Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I smile. “I never said we were going to a concert. And I’m not telling you where we’re going until we get there.”
“I hate you. I really do…” She trails off, her cheeks flushing. “And I’m catching feels for you, LiBassi. Hope that’s okay.”
“More than okay.” I cup her face, dragging my thumb lightly across her bottom lip. “The feels are mutual.”
Her eyes go soft. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. All the feels.” I frown before I add, “Except the bad feels. Feels are just feelings right? I don’t usually do slang.”
She grins. “You’re cute.”
“Like an old man trapped in a young man’s body?”
She laughs again. “Exactly. But in a cute way. You’ve heard that before, I’m guessing?”
I nod. “From Stone, all the time. And Shane. And Yoda. And my ex. Before.”
Steph takes my hand. “I’m honored to be one of the people you’ve let close enough to know you.” She squeezes my fingers before adding in a whisper, “And yes, feels are just feelings. You’re doing great with the slang. Super natural.”
I grunt, she giggles, and soon we’re back on the bike, zooming south as newly minted boyfriend and girlfriend.
Twenty minutes later, I pull into the festival parking lot. Even from here, we can hear the bass thumping, and Stephanie’s arms tighten around my waist.
She raises her voice to call over the rumble of the engine, “I think I know where we are! Is this…” She trails off as we round the corner and the banner comes into view: BREAK FREE—PDX’s 15th Annual Break-Dancing Festival. “Yes! Oh my God, Tank, I was dying to come to this! Dying!”
She hops off the bike before I can even kill the engine, yanking off her helmet as she bounces on her toes on the dusty ground. “I love a dance festival! Any kind of dance! This is so amazing. How did you know?”
“I didn’t,” I admit. “But I remembered you asked me to dance that night at happy hour.”
“And you said no,” she teases, still beaming as she lets me take her helmet, strapping it onto the bike beside mine.
I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah, I don’t dance much these days, but…I used to compete with a break dance crew when I was in junior high. I was pretty into it. I thought it might be something we’d have in common.”
Her eyes widen. “Really? You used to break dance? Like, for real? You’re not fucking with me?”
I play up my scowl. “Why? Can’t imagine me shaking what my mama gave me?”
She laughs as she sways closer, her arms looping around my waist with an ease that feels just right. “Oh no, I can. I really can. I can’t wait to witness this wonder of the dance world first hand. Are there workshops? Places for ticket holders to get in on the action? Do I get to see you serve your moves?”
“Never,” I say, before amending, “At least not today. I haven’t windmilled in ages.” I hug her closer. “But there is a stage and bands playing, if you’re open to giving me another chance to dance with the hottest woman in Oregon.”
She nods. “Absolutely. I can’t wait.”
“Me, either,” I say, nodding toward the front gate. “Ready?”
“So ready.”
We spend the next few hours exploring every corner of the festival, Stephanie’s excitement contagious as she pulls me from one performance circle to the next. The fairgrounds are alive with energy—dancers breaking, crowds cheering, beats pumping through massive speakers that vibrate the ground beneath our feet.
“Okay, but how do they do that?” she asks for about the hundredth time, her eyes wide as we watch a kid who can’t be more than fourteen float across the floor. “It’s magic!”
“That’s an air flare,” I explain, grinning at her enthusiasm. “It’s all momentum and core strength. You could nail it in a month or so, easy. Maybe less. Your core strength is insane, and you already have a handstand. That’s the main starting move for…” I pause, catching the gleam in her eye. “What?”
“Nothing.” She bumps my shoulder with hers. “I like seeing you nerd out about something you love.”
“Takes a nerd to know a nerd, woman.”
She beams. “Absolutely. Tell me more about the air flare. Does it hurt your wrists? You’re right, my core is the stuff of legend, but my wrists start talking to me in Scorpion pose, let alone something like that.”
“I never had a problem, but you could always use tape if you need extra support. But usually, breakers start with baby flares and work up to an air flare. That gives you time to build up strength in the joints.”
“Can you still do one, you think?” she asks. “A baby flare?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t tried in years.”
She grins as she whispers. “Try one. Then teach me how to try one. I want to learn new things”