Announcing: Ivy Years
#4
The Shameless Hour by Sarina Bowen
Coming on or before
May 1st
The girl who’s had everyone meets the boy who has no one.
For Bella, the sweet-talking, free-loving, hip-checking
student manager of the Harkness men’s hockey team, sex is a second language.
She’s used to being fluent where others stutter, and the things people say
behind her back don’t (often) bother her. So she can’t understand why her
smoking hot downstairs neighbor has so much trouble staying friends after their
spontaneous night together. She knows better than to worry about it, but
there’s something in those espresso eyes that makes her second-guess herself.
Rafe is appalled with himself for losing his virginity in a
drunken hookup. His strict Catholic upbringing always emphasized loving thy
neighbor—but not with a bottle of wine and a box of condoms. The result is an
Ivy League bout of awkwardness. But when Bella is leveled by a little bad
luck and a downright nasty fraternity stunt, it’s Rafe who is there to pick up
the pieces.
Bella doesn’t want
Rafe's help, and she’s through with
men. Too bad the undeniable spark that crackles between the two of them
just can’t be extinguished.
I heard the
band start to play the classic one-two Merengue rhythm that I’d heard my whole
life. On the dance floor, the energy picked up as the geezers began to move to
the faster beat.
“Let’s go,”
I said, standing up. I offered Bella my hand.
But Bella
shook her head. Even worse, she scooted her chair toward the wall.
“Don’t leave
me hanging,” I said, my hand still waiting in the air. “Come on now. Nobody
puts Bella in a corner.”
On the other
side of the table, Bella’s sister snorted into her white wine.
Bella rolled
her eyes. Hard. “You did not just quote Dirty Dancing.”
I leaned
down near Bella’s ear. “I did. Now get your ass out of that chair, like the
girl in the movie, or I’ll have to put you in a fireman’s hold.”
Her mouth
tight, Bella stood up. Not one to waste an opportunity, I clasped her hand,
tugging her onto the dance floor. When we were right in the center, I put one
hand onto Bella’s waist and took her opposite hand in mine. She was as stiff as
a piece of wood. “Shake it off, chica. This is supposed to be fun.”
“Your job
tonight was to make my life less embarrassing. Not more.”
“I am doing
that. We’re going to be the best looking dancers on this floor, and everyone in
this mausoleum is going to wonder how I got so lucky as to be here with you.
Now listen to this rhythm, okay? Just step to the beat. And let your hips
absorb the motion.” I began to move to the music. The merengue is a Dominican
dance, and every kid in my neighborhood can merengue before his fifth birthday.
It’s just not that complicated.
With nervous
eyes, Bella began to move.
“Use these
hips,” I prompted, touching the silky fabric of her dress. As I watched, she
loosened up a tiny fraction. “Yes! But even more. You look great. I wouldn’t
steer you wrong. And think of pressing the balls of your feet into the floor.”
Biting her
lip, Bella moved with me.
“That’s it!
See? Nothing to it.” Just like that, we had a proper merengue going on.
“Can I sit
down yet?” Bella asked.
“Not even
close,” I laughed. “See, I knew you could move.”
Bella
pouted. “We’ve seen each other’s moves, Rafe.”
She lifted
her eyes, and the heat in them went straight to my dick.
Jesucristo.
That was the trouble with getting so close to Bella. I was always going to be
susceptible to her. Anything she did to remind me of that night was always
going to knock me right over.
“Ha.” She
said. “I finally found a way to shut you up.” Bella put a little more effort
into her merengue then, looking smug.
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