Page 107 of Taking Sides

Whitney tenses, and I bury my face in her shoulder to keep from laughing.

“Must be hearing things,” I manage to say with a serious expression. “What time is Erin going to be here?”

“She’s not. We called things off.”

“Like for tonight?” I ask cautiously.

“For good.”

“Oh shit.” My grip on Whitney loosens. “I’m sorry.”

I barely manage to get the words out before D-Low dismisses it with a shake of his head. “Don’t be. It’s for the best.”

“What happened?” Whitney asks him.

“She wanted to be exclusive, and I wasn’t feeling it.” He frowns. “Maybe I’m an idiot. She was great.”

She did seem like a cool chick, but I never would have said the two of them together were great. I’ve known D-Low for two years now. He’s dated a lot, but I’ve never seen him with someone who I felt like he was really into. I never had a barometer for it until now, but he doesn’t seem as consumed by the women he’s with as Trav is with Hannah or Galaxy with Ruby. Or me with Whitney. Fuck. I’m one of them.

But regardless of how I felt about the two of them, it’s the longest relationship he’s had. That has to sting.

“Do you still want to go out?” I ask him.

“Nah. You two have fun.”

Whitney glances back at me as if trying to gauge if we’re on the same page. She gives me a small smile, then says, “Why don’t we just hang here?”

“That’s a good idea. I could invite the rest of the guys over.” That way he doesn’t feel like he’s a third wheel. Been there. Done that.

“It’s okay. I don’t need a pity party,” he says, but he perks up just a little.

“It’ll be fun,” I insist. “No pity involved.”

“Okay. Fuck it. Party at our place.” D-Low lets a smile loose.

After I text all the guys, I grab beers from the fridge.

“Galaxy and Penn haven’t responded yet, but Trav said he’s waiting for Hannah to get home, and they’ll be over if she isn’t too tired from training.” I hand Whitney a beer, then one to D-Low.

D-Low twists off the cap. “Sounds like we’re on our own.”

“They’ll be here,” I say with a high level of confidence. I told them just enough that they know it’s important. “What should we do in the meantime?”

Whitney gasps, then looks from me to D-Low and back as she grins wide. “We can finally watch Dirty Dancing!”

Two hours and a twelve-pack of beer shared among the three of us later; the rest of the guys still haven’t shown, but I’ve mostly forgotten about them.

Whitney sits on the floor in front of the TV and D-Low and I are a few feet away, holding onto each other in some sort of dancer’s pose.

“This is dumb,” I mutter. “I should be leading.”

“I’m teaching you how to lead.” D-Low holds my right hand at eye level and his other rests firmly on my left shoulder blade. “Notice where my hands are and how my shoulders are back and down?”

He’s enjoying this a little too much.

“Now you try.” He drops his hands and then I do my best to mimic what he did.

“Nice,” Whitney says encouragingly from the floor. “Are we ready to try it with music?”