A long breath where I’m motionless, staring right back at him. Inside I feel a waiting all around us. A curtain’s-just-gone-up kind of moment, an indrawn breath, the rich thumping beat and the croon of that song saying do it, do it, do it.

I lift my eyebrow. His smile is so good and so dangerous and so full of pure, delighted confidence in me—and suddenly, I let myself go. I’m drunk on yes, let’s do this thing.

On the beat, I cock my hand on my hip, whip off my scarf, and swing it above my head to the sudden shouts and cheers around me. My heart zings, sharp and clear like a bell, with that glorious adrenaline I’m addicted to.

Taylor leans all the way back, cups his hands around his mouth, and howls.

“Aaaaaa-DEEE!”

Katherine is cracking up, and Nevaeh is going to tease me about this for weeks, and the crowd is mine, and I love it.

To the boom, I snap the scarf over my shoulder, and to the downbeat I trail it down the front of my body, over the ridiculous puffy coat, let my knees bend and my hips sway and my shoulders roll as I trace my hand slowly up the curve of my thigh. With a flourish I fling the scarf at Taylor, who catches it against his chest, laughing. I hear my name, over and over, a heartbeat under the music, and it’s inside me now, in that breathless moment when everything in the world stops when you step onstage. My body is singing, and I’m about to perform an aria.

That sublime place where I’m not locked in my head. Not worried about perfect. Pure joy. All eyes on me.

Arching my back and moving like I’m the beat and the bass, delighted by the ridiculousness of the puffy coat and the sexy dance, I tug the zipper of my coat down the rest of the way and shrug it off my shoulders. Let it slide down my back and arms until it drapes over my elbows, slides off my fingertips until I catch it, swing it in a graceful arc around my head, and toss it into the laughing, jostling, cheering crowd.

A hand goes up, and—and it’s Gavin, snatching the coat out of the air, but he doesn’t matter. I just blow him a kiss, swing my hips around, and rip off my wool hat to absolute shrieks of glee that reach a fever pitch as I slip my fingers down my neck, down my sides, my hips, then dip to the ground, toss my mass of dark curls, and glide back up in a perfect S-curve, flawless.