Chapter 10
Twerk Like Nobody's Watching
I've never been one to enjoy dancing in public. However, I do break out with some pretty funky moves in my house. Alone. This usually takes place after I've had my nightly shower. Alone. I'm not too familiar with the music they play on the radio these days as most of it's loud and you can't understand a word of any of it. But toss on a little My Sharona or Stayin' Alive, and I'll get down with the best of them. So when I'm asked to dance, especially coming from Edward, it nearly sends me into a panic.
"So what do ya say, Isabella, want to head on over next door and see what kind of trouble we can get into?"
Trouble. That word alone gives me the hives. First of all, I've never been into trouble a day in my life. I was always taught that a lady, especially if she wants to stay one, never puts herself in a situation that she would get a visit from the police and she always keeps her legs closed unless she's using the restroom or procreating. Nana Swan was a wise woman. I mean, look at me. I'm young, healthy, and I've never seen the inside of the penitentiary.
"I probably should be getting home," I reply. "I have a lot of things to get done."
"You have nothing to do, Swan," Rosalie pipes up, never once looking over at me as she continues to give Emmett big, fat googly eyes while he continues to stuff his face with his meat platter. "It's Friday. Organizing your socks can wait."
Out of the corner of my eye I notice a slow smile spread across Edward's mouth.
Holy frijole, where did that dimple come from?
"Well," he says, running his fingertip across my pinky. "I could always come over to your place and help you organize your socks, if you want."
You know that feeling you get in your chest where it feels like everything is tightening and then that feeling travels up your neck and then it feels like the veins in your neck are about to explode? I wonder if that's a heart attack because if it is, I think I'm having one right now.
I take a deep breath and weigh my options for two point two seconds before looking over at my date before saying, "The gonorrhea factory it is."
Five minutes later I find myself surrounded by bikers, half naked women swinging around carelessly on stainless steel poles, disgusting cigarette smoke penetrating my nostrils, and a smiling Edward who looks like he just hit the jackpot.
"So, Isabella, you ever twerk?"
What the heck is a twerk?
Until Next Time...
OzellaMarie