Damaged

Page 21

I bump him with my shoulder. “You’re a dork, you know that?”
“Is it because of the dancing?” Peter asks, seriously, trying to figure out why people would say that about us. He looks baffled. Peter pushes his hair out of his face. It’s damp and curling at the ends.
“Are you kidding?” I ask and he shakes his head. I smirk at him. “It’s because you’re hot. There’ll be rumors about anyone you talk to unless they see you dating someone, and even then… well, people are stupid. They talk even when there isn’t anything to talk about.”
“Did they say things like that about Tadwick?”
“Tadwick wasn’t hot. You are.”
“And whose opinion is that?” He’s grinning at me. Peter bumps me with his knees.
“It’s the word on the street. Personally, I think you’re a little too muscly and tan. I prefer my men frail and pasty. Sorry, Charlie.”
“Peter. My name is Peter. Damn, Sidney. You can’t even remember my name.” Peter’s smile deepens and I can see a dimple on his cheek. They’re so cute. He is pretty to look at. I glance at a flock of girls behind him on the bleachers. There’s a pool of drool on the floor. They are all staring, their mouths gaping like Swedish Fish.
I get up and smack Peter in the arm with the back of my hand. “Come on, professor. I want to dance until I can’t stand up.” I bound across the room with Peter on my heels. I stop and turn suddenly. He nearly slams into me. Time freezes for a moment. The air feels hotter, the night feels electrified. Peter lifts his hand. I press my palm to his. The touch is charged. I feel it down to my toes. I grin broadly. I can’t help it. And we dance.
Peter’s hands are always in modest places, but the way his hands slide over my skin and glide over my dress, well, it feels like he owns me—like I’m his to control. It’s weird. I’ve danced before, but this feeling never emerged. I danced to get away from my ex and my family. They weren’t interested. It was a place to find my balance and learn to endure my life. But Peter changed that. I’m no longer enduring. I’m laughing, sweating, and spinning. I don’t shirk away from his touch, either. That’s new. When we first started dancing together, I enjoyed it—I can admit that—but his hands made me nervous. Now they make me comfortable. I feel stronger, better.
The music moves faster as the tempo changes. We’re laughing and some of the students stop to watch us. Peter asks as we dance, “Ready?” He wants to do a throw.
I nod. I expect him to lead into the steps, but he doesn’t. Instead we step into each other and Peter spins me back and pulls me to him. I grin. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Just wondering why you trust me with throws but not—”
“Death spins? I think it has something to do with the word death.” I laugh. The music pulses through me. Peter winds me around him and under his arm, then he snaps me back to his chest.
“I think I could convince you.” He smiles down at me and twirls me across the floor. We separate for a few steps before he reaches for me again. I’m back in his arms. There’s a not much space between us. Peter holds me so close that we’re nearly touching.
“I’m not wearing a helmet.”
He laughs. “You’re so stubborn.”
“You’re so not going to throw my face at the floor.” I grin at him. Peter holds up his palm and pushes on my back. I follow, moving under his arm. The music is in the right spot to lead into the aerial.
“Are you holding out on me or are we doing this?”
Peter yanks me close and my hips slam against his. My heart is pounding way too fast. “Let’s do it.”
Peter leads me into the move, and I follow. A twist, a turn, and he pulls me hard. I roll over his back with my legs splayed. My skirt flares and I land on the floor. I duck, and Peter swings his leg over my head before he pulls me up into a twist. I slip up from between his legs, and he lifts me by the waist. I continue the move and kick. I feel the momentum as I swing upward. I’m smiling way too big. My stomach has that free-fall feeling as I come rushing back down.
Peter executes the move perfectly and my legs fly around his waist. His hands cradle my back as dips me backward. The music stops. We’re both breathing hard. The silence becomes more noticeable. Peter holds me for a moment. The club starts clapping and Peter sets me down. He nods at me, as if it was a demonstration. Then, he goes into safety issues with those kinds of moves and invites the more advanced dancers to learn some of the steps we just did.
A girl walks up to Peter. He holds out his hand and dances with her. That’s when I realize that sharing isn’t my thing. Peter looks beautiful, all rumpled and smelling like heaven. Stuffing my nail-clawing instincts back into the crazy part of my brain, I grab a bottle of water from the cooler. I watch him show a few girls the moves in slow motion. There are some guys there, too. He shows them where to put their hands and how to lead the steps.
I guzzle my water and walk the perimeter of the room, trying to cool off. After a while, I head toward the open door. The night breeze feels good on my skin. I step outside. The sky is deep indigo, like a bottle of ink. There’s a speckling of stars tonight. I lean against the cool brick wall, feeling the rough stones through the thin fabric of my dress.
A few moments later, Peter comes out. “Dinner?”
“Sure. I didn’t get a chance to eat, yet.”
“Good.” He nods and heads back inside.
I’m standing there for a while, cooling off, when Tia strolls out. “Hey, that was so kick ass. Where the hell did you learn to dance like that?”
I grin. “I don’t know. If you want something bad enough, you learn how. I thought it’d be fun, so I figured it out.” I shrug and take a drink from the bottle. “It isn’t as hard as it seems.”
She nods and takes a drink from her own bottle. “Every time I think I’m in shape, I find out that I’m not. God, and no wonder why everyone is saying Granz is hot. He is a da-ahm fine piece of ass.”
“Yeah, he’s got a great ass.”
I don’t realize what time it is. I don’t realize that anyone is behind me.
“Thanks, Colleli,” Peter says, tossing me my stuff. It smacks me in the stomach, but I catch it. “And all this time I thought you were saying I was an ass. My mistake.”
My face turns red and my eyes go wide. Peter doesn’t stop walking. He keeps going, heading toward the parking lot. I shove Tia lightly. She’s laughing at me. “You suck,” I hiss. “You knew he was there.”
“Yeah, I did. It was perfect. I had to.” She’s laughing, guzzling water from her bottle, nearly choking.
“I’ll get you back. Just wait.”
“Go ahead and try!” Tia yells, as I sprint across the parking lot toward Peter’s car.
I duck inside, out of breathe. “I didn’t say that.” I feel the need to clarify as I click my seatbelt.
“I didn’t hear anything, I mean, besides the comment about my super-fine ass.” He laughs and looks over at me. “I can’t figure you out. You act like we’re friends, and that’s it—then, you go and do stuff like that. You’re baffling.”
“Baffling? No, I think you’ve got the wrong word. I’m…” my eyes cut to Peter, as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road. I slump back into my seat and let out a rush of air. “I don’t know what I am. A train wreck. A mess. Damaged goods. Pick one. Or all three.”
He shakes his head and smiles. “You’re a hot mess, an enigma, a poem—all raw emotion with nothing held back.”
I blurt out a laugh, because he couldn’t be more wrong. “With nothing held back? I hold everything back.”
“No, you don’t. You’re clear as crystal.”
“You’re insane.”
“And that’s how I know that I’m right. You do that a lot, you know?” I look at him. I have no idea what he’s talking about. Apparently, he can tell that I don’t follow. “You talk that way when I get too close to the truth. You get defensive and call me names. It means that I’m right.”
“It could just mean that I think you’re an ass, and nothing more.” I’m about to say I told you so when Peter glances at me. From the look on his face, I can tell he’s not going to let it drop.
“Are you attracted to me, Sidney?”
The question makes my stomach jump up my throat. I can’t look at him. I feel my face getting hot, along with the rest of me. I manage to blurt out, “What the hell? Who asks that?”
“Uhm, I did. Are you attracted to me? It’s a simple question.” Peter glances at me, and then back at the road.
Thank God it’s dark. I’m pretty sure my face has exploded into flames. I want to tell him that he’s a bad, bad, man but that sounds too juvenile, so I say, “You’re such a jerk!” I cover my face with my hand and look out the window. My pulse is roaring in my ears. I feel Peter’s gaze slip over my neck for a moment. Why does he do this to me? So what if I think he’s hot? It’s not as though we can do anything. It doesn’t matter. But still, I’d rather not say it.
“Well, that looks like a yes. Should I tell you what I think of you?”
“I don’t care,” I mumble, still looking out the window.
“Oh. Well, then I won’t tell you.” He’s grinning, driving into the darkness to the restaurant on the other side of town.
I expect him to continue teasing me, but he doesn’t say anything else. The silence spans between us and my mind latches onto the last thing he said. Now, I really want to know what he thinks of me. I can’t believe he can sit there quietly and not tell me. I flick my eyes toward him. Peter is still driving with that infuriatingly sexy grin on his face, as if he knows exactly what he did.
I stare at the night sky and wonder why that question bothered me so much. Of course I’m attracted to him. Of course he already knows that. We nearly slept together. But that’s not it. It’s not what he knows that scares me. It’s what he doesn’t know. I’m attached to him. Given the choice to hang out with Peter or Millie, I’d choose Peter. He understands me better. He’s become my best friend. It doesn’t matter that he’s my boss or my teacher. I feel comfortable around him. I’ve grown accustomed to his voice, his face. Every time Peter steps into the room, every time he swings me around in his arms, I feel peace—no it’s beyond that—I feel happy. My stomach sinks as I wonder what that means.