Free Like Jazz by Heather Blackmore Page B

elegantly patterned in various shades of gold, red, and brown. Sarah turned on some music. She sat on the floor, rifling through her CDs, while I sat perched on her bed and we talked about our favorite bands. Conversation eventually turned to the following night.
    “How are you going to deal with it if Kip asks you to dance?” Sarah asked.
    “I already told him I’m not much of a dancer.”
    “I’m sure he’ll want to slow dance with you. You don’t have to be good to do that.”
    “Can we move on to the next subject, please?” I didn’t want to be talking about slow dancing with Kip with the only person I wanted to hold that closely.
    “No, we can’t. Have you slow danced before?”
    “I’ve watched people do it. It’s simple.”
    “Yes, but very intimate. You need to be prepared for what might be in store for you tomorrow. Kip’s a pretty affectionate guy, and he likes you. So unless you tell him not to, I’m sure he’ll be very affectionate with you. How are you going to deal with him when he gets in your personal space?”
    “I’ll figure it out if and when the time comes.”
    Sarah finished manipulating the stereo and a ballad came on. “You need to know going into it what you’ll be comfortable with. Are you going to let him slow dance with you?” She wouldn’t let it go.
    “I don’t suppose it’ll kill me.”
    “Knowing you, it might. Show me you can do it.”
    She gracefully stood and walked over to the bed, leaving meager dance-floor space between us. “Dance with me.”
    “No,” I said in a tone meant to convey she was insane.
    She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers in invitation. “I mean it. Show me you can take it.”
    “Perkins. No.” My voice was stern and deliberate.
    Sarah put her hands on her hips. “Don’t ‘Perkins’ me. If you can’t do this with me, someone you know and trust, then how the hell do you expect to be able to do it tomorrow? You need to get over your fear of being held or you’re going to be miserable.”
    “I’m not afraid of being held.” Not by you.
    “All right, my mistake. I meant your discomfort at being held.”
    “I don’t want to do this with you.”
    “You’d rather do it with Kip?”
    “I’d rather not do it at all.”
    “Exactly my point. But you’re going to have to, so you should try to get a little comfortable with it now, where it’s safe and quiet and no one else is around.”
    “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said through gritted teeth.
    “Great. Show me.” Sarah gave me the “come-hither” gesture with her fingers again. 
    I nearly growled. “Sarah.”
    “Come here.” She took my hand and pulled me off the bed, standing me in front of her. “If he slow dances with you, you’re going to place your arms around his neck, like this.” She took my right hand and draped my arm over her shoulder, following suit with the left. “And he’s going to put his arms around your waist, like this.” She slid her arms around my waist.
    My face was suddenly inches from hers and blood surged to my cheeks. I turned my head to avoid her eyes. I could smell that faint jasmine perfume she occasionally wore, and inhaling her scent made me want to give myself over to her completely. I kept myself in check and pulled my arms away from her neck, but she held me firmly by my waist.
    “Sarah, I can’t do this.” I was frightened she’d be able to feel my racing pulse and glean its meaning.
    “I know.” She reached again for my right hand and placed it back over her shoulder. “Which is why you should practice. Focus on breathing.” She moved my left arm back into position as well. Our heads were just above and past each other’s shoulders in the dancing embrace, our cheeks touching. Her breath tickled the skin on my neck, which sent shivers through me. Her breasts pressed against mine and our hips melded to each other, the heat of her hands around my waist scorching the skin through my shirt.
    My body was on fire