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“My mom’s on my case about med school again. Every day it’s something with her, and I get that she’s excited, but can’t she even give me a week without shoving it down my throat?” I stuff my phone into my back pocket, trying to keep my throat from getting tight. “Every time I think about my future in school for the next like, fifteen years of my life, pursuing a career I don’t even want, I feel like I’m going to break out in hives.”
Dean says nothing, and I’m a little self-conscious under his thoughtful gaze. Finally, he says, “Give me your phone.”
“What?”
He holds out his hand expectantly. “You heard me. Give me your phone. Tonight is going to be a worry-free, phone-free night. I’ll keep it safe for you, and my swim shorts are already dry, so don’t worry about it being in my pocket.”
Is it that easy? Just hand the phone over to Dean and ignore it and everything it symbolizes for the night? I don’t want to think about it, and I don’t want it to sour my mood more than it already has.
Hesitantly, I pull out my phone and drop it in his outstretched hand. “Promise you won’t jump into the pool with my phone in your pocket?”
He slides the phone into his front pocket. “Fun fact, Dylan’s done that about five times in the last year alone. Once he even hadmyphone.”
I giggle at the mental image. “That’s not reassuring.”
“I promise I won’t jump into the pool with your phone,” he laughs, and the heaviness in my chest eases, as if the weight of my phone in my pocket was actually weighing me down. But just because it’s not on me doesn’t mean I’m not still thinking about it, still wondering how I’m going to survive those MCAT courses without wanting to pluck my eyeballs out, still contemplating just how miserable I’ll be for the rest of my life if I go down this path.
Before I can spiral any more, Dean notices something behind me, then grabs my hand. “Time to cross the next thing off the task list.”
I’m frowning, my thoughts consumed with all things med school even as I ask, “Which one?”
He pulls me through the crowd with determination, throwing a “You’ll see” over his shoulder.
The music is already pretty loud, since speakers are spread out evenly throughout the area, but it somehow gets even louder when we reach the open space where the DJ is set up. People are dancing there, and it seems like a little outdoor night club, except we havespaceto dance and aren’t being jostled around every which way from overpacked bodies.
Still holding my hand in his, Dean walks right into the middle of the dance floor and up to a group of three other couples.
To my surprise, Naomi is there with the guy from the club and the pool. Thomas, maybe? She waves at me as we get closer.
“Hey,” Dean says, his easy smile putting everyone at ease.
“We challenge you to a dance-off.”
What?
I’m so shocked I almost rip my hand from Dean’s as I turn to stare at him incredulously.
“Hell yeah!” one guy says. Another high-fives Dean’s free hand and says, “You’re on, Dean.”
So I guess they know Dean. He’s so charismatic he’s probably made friends with everyone at the resort. Naomi catches my eye and exaggeratedly bulges her eyes out at Dean’s hand in mine, then winks, like we’re sharing some kind of secret, like she knows I feel something more than just our connected hands.
Since I can’t exactly tell her how sparks appear everywhere his skin touches me, I settle for turning to Dean just as he’s finishing talking to one guy and pulling me some distance away from the group.
“Dance-off? Dean, I don’t know if I can do it.”
He gives me an amused expression. “What? Of course you can. It’ll be fun. Plus, we’re in it together.”
I’m about to protest that people will bewatchingwhen the DJ fades the current song into a Maluma one, the one I always sing with Faye.
Dean registers my sharp intake of breath and the way my hips move slightly of their own accord.
“See?” he says. “It was meant to happen.”
This is it. The big, bad dance-off Adam thought I was incapable of doing. But here I am. About to do it. In front of all these people. With Dean.
Before I can think too much about it, Dean uses our connected hands to throw me away from him then spin me back toward him, the action taking me by surprise and causing a giggle to escape. He catches me, hugs me close to his chest, which is already dry, and starts moving, while my feet automatically match his steps. He spins me around again and catches both my hands in his, and we move together to the music, falling into an easy partnership where I follow his lead. Everything but the music and Dean falls away. I don’t hear the people around us; I don’t care if they’re all looking at us; all I’m focused on is the music and the way Dean’s body moves with mine, the way he grins down at me and the way my chest feels light. All I can do is laugh as Dean spins me again. I don’t care how big and cheesy my smile is as all my previous worries and fears melt away. Just a few minutes ago I was panicking about my bleak future, and now the tightness in my stomach is replaced with a pleasant sore feeling from laughing so much. His hands land on my waist and my arms wrap around his neck as we dance, and as he gazes into my eyes, realization hits.
“I know what you’re doing,” I tell him, biting my lip to hide my smile.
