A Summer Like No Other

Chapter 2 - Nick

Em tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, again and again, her mouth slightly open and her chin tucked in—clear signs she's either angry or disappointed or both, but trying very hard to keep it all bottled up inside. The last time she looked like this was right after her father got fired. And my chest tightens, remembering how sad she was, how she couldn't even look at me for a few days.

But then, she squares her shoulders and stares right at me. My gaze drops to her lips. Lips that are so fucking inviting I should get a prize for not asking if I could kiss her. Only once. Only to taste those lips.

She snaps her fingers in front of me. "And why should I go?" she asks, putting a hand on her waist. "I was here first, Mister Entitlement."

And she's back, ladies and gentleman. I tilt my head to the side—going for the innocent, I'm-so-nice look. "I didn't know." That's a lie. Roberto told me where she was and yes, I had to rehearse, but I could have waited.

"But when you saw me dancing, you could have used another room. It's the best one, but it's not the only one." I can almost see her pump her fist in the air, because she thinks she found the solution—a way to prove me wrong. Her life mission, apparently.

"It is the only one open right now. They're remodeling the other ones." I pause. "I wasn't joking. You looked amazing." I've only seen her dance like this one other time. Like today, she was alone in a rehearsing room, and she completely lost herself to the movements. She's usually so put together, so serious about dancing, too much of a perfectionist to portray and communicate the emotions to the audience.

Her body was one with the music.

And she was hot.

She is hot. And...the wrong brain is taking over.

"Thanks," she replies, blushing and glancing everywhere but at me again.

I clear my throat, tempted to forget my promises to Roberto, tempted to forget I only do short-term relationships (ones with expiration dates), tempted to forget everything but her.

The crush I've had on her ever since she beat me at Mario Kart last year wearing shorts which showed her long legs has grown bigger and bigger. Kind of like me now.

I shift around. "Anyways, there are rules." I sound like a dick. But there are rules I need to follow. Not the rules I'm talking to her about, but rules nonetheless. Strict rules. Not the ones her brother—my best friend—gave me, but my own.

Never fall for a girl. Never fall for this girl.

"And since when do you follow rules?" She stretches on her toes, goes back down, stretches back up—she's mesmerizing. And now I sound like an idiot.

She continues talking. "Apparently, since you decided the Hamptons weren't cool enough for you this year, we're going to have to share this room for the next few weeks. You can't come in here and tell me I'm done rehearsing simply because you said so."

"Did you sign your name on the sheet?"

"What sheet?" She stays on her toes and glances around the room.

"Online. There's a calendar of reservations for the rehearsal room, and it's been mine for the past twenty minutes. I was actually very generous to let you keep on dancing."

"Generous, my ass."

"Are we really having a discussion about your ass?" I tease her.

"You're impossible," she grunts, throwing her arm in the air and leaning against the mirror.