un-beta’d, subject to change, etc.

“Then you’re ready.” He takes one of my hands in his and lays the other on his shoulder. “Step back with your right foot and follow my lead… And right-left-together. Right-left-together…”

The pressure he puts on my hand is just enough for me to know where to move and when to turn. Just as I’m starting to feel confident, I see Edward out of the corner of my eye.

Barefoot and wearing glasses, he’s leaning against a gilded wall eating Cheetos from the bag. He sees me watching him and, with his eyes fixed on mine, slowly sucks the orange powder from each of his fingers.

I trip over my feet.

Miraculously, I manage to keep dancing.

“Good!” the instructor says. “That’s exactly how you do it—no one will notice if you flub a bit unless you make a big deal out of it.”

Yeah, right. Then why is Edward laughing his ass off?

I lift my hand from the dance instructor’s shoulder just long enough to give Edward the finger.

He mouths the word, “Sorry.”

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