6

"Dance for me," he said.

Scarlett giggled, but the laughter become soft and tapered off as she took in his facial expression.

"I can't dance," she said. "I'm... terrible. I have all the style and grace of a greased up, three-legged warthog on an ice-rink."

Maybe it was the vivid mental image that made him snort with laughter. He looked her up and down with suspicious eyes.

"Adrian said you are a cheerleader," he sternly pointed out.

"Oh God," Scarlett covered her head with her palm. "Only because Sienna forced me. Little Miss Gymnastic gold champion has to take every opportunity to show off her limber frame. Meanwhile, you have me in the background, tripping over my own feet like a hopeless lummox. You’d think I’d have some sort of natural grace!"

He burst into laughter again.

"Show me a routine," he demanded, staring up at the ceiling.

When Scarlett dropped her shoulders in defeat, about to begin the silly cheer, Riley sat up on the bed and waved his arms.

"Woah, woah, woah, sweet ch