Dance with Me [h.s] (Completed)

Chapter 13

On Monday I go to the studio to teach my morning preschool class and during my break I field calls from Carmen about the apartment. I tell her to take the bigger bedroom because she is contributing so much more furniture to the new apartment than I am, and she is saving me from my terrible roomie.

I teach my last dance class and then hurry home to meet the guys. They're already in my apartment (Zayn has a key) and have been loading boxes and furniture into the truck and van. My roommate wasn't too happy that I was moving out. She claimed she thought I was "happy" living there. She wasn't going to give me my damage deposit back but then I reminded her that she's technically not supposed to be subletting and she transferred the money to my account right away.

When I get to our new apartment, Carmen has already done so much that I genuinely feel tears spring to my eyes at this new living situation. She even bought flowers and put them in a vase and we pop a bottle of cheap champagne together. We buy beer and pizza for the boys as a thank you for all their help and we all celebrate Carmen and my's first night in our new place.

The following week is full of classes and training with Zayn. Our last competition before Worlds is in three weeks and if we don't place first, we have no shot at being in the top division.

I couldn't help thinking about the voice in the back of my head that told me our routines weren't good enough to win. It didn't help that voice had a British accent. Zayn and I had been doing the same tried and true routines now for six months. I tried to stick with something that was conservative and would appeal to the many older judges. I had been bit in the ass by being too risqué with my routine choices at the Worlds five years ago. I wasn't going to make that mistake again.

But this new Jive routine was objectively better. Even Zayn agreed. Was I just being stubborn not letting him coach us? Was he really the best choice to help us win?

Zayn frequently lets his hands linger on my skin, while we talk about our next steps. The look of beads of sweat on his chest and him breathing heavy, is making me think about quitting dance practice and taking him back to my place. I watch him in the mirrors of the studio as his eyes move to my ass when I dance past, him biting his lip. It's like his hand is itching to touch it and I really wish he would. But it seems as if he's handcuffed around me; never following his instincts or temptations, and it makes me feel like I'm not tempting enough. Like it's easy for him to resist me. I know I told him I wanted to wait for a relationship but I think we could have some fun in the meantime.

On Thursday, it's Fourth of July and Carmen and I go to the beach and spend the day suntanning before going home and hosting a little barbecue at our place before work. We invited Louis, Nicole and Angela, and also Zayn and Niall. Her and I decorated our little apartment with cheap red, blue and white party streamers and mini flags. We cooked too much food and drank too many beers and we were all thankful it was walking distance to work from our place.

I watched Carmen and Niall flirt as they kept taking red and blue shots, making their hands wander more. Zayn and I enjoyed watching him get louder and more Irish sounding (he was third generation) as the afternoon progressed.

We met a few of our neighbors as we were standing on our balcony while Louis had a smoke. We were happy to find that there were a lot of people close to our age living in the building and invited a few of them to the club later.

When If I Can't Have You by Shawn Mendes comes on the Bluetooth speaker, Zayn grabs my hand and pulls me into the kitchen while he mouths along to the words.
"Oh, I'm good at keeping my distance
I know, that you're the feeling I'm missing"
He keeps his bottle of beer in one hand and his other hand, twirls me a few times before landing on my hip and pulling me into him. I've had enough drinks to not overthink it and I throw my arms around his neck, holding on as we grind on each other.