Page 30 of Call the Shots (For The Arena #1)
BEAR
TOASTED MARSHMALLOW SHOTS
When June said sorority party, I knew what we were in for. Either a giggling movie night where I’d play video games with the guys in the basement or one of those academic sororities where they gave you a paper cup of wine to discuss papers no one read. I went to both in North Dakota with my ex.
This party was nothing like either of those.
I climbed out of the van to see a mansion— mansion? —pulsing with music while colorful stars flashed on the paneling. People hung out of the windows, people were piled in the front yard, people laughed on the roof, everybody drinking, everybody yelling to be heard over the music.
“ Wooooah, ” Montoya whispered.
I stared. “What is this?”
We followed June like ducklings as she made a straight path to the door, shaking on its hinges. When she opened it, music blasted outside, and I gazed into the fullest house I’d ever seen, everyone dressed in togas, golden bands, and fake armor.
“ JUNE! ” the house roared together.
Everyone was ecstatic to see her, and it was goddamn difficult to stay by her side while she was passed from group to group to give hugs like a nun visiting an orphanage.
They did special handshakes and laughed at inside jokes.
June left the entryway for the grand staircase, covered with more people thrilled to see her.
She reached for Montoya’s hand and tugged him along while the rest of us stumbled to catch up.
Or…I stumbled.
“This is fucking awesome!” Nick yelled, grabbing a drink off someone’s platter.
“Don’t drink that—” Fridge tried to warn, but he downed it and threw the empty glass over his shoulder.
“Juno! Queen goddess!” a girl sang behind a wraparound bar at the top of the stairs, her hand on a whirling milkshake machine.
“Mell-o Jell-o shot!” June kissed the air. “Guys, this is Melody. She’s an editor for the school paper, she makes the best cocktails. Can I get a round?”
“And no garnish for you, I know the routine.” Melody took a closer look at us. “These aren’t Romans?”
“Not football, they’re hockey.”
“We have a hockey team?”
Nick frowned. “We were on the news. People have to realize that’s hurtful.”
Melody placed a round of glasses in front of us and dumped thick, chocolate milkshake into all except June’s. When Montoya went for his, Melody shooed him away and topped them off with marshmallows, toasting them with a handheld burner.
“Everybody to the dance floor!” a voice called through the speakers. “Countdown to line dancing!”
I was the only one confused. Everybody else cheered.
“We have to do line dancing,” June told Montoya, and I started to ask Fridge what the fuck was going on, but Fridge was gone. So were Nick and Elijah, the three of them joining a conga line down the stairs.
I froze. I had no idea what to do.
In North Dakota, I went to parties. I drank beer with my teammates while my ex did navel shots and Wade fucked puck bunnies upstairs. Then we’d pile into a truck, and I’d count the road signs flying by in the darkness, thinking ‘ this is it? ’
Nobody line-danced to hip hop. Nobody made marshmallow drinks. Nobody did any of this.
“First time?” Melody asked, shaking a whipped cream can.
“Uh…yeah.” I took a hesitant drink. “Fuck, that’s good.”
She laughed. “You look like you need another.”
“Whatever’s strongest, I don’t need the marshmallow.”
“Anything for June’s boys.”
“I’m not—uh—” I paused. I mean, June did bring me here and landed me free drinks. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
I drank shot after shot because I needed to be pretty drunk to handle this. At least fifty people were line dancing in the living room, sliding and jumping together. I could see June teaching Montoya the moves, so he’d stop accidentally hitting people in the face.
I swallowed my next shot before my eyes inevitably returned to June.
The white dress— toga thing? —was sheer enough to see the dip of her hips, where it tightened over her breasts, and the plunge of her neckline.
A golden crown of leaves rested over her hair.
Pinned up before, it now hung wild around her face as she rocked her hips, stepping with a rhythm that was a mystery to me.
I ran my tongue along the back of my teeth, watching her.
Watching only her.
Xavier’s words played back to me. You think she’d take a two-second look at you in the real world? The truth was, I wasn’t like any of these guys. I wasn’t comfortable here. I didn’t belong in June’s world.
Some dude pushed his way to her. They were talking—why were they talking?
Who the hell is that?
Before I could think about how many shots I’d gone through, my feet worked faster than my brain. I found him at one of the bars downstairs. Drinks in hand, he tried to pass me. “Watch where you’re going?—”
“Are these for June?” I asked. When he nodded, I easily pulled the drinks from him. He cursed me out, but I got in his space. “She has a boyfriend. Do me a favor. Fuck off.”
The crowd finally finished line dancing and moved on to a slower R&B track. Nick danced behind June. Both drinks easily fit my hand, and I grabbed him by his toga, yanking him back to take his place.
I stood there, motionless, as June leaned against me. Fuck. She wasn’t grinding on me, but the movement spread warmth through my chest.
June glanced up and stumbled. “ Bear? ”
“I brought you a drink.”
“What?” She blinked. “How drunk are you?”
“Drunk?” I paused. Did my words usually slur? I couldn’t remember. “Not that drunk. I’ve been drunker. Drunken…er.”
“You’re trashed.”
“You aren’t sober.”
She rolled her eyes, cheeks flushed. “I didn’t say I was.”
“Are you keying Xavier’s car or something later?”
June took a long drink. “I don’t want to talk about it, let’s party.”
“I can help with the keying.”
“We’re going to dance and eat pancakes with Montoya. That’s what I’m thinking about.”
“I want to help?—”
“He’s your stepbrother, I don’t want to involve you.”
“I want to be involved,” I insisted.
June gave me a long look, finishing her drink. “Take your grumpy facade down for a night. It’s your teammate’s birthday. Forget about the coach we have to get rid of, forget about the team’s problems, forget about your stepbrother. Dance your little heart out, Bear.”
I shuffled to the wall. “I’m not dancing.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t dance.” I admitted before I could stop myself. Shit. I was way too drunk.
“Who cares?” She tipped her chin to Montoya, jumping up and down with sorority girls. “If Montoya can do that, you can dance.”
“It’s bad, June.”
“How bad?”
“They’d kick me out.”
June burst into drunk laughter and it was better than any song the party played. She hummed, contemplating something before she twirled two fingers in the air. “Show me how bad it is.”
I was just drunk enough to show her. If I was sober, I would’ve never done that, but I liked her laugh.
It was very pretty. Like June.
“Wow, your dancing is bad,” she giggled. “I know what you’re doing wrong. You’re dancing to the words, you need to dance to the tempo.”
“Tempo?”
June hesitated before tugging my bed sheet towards her. Goosebumps prickled my skin.
She bit her lip. “The size difference makes this a little…”
“No, it doesn’t.” I pulled her closer.
Careful, Bear. She has a boyfriend .
The neon stars flashing across the dance floor lit up her face and her eyes settled on mine. They were usually such a startling green but now, they sparkled purple and pink with the lights. I dipped even closer to study the colors.
“Tempo is the underlying rhythm,” she whispered. “You find that, that’s what you dance to. Like this.”
My heart pounded in my throat while June swayed. It was hard to remember I had to copy the movements, I just wanted to focus on her, but I moved with her, watching us together.
She nodded. “That’s better.”
Her dress was so soft, it was like catnip to drunk me.
Careful, Bear .
This wasn’t bad. It wasn’t. We were dancing. That’s it.
“You were right. I was wrong.” I ran my thumb over her hips, trying to memorize them. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say.”
“Say it again.”
My hand crept up the curve of her back. “You were right. I was wrong.”
“Again.”
“You were right,” I breathed out. “I was wrong.”
The song ended as someone yelled from the backyard. “Who the fuck brought Tickle Me Elmo?”
Oh, shit .
June and I glanced back at each other at the same time, blurting the name together, “ Montoya! ”