So You Think You Can Dance?

Cheap Thrills

So, here we are ... starting a new story. I'm dreaming that it's summer time and the favorite thing about summer time, besides the longer days and warmer weather is the return of my favorite show, So You Think You Can Dance? I love it ... the beauty, artistry and athleticism is amazing. Plus, the music they play? Damn ... makes me happy.

Up next will be the next group of dances and some drama with Alice (perhaps a chance to revisit her POV).

Chapter Seventeen: Cheap Thrills

EPOV

Bella stayed at the house after the elimination, helping Rose pack up her belongings. I knew that Rose's elimination was going to be hard on my girlfriend, but she didn't show it outwardly. If anything, Bella looked more determined to win. However, I was concerned for her and wanted to be there for her, supporting her the best way I could.

Just not tonight.

As I sat on my couch, watching the news, there was a knock at my door. Heaving my body off the sofa, I opened the door. Emmett was fidgeting with his watch and blushing furiously as he danced on my doorstep. "You okay, man?" I asked.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Sure. Do you want something to drink?" I asked, ushering him inside.

"Got any scotch? Bourbon? Tequila?" he quipped. "God, I fucked up. I soooooooo fucked up."

"Emmett?"

"Just something strong," he nodded absently. I shook my head and found a bottle of whiskey that Alistair left in my apartment from my welcome basket. I grabbed two tumblers and poured us each a glass. Balancing the bottle and the two glasses, I sat down on the sofa, next to my friend. He swiped one tumbler and downed the drink, pouring himself another. "Thanks, Edward."

"Why are you so anxious, Emmett?" I asked. "Is everything okay? What did you fuck up?"

"You know Rose?" he replied, slugging down the whiskey and pouring himself another glass. "Rose. My partner Rose. The Rose that hates my guts because she thinks I'm a sexist pig? That Rose? Bella's best friend who got eliminated? Her? Rosalie Hale?" He was totally rambling and I was concerned.

"Yeah," I drawled out.

"We fucked," he blurted, slamming his drink and grabbing the bottle. He chugged a few gulps, grimacing. "Damn, that burns."

"Slow down, Emmett," I said, taking the bottle away. "Drinking is not helping. You and Rose had sex?"

"No, we fucked. It was all anger, emotion and animalistic fucking," Emmett replied. "Rose lit into me because I dropped her during our American in Paris routine. She had every right to be pissed. We'd kicked ass on that lift during rehearsals, but something just didn't mesh when we performed live. After the show, she started yelling at me and I told her to calm down. She narrowed her eyes and grabbed her shit, walking to my car and getting inside.

"I drove us to my apartment and she continued to scream at me. I yelled back and the next thing I knew, we were pawing at each other like animals and clothes were flying all over the place. I fucked her on the couch, shocked at how tight she was. Oh my God ... it was heaven being inside of her. Then, we went to my bedroom and fooled around, fucking some more and we crashed," Emmett sighed, scrubbing his hands through his short hair.

"And why are you freaking about this?" I asked. "I thought you liked her."

"Number one, I didn't use a rubber What happens if she gets pregnant?" Emmett said, wrinkling his nose. "Number two, it was the best god damned sex I'd had. Ever. Rosalie Hale is my fucking dream girl, Edward and she hates my fucking guts. Gimme the bottle, damn it."