever trance he’d been in. Now he was looking anywhere but at me. “You’ll see.” I did not trust that sly smile.

              “Genitalia,” I reminded him.

              “You asking?”

              “No! Geez, is your mind ever not in the gutter?”

              “Around you? Nope.”

              My traitorous cheeks warmed, and I focused on the screen, willing it to save me from my churning thoughts and elephants romping in my tummy.

              A hand on my chin coaxed my face back in Asher’s direction. Those deep cobalt eyes you could just dive into cut through me. I felt exposed, too exposed. Like he could see all my scars, physical and emotional.

              “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said softly, regretfully.

              My attention was honed on two things: our proximity to each other, and his fingers on my chin.

              “Y-y-you, uh, didn’t-what I mean is, er-” I stammered.

             
Nice. Now I’m a spaz and an incoherent baboon.

             
It wasn’t my fault. There was no way he wasn’t aware of the effect his looks had on anyone with two X chromosomes- hell, even a few Y’s- and I wasn’t excluded even though I didn’t like him.

             
Whatever this is, it’s purely chemical attraction. Now snap out of it.

             
Extricating my chin from his fingers, I twined my fingers tightly in my lap and discreetly scooted as far away from him as possible. “You don’t make me uncomfortable,” I lied.

              “Liar,” Asher said simply. From my periphery I noticed he was still watching me, a small frown on his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, tousling the black locks into an attractive mess.

              The movie started, and within five minutes, any awkwardness disappeared as I clutched at my side, laughing like a hyena. Asher scowled, but the frown line was gone from his forehead and his shoulders had relaxed.

              Gesticulating crazily at him, like that might convey the message I was laughing too hard to get across, I wheezed, “
Dirty Dancing
. You really brought us to watch
Dirty Dancing
.”

              He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and shot me an annoyed glare. “You done?”

              Holding up a finger, I went “Tee-hee” just to emphasize how girlish this movie was before I nodded. “Yup, I’m good. You know this is a chick flick, right?”

              He rolled his eyes. “No shit Sherlock. It was the only dance movie playing here today. You should be thanking me.”

              “It’s not like I’m super excited to see Patrick Swayze and Baby get it on,” I stated.

              Shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath, he exited the car and grabbed something from the trunk. “Get out,” he ordered. Wow, bossy much?

              Complying, I rounded to the front of the car, where Asher was spreading a blanket on the front of the car. He hopped gracefully up and leaned against the windshield, patting the spot next to him.

              Gingerly climbing up the slippery hood- apparently being a criminal of the law meant ninja skills- I sat next to him. He folded his arms beneath his head, and I couldn’t help but admire the view. His torso was lean and hard beneath his leather jacket, and the swells of his biceps were enticing. Dark strands of hair scattered over his forehead as he watched the movie, but he didn’t make a move to sweep them aside.

              We watched
Dirty Dancing
as the sun started its descent in the sky. The ‘dirty’ dancing scenes had me blushing, not because of the dancing but because Asher was less than a foot away from me. At the end, I was happy for Baby and sad for her sister, but I knew one thing for sure.

              There was no way we were replicating any of those dance scenes for a grade. That would be tantamount to prostitution. Although I doubt the spectators in Dance would be complaining.

              Suddenly, I remembered- “Shoot! We forgot to record ourselves watching the movie!”

              Asher stretched as the credits finished rolling, calm as you please. The sun was barely in the sky anymore, but the crisp wind and the soft glow of the setting sun made me feel grounded. There was just something about watching the sun’s light fade in the sky that made you feel
real,
like you were part of something bigger than yourself.

              He held up two ticket stubs, and I frowned. When had he gotten those? Eh, whatever, it solved the problem since Mrs. Knut couldn’t condone us committing a felony by recording the movie, right?

              Music started to play, and couples emerged from their vehicles, dancing to Taylor Swift’s “The Lucky One” and laughs filled the lot.

              Asher quirked an eyebrow at me.

              “Nope. Not in front of all of these people,” I said adamantly.

              Lightning fast, Asher had scooped me up and set me down in front of him. I smacked his chest, but it was like playing paddy-cake with a brick wall.

              He took one of my hands and curled me to his side. “Learn to live a little,” he whispered in my ear. Before I could respond, he’d spun me out.  So that’s how he wanted to play it? We fight with our dancing?

              Game on, Grayson.

              Releasing his hand, I set my elbows on his sides. He watched me warily, probably expecting me to knee him in the groin. Instead, I curled my right leg against his side and pushed off with my left, so that the next thing he knew, my knees were hitched up against his hips, and my arms were wrapped around his neck. With my mouth at his ear, I murmured, “Dancing isn’t something you should challenge me with.”

              Maybe a blinking contest. I really sucked at those.

              He shivered. Was he cold? The weather was pretty good, and I was usually the first to need a coat.

              It must be Taylor Swift’s birthday or something, because they were playing through all her songs. Asher took advantage of my distraction to crouch and flip me over his shoulder, so my back was pressed to his chest. “Try me, angel.”

              “Hey, we already watched dirty dancing!” A guy hooted at us to the tinkling laughter of his girlfriend.

              I blushed a tomato red, but Asher merely flipped the guy off with a good-natured smile. That was a pretty calm reaction for him, actually.

              “How about we save the dance-off for when there are less morons on the premises?” Asher held out a hand. “May I have a normal dance to this awful music?”

              “Hey!” I protested. “I like Taylor Swift. Well, I did anyway.”

              “What’s that?”

              Crap, had I said that last part aloud? “Never mind,” I said hurriedly. Placing my hand in his, I walled off the reasons why Swift’s saccharine romance songs had stopped appealing to me.

              Asher yanked me to him forcefully, so that I once again found myself pressed against him. Dang, he smelled fantastic. A spicy mixture of leather and soap. “Are you sniffing me?” Asher’s voice was laced with barely restrained laughter.

              Oh God. I had my nose flat against his chest and I was sniffing him like a dog. “No!” I denied vehemently.

              He chuckled, but let the matter drop, thankfully. With an elegant flick of his wrist, Asher had placed my hand on his shoulder and one of his on my waist. We started moving with the music.

              For a brief second, there was only Asher and I, suspended in time.

              “Lot’s closing!” An attendant hollered, shattering the bubble around us. “Ten minutes to leave!”

              Asher groaned. Quickly retracting my hands, I smoothed down my T-shirt in nervousness. What was that all about? Practice? It hadn’t felt like homework, that was for sure.

              This was so bad. So,
so
bad. I couldn’t allow anything except cool disdain or bare tolerance of Asher to govern my emotions.

              I had too much to lose.

              Asher gathered the blanket and beckoned me towards my seat. He started the car, and buckled in. The silence between us was heavy.

              He reversed when I spoke up. “Your headlights.”

              That earned me a bewildered glance. “What?”

              “Your headlights, you need to turn them on.”

              “Damn, I can never remember those things,” he mumbled, switching the bright twin beams on.

              Maybe he didn’t use them at night because he didn’t want anyone to notice him doing whatever it was he did with people like Trevor. Asher looked like a person who knew his way around in the dark.

              We were turning on a fairly empty street, and still neither of us had broken the silence. Crap, what if he thought I was being cold because I was mad at him? He was being nice and considerate. I doubted his head was filled with my turmoil. This was probably how he acted with all his friends.

              Since when did I start considering us friends?

              “Ivy,” Asher started and heaved a sigh. It was strange seeing the normally cool, flippant Asher this unsettled. “I didn’t mean to-”

              His phone buzzed and he cut off. He pressed the phone to his ear and didn’t speak a word. The person on the other side was talking up a storm, and from the high squeakiness I could hear, he was seriously worked up.

              Suddenly, Asher jerked, angling the rearview mirror and uttering a string of profanities that set my ears on fire. “How could you let his happen? I’m not alone, you idiot!” he shouted into the phone. I jumped, alarm beginning to kick in.

              What was going on?

              “Call Derek and Roach,
now
! I’m not alone,” he repeated, like that was of vital importance.

              “Got it. Fix this,” he said harshly before hanging up and dropping the phone in the console.

              “What is it? What happened?” It wasn’t my fault I sounded like I’d taken a puff or two of balloon helium. My nerves usually exposed themselves via a prepubescent squeak.

              The grim look Asher sent me didn’t bode well. Then, with absolutely no warning, he slammed his foot onto the gas pedal, and we went flying.