Page 61 of Lance

“Listen, asshole,” James begins, but Lance standsup.

“It’s fucking rude,” he growls. Then he looks down at me. “You want todance?”

“I—what?”

“Do you want to dance?” he asks again, enunciating each word. “I could use some space or I might just deck yourbrother.”

“Hey!” Jamesyells.

I stand quickly, jumping at the chance to de-escalate the situation. “Space sounds good,” I say, shooting James a warning glance. “Let’sdance.”

We don’t stick around to see how James responds to this, though I catch a glance of Haylee’s wide, surprised eyes as we slip out of thebooth.

“Sorry,” Lance mutters as he stalks away. I practically have to run to keep up with him. “I just get sick of him running hismouth.”

“It’s fine,” I say soothingly. He stops suddenly and I realize we’re on the dance floor. “Uh.” I was in such a hurry to get him away from the table that I barely thought about what he was asking, but now it hits me what I’ve agreed to do. “I don’t actually know how todance.”

A ghost of a smile lifts his lips. “It’s not hard. Just followme.”

There’s something slow and sultry coming from the speakers, I think maybe Beyoncé, but I’m way too nervous now to figure it out. Lance places a hand lightly on my waist, pulling me a little closer before taking my other hand in his. “You really just have to sway,” hemurmurs.

I swallow. There’s a good five or six inches between us, nothing to get too worked up about. But there’s something about his hand at my waist that’s making my throat dry. It would be so easy for him to just pull me against himand—

“Willa,” he says, shaking my hand in his. “Relax.” I look up at him to see that he’s smiling. “It’s a dance. Nothing is going to hurtyou.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever slow-danced with someone in my life,” I manage to squeakout.

“Not to burst your bubble or anything, but this is barely middle-school-level stuffhere.”

I laugh. “But I didn’t go to middle school,remember?”

“Ah,” he says, his eyes twinkling down at me. “You didn’t have school dances at GeniusIncorporated?”

“It was called the Discovery Learning Center,” I tell him. “And no, wedidn’t.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like a challenge. “Well…there’s a first time foreverything.”

Fully aware that I probably look awkward as hell, I move my feet from side to side, trying to follow the motion of hisswaying.

“So tell me about that movie Nia and Simon were watching,” he says, and I drag my eyes away from my feet to look athim.

“You want to talk aboutStarTrek?”

He laughs. “I want you to stop looking like rigor mortis has set in,” he says. “And in my experience, talking about nerdy space shit is the easiest way to get you tochill.”

I narrow my eyes. “Nice.”

Lance laughs again. “I notice you’re not arguing withme.”

I watch him for a moment, his face relaxed and seemingly happy, the polar opposite of the man who practically growled at my brother just a moment ago. “You’re moodytonight.”

He raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize laughing was a characteristic of beingmoody.”

“Moody as inexhibiting mood swings,” I say. “You keep flipping from happy to grumpy and back. Even earlier, back at the studio. I’m having trouble keepingup.”

He sighs and pulls me a little closer, ducking his head toward my shoulder so I can’t see his face. But the increase in our proximity is a pretty good trade-off, if I do say so myself. I would only have to tilt my head toward him a little bit to find my lips against hisneck.

“I’m happy right now, dancing with you,” he murmurs and my heart begins its familiar drumbeat. “I’m not happy when your brother is being anasshole.”