Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Holy shit, really? That’s a long drive.”
He shook his head. “Not too bad. Probably only another forty minutes from here.”
“I forgot how much you love driving,” I said.
“Whereas if you have to be behind the wheel for longer than ten minutes, you complain that your eyes are strained, your neck is broken, and your ass is falling apart.”
“It’s true, though,” I protested. “I’m just no good at driving.”
“Well, I’m happy to do it for the both of us anytime,” Mitch said. “For the good of your ass, of course.”
“My ass is very happy so long as I’m in the passenger seat.”
Mitch laughed. “Weirdo. You don’t make any sense.”
“I rarely do.”
“I love you anyway.”
Christ. This really was like being back in high school.
Because I still had to pretend that my dick didn’t throb to hear Mitch even jokingly talk about my ass.
And pretend my heart didn’t do a backflip every time he told me he loved me.
We walked into the Garden City Arts and Activities Center and Mitch told me to follow him to the big, all-purpose space at the back of the building. The center was sort of a catch-all for community events, so some rooms had performances, some had classes, and others held meetings.
“It’s in room 305,” Mitch said, and I followed him down the hall. We opened one of the big, wooden double doors to the room and immediately we were hit with a wall of noise.
We stared in and saw dozens and dozens of half-naked, sweaty bodies, all dancing and writing around to some upbeat electronic music. The room was a big all-purpose space, but it was completely packed.
Mitch backed up and let the door slowly shut in front of him. We waited in the hallway, and I stood grinning as Mitch walked a few paces down, looking at a monthly schedule that was posted on the wall nearby.
“Oh God,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.
I crossed over and looked at the schedule. For tonight at eight o’clock, the only thing on the schedule for room 305 was called “Interpretive Therapeutic Dance Church.”
I read the description out loud.
“Come wash away the stress of the week by moving your body in a judgment-free zone. Instructors are present to guide you, but Dance Church is not a strict class. Come here to sweat, find yourself, and be free.”
I looked over at Mitch, who was blushing red as a strawberry.
“Shit,” he said.
“You got us all dressed up like this to go to a sweaty dance party, huh?” I asked, teasing him.
“I… got the dates wrong,” Mitch said. “Apparently what I wanted to take you to happened yesterday. It was supposed to be a piano concert by Shiela Meng, performing her pieces that are based on the Fibonacci sequence…”
“Well, that definitely does sound cool,” I said. “I’m surprised you would be willing to go to that.”
“I don’t know what the Fibonacci sequence is, but I know it’s a math thing, and you like math things, and piano, and…” Mitch trailed off, faltering and running his fingers through his hair. “Shit. We just drove all this way for nothing.”
I eyed him. “Well, it doesn’t have to be for nothing…” I grinned.
The embarrassment left his face and was replaced completely with pure terror. “Oh no. No, no, no.”
I reached out and grabbed his hand. “Let’s just try it for ten minutes. Ten. I promise.”
“Not a chance in hell. Evan, we’re not dressed for this, and you know I don’t dance—”
“I know you don’t dance. I remember prom night.”
A tense moment passed where we were both silent. A lot of things had happened on prom night, some of which Mitch probably didn’t want to remember.
“Hey,” I said, my voice quiet. “All I meant was that I remember how afraid you were of dancing.”
He let out a slow sigh. “Still hate it,” he said. “And I hate that our date is ruined.”
My heart squeezed in my chest. Mitch was really taking this whole friend-date thing so seriously.
“I wish half the guys I went out with ever cared this much about the real dates I went on,” I said. “It’s not ruined at all. But it would make me so happy if you just came in there and tried, with me. Just think of it as a workout, maybe?”
“I already worked out twice today,” Mitch said.
I laughed. “Of course you did.”
He looked down at me. “If I go in there and dance with you, then you owe me a drink later tonight at Red’s.”
“We’re going to Red’s after this?” I asked.
He nodded. “My first shift is tomorrow night, and I wanted to go there with you as an excuse to start studying the menu.”
“Deal,” I said instantly. “I never need an excuse to go to Red’s Tavern.”
Mitch took a deep breath. “Okay. And I’m sorry, but you’re crazy if you think I’m ruining these clothes by doing any amount of exercise in them. You’re going to have to deal with seeing me in my tighty-whiteys.”