The Sun in My Eyes

8 Dancing at Dawn

The snoring was intense. A gasping, drawn out snort that that seemed to have an echo, as if two raging wild boars were arguing politics during family dinner.

Bobby stared at the ceiling. Even without the snoring he'd be awake. Back home he worked twelve hours shifts, five days a week as a hospital caterer. Getting up at 5am was second nature, no matter how much or little sleep he'd had. And he had not slept much. Someone in the villa needed one of those machines with the Darth Vader mask to help them breathe at night. His nanna had one, but he couldn't remember what it was called.

In the bed beside him, Ibrahim was wrapped in the entirety of the covers, his head under his pillow, one dark hairless leg sticking out from the cocoon of white sheets and blankets. Lili's side was empty. Maybe she'd gone downstairs to shower. That thought gave his exhausted mind a burst of energy, imagining what she'd look like wearing nothing but slick soapy skin and a cheeky smile. He groaned and reached down to adjust his stauner. "Wrong time, wrong place, lad," he whispered. To his cock. In a room full of people.

His life had taken a strange turn.

By the time he finished brushing his teeth and shaving, he'd managed to turn off the part of his brain that insisted on making naughty movies, all of them starring Lili. He left his pajama pants on and headed to the kitchen. It was too early for the camera crew, so the yard was silent.

Without a job to go to, he was a bit lost as to what to do with himself. So he made a brew and headed for the rooftop terrace to watch the sun rise and maybe practice his impressions. Never a bad time to work on his Mufasa.

The door was already cracked open when he got there. He pushed it the rest of the way with his foot. The table had been pushed off to the side and Lili stood in the middle of the terrace, her back to him, arms raised above her head, hips rolling sensuously as she danced. The soft sound of pop music came from a tiny iPod and a small speaker sitting on the table.

She spun around, and jumped when she saw him. "Oh my god, you scared me!" She dropped her hands to her hips, and laughed. "It's a bit early to be perving on a girl, don't you think?"

If only she knew.

His face burned. "Sorry, I didn't mean to do...that." He rubbed the back of his neck. "What uh, were you doing?"

"Taylor Swift dance party." She gave him a crooked grin. "I always dance in the mornings before work. Gets me ready for the day." She looked at the steaming mug he held. "Oh I'm sorry! You wanted a cuppa and some zen time." She reached over and turned off the music.

"You have me confused with Rocco," he said. "My name is Bobby. I'm much better looking and I've never used the word zen in my life." He sat on the bench and propped his feet on the haphazardly-placed table. He reached out a hand and gestured for her to continue. "I need to see this."

She shook her head. "Nope. I have a rule. You don't get to watch me dance unless you dance too."

"Oh, but I am no dancer."

"Everyone's a dancer," she said. "If you can move a body part, even a pinky, you can dance." She clicked her music back on. "You may not be able to do it well, but you can do it and that's all that's required for a roof terrace dance party."

"I'll pass."

She tilted her head and gave him a smile sweeter than any cupcake he'd ever baked. "Please?"

"Oh, that wasn't fair," he said.

"What? Asking please?"

"No that face. You did a thing."