His Gold ✓

6| New boy

     Bryce extends an empty hand in my direction, and I take it.

    His long fingers are warm around my hand as he pulls me behind him and into the crowd. Countless bodies move in a swell around the house-party speakers. I expect to feel nervousness lapping at my chest with its often-steady pulse. Instead, I just hear the pulse of the music.

     When we get to a spot on the "dance floor" (which is actually just the living room floor), Bryce turns to face me. He dips his head.

    "Let's see what you can do, Goldie."

    My lips tug into a smile. I sway, a little, shaking my head. "I thought you were the one that wanted to show off your moves?"

    "Oh please," he rolls his eyes, "I just said that to get you on the floor."

    Alright then. Without warning, I start to dance. My feet move in a familiar pattern- it's obvious why I'm a cheerleader. I've always been good with movement.

      Bryce can't keep his surprise contained. He laughs, clutching at his muscular chest with a hand.
"You're really good!" He exclaims with mega Camp Rock energy.

    "You're surprised?" I say, criss-crossing my legs before dropping down to the beat. "I told you I was a cheerleader."

    His shoulders rise; his dark eyes roll. "No offense, but that doesn't mean much."

   "Really?"

  "Meghan acts like the squad is her personal posse of runway-models. I'm not surprised she picked you out."

    Runway models? I stop moving with a scowl. She picked me for my looks? How shallow...

    I can't find it in myself to be surprised, though.

    Bryce narrows his expression. "You're not shocked?"

    I brush off my expression, tossing my hair behind a shoulder. "Of course not," I pretend to be confident, borrowing something Bryce would say for myself, "You really think I look like a runway model?"

    He smirks, running a free hand through his hair. I can tell my arrogance is well-received. He grits his teeth, holding in a laugh.

    "You can admit it if you find me funny." My lips purse.

     "If that ever happens," he leans closer to my face, "I will."

    Touché.

"Besides," Bryce sighs, "you're too short to be a model."

"I guess you've never heard of putting on stilettos?"

"You're right. I prefer to watch girls take them off- amongst other things."

I turn away from him, still dancing to the music. "Foot fetish alert!"

"That's not what I meant."

I ignore him, turning back to change the subject. "So, you know a lot about Meghan?"

     Bryce looks surprised at my curiosity. "Sure." His arms cross in front of his chest at the mention of my cheer captain.

     Now he's holding back. I decide to continue on.

    "I just noticed you seemed to know your way around her house pretty well."

    "Of course. I've never missed one of her parties."

    I purse my lips, "I didn't see you at tonight's game."