53. Chapter 53

Alex doesn’t dance.

Not anymore.

But Maggie talks while they play pool – could be why she always loses – and one night when M’gann throws on some early 2000s pop in the bar, Maggie gets to talking about dancing.

About how she and her best friend in high school – a gay boy, the only other out kid in her school, in her town – used to sneak out in her truck in the middle of the night, drive an hour and a half out of town to the nearest gay bar, and just dance.

Her eyes scream of how she misses it, and Alex distinctly does not miss her dancing days, but dancing with Maggie would be… different. Dancing with Maggie wouldn’t be drunken and desperate to feel something, to feel anything, to feel enough.

Because dancing with Maggie? Would be perfect.

So the next night she doesn’t tell her where she’s taking her. She just tells her to dress hot and she picks her up on her Ducati and she doesn’t stop until she parks in front of a gay club with music pouring out of the doors and thrumming into their veins.

Maggie gasps and Maggie grins and Alex smirks when Maggie’s jaw drops as Alex unzips her riding jacket to reveal the barely-there halter she’s sporting underneath.

She smirks even more when she tugs Maggie onto the dance floor, when she starts to move and Maggie just freezes, because my god, Maggie has been watching women dance since she was too young to know why it felt that good but fuck she’s never seen anyone move quite like this.

Because Alex’s hands are above her head, her fingers are running through her hair and down her neck, her hips are made of the most graceful fluid, and her ass is making every single woman turn and stare and sigh hopelessly when they realize that the entire time, Alex is looking at no one, Alex sees nothing, but Maggie.

And Maggie is looking at no one, seeing no one, but Alex.