Not So Unwilling: Chapter Twenty

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Well, I hope you enjoy it!


Chapter Twenty

We pulled up into the driveway of Tim's house and there was this huge black Yukon parked in the spot we pulled in next to. It looked like the kind of car a member of the mob rides around in.

"Shit," muttered Tim. He was clutching the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were turning white.

"What?" I asked. What was wrong with him?

He glanced at me. "Nothing." He let go of the steering wheel and pulled his keys out of the ignition. "Let's go."

"OK," I said, getting out of the car and following him. Instead, of going in through the front entrance of the house like I expected, we walked around the back of the house to the backyard. Tim led me to a smaller building behind his castle, which was about the size of my house.

"What is this?" I asked, as he pulled out a key from underneath the mat and unlocked the door to the building.

He opened the door and led me into the darkness of the place. "It's my mom's dance studio."

He flipped on the lights and I was amazed at what I saw. It was a legit dance studio with mirrors all along the walls and a huge stereo set in the left corner with speakers attached to the ceiling all around the humungous room. The building was literally a gigantic dance room.

"Wow," I said, running my fingers along a wooden bar and looking at my reflection in the walls made out of mirrors. I looked absolutely hideous with my hair all crazy up in its messy bun and my face all clear of makeup. My legs were completely covered in cuts and bruises and I had an ace bandage sloppily wrapped around my left knee. It had popped out of the socket again thanks to my huge hips not being aligned with my knees so I was forced to wear the stupid thing. "Why do you have a dance studio in your backyard?"

Tim came up behind me and smiled at me in the mirror. "My mom used to be a prima ballerina. Now she teaches dance here."

"Wow, that's so cool that your mom was a prima ballerina," I said, "When I was five years old that was my dream."

"What ruined it?" He asked. We were staring at each other in the mirror.

"I grew up and decided that ballet was stupid and decided I wanted to be Brittney Spears instead," I said, remembering the simpler days.

He laughed. "Is that still your dream?"

"No, my current dream is to be Lady Gaga."

He laughed again. He was so sexy when he laughed. His eyes would get all bright and he would flash his nice, white teeth. Not to mention he had this small little dimple on his left cheek. It was so cute. "Oh, really. Why's that?"

"Well, Lady Gaga is just awesome. I mean no one ever knows what she's going to do next. She might show up wearing a suit made out of meat or she might put out a song about riding discosticks. Who wouldn't want to be like Lady Gaga? She's like the most original person on the planet."

Tim smiled sexily at me. "Wanna ride my discostick?"

I scrunched up my face and turned around to face him. "Tim, I swear to God, for a second I actually start to think that you're a normal, nice guy and then you have to say something like that and totally ruin it."

"I can't help the way I think, JJ."

I muttered some things about him being a horny, sex-crazed butthead and walked away from him to go check out the stereo system. I flipped through various records that I'd never really heard of before. Most were classical songs, like Claire de Lune and Fur Elise. Those two were the only ones that I actually knew the names of. I wasn't much for classical music.

All of a sudden, a song came on through the speakers. I didn't recognize it. It was definitely a slow song. A piano played softly and I detected a little flute. Tim grabbed onto my shoulders and turned me around to face him. "Have you ever slow danced before?" He asked.

"Yeah, but not like fancy slow dancing," I said. The only real slow dancing I had done was back in middle school and junior high when we would go to cluster dances with other schools and since no grinding was allowed, girls and guys would slow dance instead. But I was pretty sure that wasn't the kind of slow dancing that you did at a fancy ball.

"Have you ever grinded before?" He asked with a mischievous look on his face.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yes, I have."

He smiled. "Would you grind with me right now?"

"To this music? I don't think so."

"What if I changed the song?" He looked hopeful.

I rolled my eyes at him and grabbed his hands and led him to the center of the dance floor. "Stop thinking with your dick and start teaching me how to slow dance, Timmy."

"I'd prefer you not call me Timmy," he said, scrunching up his nose when he said the name, "I don't particularly like the nickname."

"Well, that's too bad, Timmy. You have nicknames for me, so I'm allowed to have some for you."

"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes, "Let's dance."

He put one hand on my waist and guided one of my hands to his shoulder and then clasped our other two hands together. "OK, now follow me."

"Oh my God, Jasmine, will you stop stepping on my feet?!" exclaimed Tim as we tried the dance for about the 100th time.

I couldn't get the steps right, so I kept stepping on his feet and stumbling. I even fell on my ass a couple of times. Dancing was just not my thing.

"Sorry," I said, removing my foot from his and positioning myself correctly again.

"You're a soccer player. Doesn't that mean you're supposed to be graceful with you feet or something?"

"How does being graceful having anything to do with soccer?" I asked.

"Well, isn't difficult to kick around a ball with two left feet."

"Haha," I said sarcastically, slapping him on the arm with the hand I was supposed to have on his shoulder.

"Seriously, Jasmine, this is the easiest dance. If you can't learn this how are you going to learn the harder ones?"

I sighed and removed myself from position and sat down in the hardwood floor. I buried my face in my hands. "I don't know, Tim. I'm just not a good dancer. Do we have to dance at the ball?"

"Yeah, it's a tradition," he said. I heard him sitting down across from me.

I took my face out of my hands and looked at him. "What is this ball anyway, Tim? Who has balls anymore?"

He sighed. "Well, my family first started the ball back in 1901 and it became tradition ever since for the Lenoir family to throw a ball for all family. It's kind of like an annual family reunion. Everyone comes together and dances, eats, drinks, and gossips about each other. It's quite the event. And about the dancing, well, it's a Lenoir tradition for all the males and females to do the Waltz, the Polka, and the Mazurka."

"Why do I have to do it with you? Can you just like dance with a relative who knows how to do the dances?"

He looked at me with those blue eyes. "Yeah, but I want to dance with you."


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Thanks so much


Mel Bell <3

btw if anyone knows wtf is the mazurka and how you do it, please tell me bc i hv no idea!

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