Dance
(verb)
Moving or swaying to music
EX: She wanted to dance when the song played.
…
Wednesday
…
We stared at each other, both unwilling to give in. Carly was still talking with Frau Morgan, her German teacher. It was the perfect opportunity for our Cowboy-style face off.
I slowly moved toward him in an arced motion. He followed suit.
We circled each other, both determined to have their way. Finally, he spoke.
"Come on, Sam! What's wrong with practicing at my house?"
I gaped at him, appalled that he was so daft that he didn't know. "Your mother, you stupid dorkwad!" I smirked, "I thought you were the smart one."
He narrowed his eyes, "You're the one who practically BEGGED me to dance with you!"
A couple stragglers stared in confusion. Why would Sam Puckett want to dance with Freddie Benson?
"You want to keep your noses?" I barked at them, "Then GO AWAY!"
Freddie jumped and the audience scattered.
"Benson, I won't say it again. We are not practicing at your house. I suggest you not argue."
He opened his nebbish mouth in retaliation.
I cut in, "I am a Puckett, therefore, whatever lame thing you say next is void."
He glared at me, "I can't practice at your house! Your mom is a psychopath!"
He had a point there. But Pucketts never back down. I always win. Always.
"And yours isn't?"
Before Fredamame could respond, Carly spoke.
Huh. When did she get here?
"Guys! Knock it off. Why don't you practice at my place?"
We looked at each other and shrugged.
"Okay."
…
"You behave. Sam, don't kill Freddie. Freddie, don't kill Sam."
I laughed, "He couldn't if he tried."
"SAM." Carly warned. She looked at us pointedly, then went upstairs to study.
I waltzed over to Carly's CD player and stuck my disc in. The wonderful music of Dean Martin filled my ears and I smiled. It might be old, but I loved his music.
I whacked the button until it got to "Sway". (A/N: I love this song SO much. PLEASE look it up. It doesn't matter which version-They all rock.)
"Come on, Fredclutz. Let's dance!"
"Fredclutz", he muttered, "That's a new one."
He joined me behind the couch, awkwardly putting his hand on my waist.
I took his hand, pressed up against him, and we began to dance.
He had practiced. I could tell, because he wasn't stepping on my feet at much. He swung me to the left and I almost hit Spencer's bottle bot. I laughed as he whirled me back against him.
"Not bad, nub. Not bad at all."
He dipped me and I laughed even harder. It's hard to explain why. I suppose it was the music and the amusing fact that Freddie wasn't that bad a dancer.
All of a sudden, Freddie looked up and dropped me.
"Ouch! You idiot! What the hell, Freddie?"
Then I realized what he was staring at.
Spencer.
Spencer looked troubled. He glanced at us awkwardly. "Ummm… hi."
I stood up and whacked Freddork upside the head. "Calm down. It's not your mother."
He frowned.
"'Sup Spence?" I asked casually.
"Ummm…"
"So I guess Carly didn't tell you, huh?"
"I thought you were dating Matt."
I rolled my eyes, "Max. And I am."
He looked at us in confusion and I realized what he was thinking. Oh, crap. That's why Freddie looked so freaked. Spence thought this was a date.
"Spence, we're just dancing for the talent show. Max can't 'cause he broke his leg. You really thought I would date… THAT?"
I gestured to Freddie, then shoved him over.
"Hey!"
"That's for dropping me."
He scowled and pulled himself off the floor.
Spencer looked embarrassed, "I'm just gonna… go take a bath now."
"Whatever."
He left and I turned the music back to the correct song. The nub and I resumed dancing.
We were doing pretty good. Very good, in fact. I was shocked at Freddie's overnight improvement.
We almost finished perfectly, but Fredwad ended up stepping on my foot again, tripping me. I fell over and glared at him. He pulled me back to my feet. We started the song over and tried again. And again. And again. And AGAIN. Every single time, Freddie managed to screw up and I always ended up on the floor. We continued this cycle for almost two hours.
"Ugh!" I yelled as I was dropped on the floor again. "Can't you do this right JUST ONCE?"
He smiled apologetically, "Sorry."
He picked me up and we started the song again for the millionth time.
I took his left hand while his put his right around my waist.
"If you screw up this time…"
I left the threat open-ended. It was scarier that way.
Once again, we moved around the floor with the music. I spun, swung out, and was dipped several times. It was almost perfect. Obviously there were places that needed to be fixed, like the part where Freddie and I dance separate. But I expected that. Over all, it was really good. Much improvement.
"Sway with me!" Freddie sang with the last line of the music. I burst into laughter and screwed up some steps, tipping us off balance on the last few notes and causing us to fall over the couch.
I kept laughing until the song ended. Finally, I caught my breath. That's when I noticed our position.
I was lying on the couch with my head hanging off and my feet propped up against the back of it. That wasn't the problem.
Freddie was laying the same way, but he was on top of me.
Pinned under him, I could feel the tension in the room. I didn't really know what to do.
I glanced at him, admiring his perfect brown eyes. They were exactly the color of meatballs. Sometimes I wished Max's eyes were brown like meatballs instead of green like lettuce. I hate lettuce.
"Freddie. Get. Off."
He scrambled off me. I wondered why he stayed there in the first place.
He stood at the door, clearly debating whether he should run.
I flipped over so I was sitting right side up.
"Practice is over. You can leave now."
He seemed grateful to escape the awkward tension that had settled over the room.
Thank God that Spencer hadn't come in then.
…
Better? Do you love me again?
Good.
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