Heyo guys, it's Laugh, ready to get started!
So here's Day 1: 'Dance'
As a kid, Anthony danced a lot. It was just him throwing himself around, sure, but if you ask him, he was the next Micheal Jackson. But, growing up in a mixed ethnicity community, he was the brunt of plenty of 'white people can't dance' jokes. Maybe it just racked up insecurity deep down inside, to where, now, at age 27, the sheer thought of dancing mortifies him to his core.
"Do you dance?"
The words lingered in the air, before being interrupted by a loud crunch. As her hand drifted back in the bag, his mind cleared.
"Why do you ask?" He asked, sweat beading up on his forehead in worry.
She chuckled, and shrugged as she crunched again, and spoke through the crunch. "Mm-I don't know. You just always seemed like that kinda guy." She replied, leaning on the table.
Anthony shook his head, fiery curls waving ferociously. "No. No, no, no. I don't dance. I'm all left feet." He shot out, trying to swat the thread of conversation.
But, of course, he's dealing with Ema. She wasn't gonna let it go that easily.
"Why not?"
"Because I can't."
"Everyone can dance."
"Not me."
"Sure ya can. All it is is just moving your feet in a pattern."
"Well, I guess, but..."
"But what?
"Nothing, nothing." He said, shrugging in an attempt to deflect the question. But even Payne could've seen through that.
At this rate, Ema set down her bag of Snackoos and stared him straight in the eye, buffing out her right cheek. "What is it, Anthony?"
He waved his hand. "I haven't danced since I was a kid. I mean, I can, but I don't." He said, shrugging again. "Now, can we talk about something else?"
A silence lingered in the room, so poignant you could almost smell the tension.
All of it broke so suddenly.
"I wanna see you dance."
Her request would seem simple, if it wasn't so utterly terrifying to him.
"But why?" He asked, trying to find a way to defuse the situation and get him out of this.
"Because you can." She said. " I'll dance with you, if it'd make you feel better."
An inappropriate time to flirt? Oh, yes indeed.
"Well, most guys wouldn't turn down the chance to dance with a pretty lady, but I'm not a dancer, Ema."
"Doesn't matter, Anthony. Dance.
"Ema-"
"Shut up and dance, Anthony."
He stood up, and shuffled his feet in a circle. "That good?" He asked, ready to sit down.
She then stood up, and dragged him to the middle of the kitchen, with an empty space. Other cops and detectives looked up and gathered around, watching the two stand hardly two feet away from each other.
Ema, still holding his hands, then took a step back, and to the side, with Anthony mimicking her motions. He stepped with here, then slightly guiding the dance, leading her along in a bit of a swing dance. His heart soared as he danced, and he smiled widely, how free he felt.
As the onlooking cops clapped and cheered them on, he snapped back to reality, and broke off, shuffling away shyly. Ema seemed a bit disappointed, but still smirked, and grabbed her phone back from one of the other officers, looking at the video of him dancing.
He nodded his head, and walked off quickly.
God, he wished he didn't have to do that again.