Cocking his head, his gazesoftened. “This isn’t high school, Molls.”
“Mean kids grow up to be meanadults, Chad.”
I must’ve struck a nerve becausehis neck went limp as he hung his head. “I guess that’s fair,” he mutteredbitterly.
He stood and grabbed his waterbottle, and I thought he was going to leave in a huff of hurt and anger. But helooked down at me, still lounging on the couch, and asked, “So, are youcomin’ or what?”
I stared at him, disbelieving.“Are youkiddin’ me? I just told you—”
“I know what you told me, butIwannashow yousomethin’.If you still feel self-conscious, I’ll let up and leave you alone, okay? Justgive me five minutes.”
Challenge flickered over hisgaze, and I cursed him under my breath. I rolled off the couch andtrudgedtomy room toget changed, because I would give him his five minutes. And,then, I wasgoing back to bed.
***
My apartment complex, Armadillo Gardens,was damn near picturesque. The lush landscaping, noteworthy amenities, andquaint architecture was what drew me to the place years ago. If it hadn’t beenfor that list of pros, the highway it sat alongside would’ve turned me away.But after nearly a decade of living there, I’d grown used to the cacophony ofcars, motorcycles, and sirens. Now it served as white noise on nights when Icouldn’t sleep. Or it was a buffer when one of my roommates decided to havewild sex in the room across from mine. But today, it was a source ofapprehension, as I followed Chad to the lawn. I let him talk me into wearing myleggings, but there was no way I was wearing anything tighter than a baggyt-shirt over a compression tank top and my most constricting sports bra. Notwhen I was so close toall ofthose people, whizzingby on the highway.
With my arms crossed over mychest, we came to a stop just before the sidewalk. I looked up at him as heassessed the area and nodded to himself.
“Okay.” I sounded breathlessand flighty. I was nervous, self-conscious, and good Lord, I couldn’t stand it.“What are we doing out here?”
He grinned, bright andcontagious. “I wanted to show you how I like to warm up.”
“I know how to warm up,” Ireplied, astute.
“Right.” He nodded and pointedup to the third floor. “You know how to warm up in there, behind your walls anddoor. I’mgonnashow you how I warm up out here.Okay?”
“Okay,” I grumbled nearlybegrudgingly.
“Now, the catch is, yougottado it with me. All right?”
“We just startedbein’ friends again, and you’re alreadytrynaget rid of me,” I muttered, but the laughter had already begun to twitch at mylips and crinkle my eyes.
“Come on. It’s fun, Ipromise,” he insisted, and with a weighted sigh, I agreed.
I copycatted my way throughall the stretches he performed. Gripping my ankles and lifting my legs behindmy back, I reveled in the delicious tug through my thigh and pelvis. I breathedinto the twist of my spine, the stretch of my shoulders, arms, and calves. Mynerves calmed and I enjoyed the morning sun against my face as I realized thiswasn’t so bad. Nobody was watching, and I could do this.
But then, Chad rolled out hisshoulders and pulled out his phone. He tapped quickly over the screen untilTaylor Swift’s “Shake It Off” was blaring through the small but powerfulspeaker. “Ready?” he asked, and before I could reply, he was already bendingand dropping his phone to the grass.
It was all at once comical andhumiliating, as my friend of six-foot-two broke out in dance on the side of abusy highway. He worked his arms and shook his hips like he was getting down ina dimly lit club. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he began to sing along loudlywith Taylor’s instructions to shake off the players that play, play, play andthe haters that hate, hate, hate. And he did it all, completely oblivious tothe rushing traffic and pedestrians passing by.
“Come on, Molls,” he heckled,clapping his hands three times to the beat.
“Oh, hell, no.”
I shook my head, but myprotests went unnoticed as he grabbed my hand and spun me around. He coaxed myarms to move, and after a few moments of tight-lipped grumbles and eye rolls,my feet started to shuffle left to right against the grass.
“You’re absolutelyridiculous.”
“You say that, but you’rekindalovin’ it,” he laughedbefore reciting a line about a fella withhellagoodhair.
And I was—loving it, I mean.By the end of the song, I was dancing unabashedly with him on the lawn ofArmadillo Gardens, without a single care given about who was watching, who waslaughing, or who was putting these moments away to tease me about later. It wasliberating and fun, and when the music stopped, my breathing was labored, andmy grin was wide and aching.
“Youalwayswarm-up like that?” My tone was tinged with laughter as Ibrushed the stray curls from my forehead.
“Nope. Never done thatbefore.” He bent and snatched his phone from the ground, as I stood there,gaping.
“What?Seriously?”
