Read Online The Bad Boy's Dance by Vera Calloway - Free Book Online
Authors: Vera Calloway
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front door was! Instantly, I made a beeline for the door, only to have it nearly smack me in the nose.
A woman staggered through the door, crashing into me. I barely kept myself upright, catching her in my arms. “Ma’am? Ma’am?” I asked, shaking her a little. Did she pass out? Was she hurt? Oh, why didn’t I pay more attention in Health class!
Thankfully, Asher appeared. His eyes widened when he saw me supporting the woman before his mouth pressed into a flat line. Wordlessly, he scooped her into his arms and carried her up the spiral staircase, the light tapping of his shoes echoing in the cavernous house.
Picking a seat that would leave me near the door, I folded my legs under me while I waited for Asher. It took him a few minutes to descend, and his face was a mask when he did.
He sat across from me and waited. For some reason, his stance was stiff and he looked anywhere but at me. What did he think I was going to do? Geez. I was curious who the woman who had fallen into my arms was- at this point I was thinking his mother or his sister, I hadn’t gotten a good enough glance at her- but I wasn’t going to hound him if it was a sensitive topic. I knew how annoying prying could be.
“Did you want to watch the Step Up with Channing Tatum? I think that was the best one,” I mentioned, breaking the tense silence.
He finally looked at me, and disbelief was evident in his eyes before he replaced the mask once more. He quirked a brow. “Got the hots for Channing Tatum, hmm? You know I’m way better-looking that he is, right?”
“Please,” I scoffed. “Tatum isn’t my type. Too…pretty.”
Asher, though, was more darkly handsome. The tousled midnight hair, black leather jacket, and the devil-may-care attitude tied his bad boy persona up quite nicely.
He chuckled before standing and sauntering over to the hallway. Against my will, I found myself admiring the way his jeans fit. Nice.
“You coming or are you going to ogle me all day?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin, and my cheeks heated. “I wasn’t ogling you!” I said defensively, but he had already resumed walking, a cocky smile on his lips.
“Douchebag,” I muttered sullenly, quickening my strides to keep up with his longer legs.
“I heard that!”
We spent another two hours watching Step Up with Channing Tatum. About five seconds into the movie, Asher got bored and thought a good distraction would be flicking kernels of popcorn at me. I think he was keeping a scoring system. Five points if it got tangled in my hair, ten if he hit my nose, and fifteen if it somehow found its way down my sweater.
By the middle of the movie, I was one freaking kernel away from strangling him with my bare hands and beating him bloody with that fancy remote.
“Would you cut it out?!” I shouted belligerently. His response?
He tossed another kernel at me.
Oh, it was on, Grayson. Smiling at him sweetly, I scooped a handful of the Raisinettes I’d grabbed from his mini-bar (his house was cooler than the White House, I swear) and hurled them at him.
His expression was priceless. A cube of chocolate had stuck to his forehead, and it left a chocolate-y trail in its wake as it slid to his chin. Can you blame me for laughing like there was no tomorrow? It was the kind of laugh you couldn’t stop either. Like if you didn’t, that bubble in your chest would explode and you’d melt into a puddle of hysteria.
“What is wrong with
A woman staggered through the door, crashing into me. I barely kept myself upright, catching her in my arms. “Ma’am? Ma’am?” I asked, shaking her a little. Did she pass out? Was she hurt? Oh, why didn’t I pay more attention in Health class!
Thankfully, Asher appeared. His eyes widened when he saw me supporting the woman before his mouth pressed into a flat line. Wordlessly, he scooped her into his arms and carried her up the spiral staircase, the light tapping of his shoes echoing in the cavernous house.
Picking a seat that would leave me near the door, I folded my legs under me while I waited for Asher. It took him a few minutes to descend, and his face was a mask when he did.
He sat across from me and waited. For some reason, his stance was stiff and he looked anywhere but at me. What did he think I was going to do? Geez. I was curious who the woman who had fallen into my arms was- at this point I was thinking his mother or his sister, I hadn’t gotten a good enough glance at her- but I wasn’t going to hound him if it was a sensitive topic. I knew how annoying prying could be.
“Did you want to watch the Step Up with Channing Tatum? I think that was the best one,” I mentioned, breaking the tense silence.
He finally looked at me, and disbelief was evident in his eyes before he replaced the mask once more. He quirked a brow. “Got the hots for Channing Tatum, hmm? You know I’m way better-looking that he is, right?”
“Please,” I scoffed. “Tatum isn’t my type. Too…pretty.”
Asher, though, was more darkly handsome. The tousled midnight hair, black leather jacket, and the devil-may-care attitude tied his bad boy persona up quite nicely.
He chuckled before standing and sauntering over to the hallway. Against my will, I found myself admiring the way his jeans fit. Nice.
“You coming or are you going to ogle me all day?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin, and my cheeks heated. “I wasn’t ogling you!” I said defensively, but he had already resumed walking, a cocky smile on his lips.
“Douchebag,” I muttered sullenly, quickening my strides to keep up with his longer legs.
“I heard that!”
We spent another two hours watching Step Up with Channing Tatum. About five seconds into the movie, Asher got bored and thought a good distraction would be flicking kernels of popcorn at me. I think he was keeping a scoring system. Five points if it got tangled in my hair, ten if he hit my nose, and fifteen if it somehow found its way down my sweater.
By the middle of the movie, I was one freaking kernel away from strangling him with my bare hands and beating him bloody with that fancy remote.
“Would you cut it out?!” I shouted belligerently. His response?
He tossed another kernel at me.
Oh, it was on, Grayson. Smiling at him sweetly, I scooped a handful of the Raisinettes I’d grabbed from his mini-bar (his house was cooler than the White House, I swear) and hurled them at him.
His expression was priceless. A cube of chocolate had stuck to his forehead, and it left a chocolate-y trail in its wake as it slid to his chin. Can you blame me for laughing like there was no tomorrow? It was the kind of laugh you couldn’t stop either. Like if you didn’t, that bubble in your chest would explode and you’d melt into a puddle of hysteria.
“What is wrong with
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