Page 39 of Chasing the Dream

“So, what did you order us for dinner?”

“Pizza.”

“Another one of my favorites.”

“You can just pick off the olives.”

Her eyes went wide, and he chuckled. “Kidding. It’ll be a while before it’s delivered, so why don’t we get started?”

She opened her laptop and started reading him her notes. He tried to concentrate, but his mind kept drifting to thoughts of them dancing together and the way her body had molded so perfectly to his.

They’d danced together once before, at his cousin’s wedding, and as he recalled, it was at his mother’s urging. Maria had been dancing with some young guy, and Morgan had been sitting alone, watching them.

“Why don’t you ask Morgan to dance?” his mom whispered in his ear.

“I don’t want to.”

“But she’s sitting there all alone.”

Morgan had become such a common fixture in their household that his parents had begun treating her like one of their own kids. At that moment, it irked him.

“I’m sure she would like to dance with you. She’s just too shy to ask.”

Gabe narrowed his eyes at his mom, but knowing how persistent she could be, he finally gave in.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked Morgan.

She looked up at him, her expression a mixture of horror and surprise, and he instantly regretted asking her.

“We don’t have to. I just thought…”

“No. I mean, yes. I’ll dance with you.”

She followed him onto the dance floor, and he weaved his way through the crowd to find a space far away from his mother’s watchful eye. It was enough that he’d agreed to dance with Morgan; he didn’t need his mom staring at them the whole time.

He’d danced with girls before, but dancing with his sister’s best friend felt strange. At first, they stood and stared at each other while he was deciding where to put his hands. Finally, he placed them on her hips, thinking how bony they felt beneath his palms.

Morgan tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders, and then they began to move. If he’d been dancing with someone else, he would have pulled her closer, but this was Morgan, and it almost felt like he was dancing with his sister.

“Are you having fun?” he asked, feeling like he should say something.

She shrugged. “It’s okay. I don’t really like parties.”

He might have guessed that about her. She was relatively quiet compared to a lot of the girls he knew, and she always seemed content to hang around with Maria and one or two others. He also knew how much she liked to read. When she and Maria weren’t gossiping about boys or experimenting with their hair and makeup, he often found them curled up somewhere reading. In contrast, he enjoyed a good party, especially if there were beer and girls.

“I thought all girls liked weddings.”

“Oh, I like weddings. I just don’t like this part. If I ever get married, I’m going to have a small wedding with only my closest friends and relatives.”

Somehow, while they’d been talking, they’d moved closer together, and when her pelvis brushed against his, it startled him. Yet neither of them pulled back. For the rest of the dance, he was acutely aware of the points of contact between them. Her hands had slid behind his neck, and he felt her fingertips graze the ends of his hair. Her smallish breasts brushed his chest, and he caught the sweet scent of her perfume, shampoo, or body wash. He suddenly felt dizzy.

“Are you okay?” She eyed him curiously.

“It’s hot in here. I think I need something to drink.”

When the slow song ended, he immediately let go of her.

“Thanks for the dance,” she said, but he was already walking away, leaving her standing alone on the dance floor.