Page 19 of Studfinder

“We can’t stay here,” Rita snaps.

“Why not?” I question, pulling my phone from my pocket and wondering if I can get cell service. I send a quick text to Nolan, hoping it goes through to him.

“We just can’t,” Rita says, placing her hands on her hips, but her sight drifts to the window once more.

“You go right ahead and leave.”

“I can’t leave you here alone,” she reminds me.

“Afraid I might burn the place down?” I ask, an edge to my voice.

“That isn’t funny,” she remarks, and I have to agree.

“I guess you’re stuck, then. And if you think you’re not, your SUV will be if you try to peel out in this downpour.”

“Ugh.” Rita tosses herself on the opposite end of the couch, which crinkles under her slight weight and the plastic underneath us. I scroll on my phone, finding it won’t power up to data, but I have another idea.

“How about some music?” I don’t wait for her reply before I find my downloads and click a song. Music reminiscent of the 1980s fills the dark living room, and I spring upward.

“What are you doing?” Rita’s voice still holds an edge, but I’m not letting her sour my mood. I start moving to the beat with a little hop left and hop right, kicking out my feet to match. The lyrics begin, and I start to sing along, ignoring Rita as I dance around the room.

“You’re acting like a nut,” Rita says over the music, but her voice holds more humor.

“You wanted to see my moves, so I’m showing you.” Continuing to dance, I turn to her. “Dance with me.”

Rita crosses her arms from her position on the couch. “I don’t dance.”

“Everybody dances,” I tell her, singing with the lyrics and then changing them when the chorus hits. “Rain on me,” I belt out, and Rita laughs.

“Those aren’t the words,” she teases, but I continue singing off-key and ad-libbing the refrain to match our current situation. The song is actually “Take On Me” by A-ha. It’s got a bouncy beat, and my feet match the rhythm.

“Rain on me,” I draw out again, holding out both my hands and wiggling my fingers at Rita, implying she should stand. She waves a hand at me and turns her head, but she can’t fight a grin. I do a spin and slide side to side, holding my hand at my waistline. I love to dance, and I haven’t done it in years. I also want to make Rita smile and wipe away whatever has her in a bad mood. My show carries on until the end of the song, and then I bow. Rita laughs harder and gives me a slow clap.

“Alright.” Reaching out for her hand, I catch one before she claps again and pull her upward. She stumbles into my chest, and I grab her other hand.

“I can’t dance,” she states, holding out her ankle to show me her hiking boot, but I kick out my foot to show her mine. Rita huffs, closing her eyes while I remain holding her hand in mine. “No, really. I can’t dance, as in I don’t know how.”

I stare, disbelieving her. “Rita. That can’t be true. Everyone can dance. It’s like sex. You just know how to do it, and you use your body in almost the same way.”

Her mouth falls open as I glance down at myself and sway my hips, lifting an arm for the back of my head.

“First off, handsome. If that’s how you have sex, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” She laughs. “And second, I don’t do that either, so I wouldn’t know.”

I stop moving and stare at her. “You don’t do what?” I ask, swallowing around the fear of what she’ll say next.

“I don’t have sex.”

Mother of all things holy. My eyes widen, and Rita’s mood sobers again. “I mean, I know how, but I haven’t . . . and the last time just wasn’t . . .” Rita pulls at her hands and slips free of mine, but I capture one of her wrists to keep us connected.

“Relax,” I say quietly, stroking my thumb over the veins at her wrist. “We’ll take it slow.”

“I am not having sex with you,” Rita blurts, and I’m the one to let out a snort.

“As if,” I state. “I meant we’ll take the dancing slowly.” Not releasing her wrist, I lift my phone again and scroll through my music. Finding something I think she’ll like, I smile slowly. Adele’s “Set Fire to the Rain” fills the room. The song is all Rita. She’s fire, and I’m rain, and I’m burning for her. I turn the volume down a bit, then toss the phone to the couch and place my hands at Rita’s hips.

“Just follow my lead.”

“This is stupid,” she mutters.