Roomie Wars Box Set

Several couples have gathered on the dance floor to join the bride and groom. I don’t know how to waltz and still remember my ill-fated prom dance with my dad which resulted in me tripping on my dress and face-planting the floor. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life.

“I don’t know how to slow dance,” I murmur, embarrassed.

“But you fast dance?”

“That’s different. I have two left feet. Trust me, you don’t want to dance with me.”

Drew drags me to the dance floor, not allowing me to hesitate any longer. I lift my hand to meet his and slowly place my other on his shoulder. I’m conscious of my steps, careful not to trip and to follow his lead. The pace of the music is slow, some song I haven’t heard of, and trying to dance intimately with Drew seems very natural. He doesn’t allow me to fall, holding on to my waist tight enough and taking the lead. I find myself enjoying the dance, even more so when the music switches and The Bangles Eternal Flame which blasts through the speakers. Without thinking, I rest my head on his shoulder and sway softly to the music.

“I love this song,” I say to myself.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a classic,” Drew follows.

I lift my head off his shoulder surprised by his comment. “You mean you’ve actually heard of it? Mr. Never-Listens-To-Anything-That-Isn’t-Played-In-A-Club?”

He stills, holding on to my waist tightly. His face saddens, but he quickly covers it with a smile. “The woman who raised me for a few years used to play it a lot. I remember that.”

“You mean your mother?”

It’s callous of me to use that word considering he’s never spoken about her before. Drew’s dad had mentioned her a few times, but like most men, he didn’t want to dig up the past. I knew she was around for a couple of years before she passed away.

“I guess you could call her that,” he says painfully.

I’m not sure what to say. He’s finally opening up to me, here on the dance floor amid a classic Bangles’ song.

“Drew,” I whisper softly. “Despite your parents divorcing, she’s the woman who brought you into the world and is your mother.”

“She may have brought me into this world, Zoey, but she didn’t raise me.”

“She didn’t have the chance to. You can’t blame her for that.”

He doesn’t say another word, pulling me in close to his chest. I think about his words and how easily f

ate had intervened and stolen from a little boy something that most of us take for granted. A woman we called Mother—Mom. I want to ask him more questions, learn more about what he’s feeling but am quick to see Jess dancing with some floozy only a few feet away. His eyes are on me, tortured, yet taking a turn at playing this game we call ‘who could make the other more jealous.’

Drew turns his head, immediately spotting Jess. At this moment, I feel guilty for making Drew play along but I’m brutally interrupted as he moves his hands away from my waist and places them on the sides of my neck planting a kiss on my lips. There’s still no tongue, just a soft, sensual kiss, enough to make my skin tingle and leave me breathless.

My arms move around his waist, and without thinking, I pull his body closer to mine and press my lips harder onto his. With Drew, it all seems so easy, maybe because we are friends. I feel at ease kissing him, and when he returns my kisses, I don’t stop him.

In fact, I want more.

To taste him.

To feel his soft lips.

And maybe, just maybe, the roll of his tongue against mine.

The music turns to a faster song changing the mood on the dance floor. We pull away from each other but still keeping our bodies close. We dance to some song Drew seems to enjoy and is singing along to, and for a brief moment, he places his hands on my butt as if we’re a couple.

“Nice move, Baldwin.”

“Nice ass, Richards.”

I let out a small laugh. “I like this song.”

“But it’s Bruno Mars. He’s way too modern for you.”

“Maybe I should change. You know, mix up my taste.”