a dance party, and the live band was currently playing a cover of “Shotgun” by George Ezra. There was even a photo booth near the entrance to the ballroom, complete with props. Mitch and Cody were over there now, sorting through feathery boas and plastic glasses the size of Ethan’s arm and sparkly, velvet hats.
Casey, in his own Casey-like way, had made fast friends with them both and was urging them to hurry up from inside the booth.
There was something about Casey tonight that drew Ethan’s eye more than usual. Maybe it was the way he’d smoothly interjected that he was Ethan’s boyfriend since Britton had been nearby, a fact Ethan hadn’t been aware of until he’d turned to blink at Casey in confusion. Maybe it was the way he wore a black suit so well that it hugged his pert butt and trim waist. Maybe it was the way he had a smile for everyone.
Whatever it was had made it hard for Ethan to focus on anything else all night. He’d even gone so far as to crowd into Casey when Roman had arrived with Cody. Like a subtle claim.
The song changed. He didn’t recognize it. It was one of those smooth pop songs that you could either jump around to or slow dance to.
Would Casey dance with him if he asked? Maybe if he thought Ethan was asking to put on a show for Britton?
Roman was right—this was the worst idea ever. But calling Casey his boyfriend—even if it was pretend—was further than he ever thought he’d get with him, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.
Leaving his drink on the nearest table, nerves tap-dancing across his spine, he wove his way through the crowd, avoiding coaches who’d drag him into unwanted conversation, and arrived at the photo booth in time for Casey, Mitch, and Cody to topple out of it. They hovered around the booth, waiting for it to dispense the strip of photos.
“How’d it go in there?” Ethan asked.
Casey, wearing a bright pink feather boa and a pink sequined cowboy hat, peered at him from behind clownish pink sunglasses. “It’s definitely not meant for three full-grown men.” He grinned. “You should’ve joined us.”
Ethan snorted a laugh. “I don’t think that would’ve worked. I do like your outfit, though.” He waved a hand an inch above the boa, making the feathers rustle.
“I chose it with you in mind,” Casey said, tossing one end over his shoulder like an old-fashioned dame. Putting on an air of flirty showgirl, he added, “I know you like a good costume.”
Sifting the feathers through his fingers, Ethan matched Casey’s tone. “It’s gorgeous, dah-ling.”
Mitch and Cody stared at them, one with a raised brow, the other with lips pressed together in a way that didn’t hide a smile.
Right. Ethan was here for a reason. He cleared his throat. Shifted on his feet. Gave Casey’s boa a friendly yank. “Do you, uh, want to dance?”
Very briefly, Casey froze. It was for less than a second as he was removing the giant sunglasses, but it was enough for Ethan to question everything he’d ever known—including the fact that Casey liked to dance. He opened his mouth to take back his offer when Casey tossed the sunglasses into the prop box, then the hat. “Sure. But I’m keeping the boa.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
As they reached the edge of the dance floor, the band switched things up with K-Ci and JoJo’s “All My Life.”
“Um.” Pausing, Ethan took in the swaying couples. “Maybe we should—”
“Come on.” Casey grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor, where they awkwardly tried to figure out whose hands went where while the boa tickled Ethan’s nose.
Finally, they ended up with an arm around each other’s waists. Their other hands were clasped at chest height. It wasn’t any closer than when they’d shared Casey’s twin bed the other night. In fact, they weren’t even touching anywhere else.
Still, Ethan’s blood pounded and he swallowed hard.
“Slow songs are good, right?” There was laughter in Casey’s eyes. “Maybe you won’t trip over your own feet.”
Ethan scowled. “I like to think I’ve improved since the ninth grade Valentine’s Day dance.”
“Sure, sure.”
Ignoring him, Ethan said, “You saw Britton, I’m guessing?”
“Britton?” Casey said the name like he had no idea who that was. “Right. Britton. Yeah, he’s, uh, over there.” He jerked his chin somewhere over Ethan’s shoulder.
Ethan moved in a touch closer, all the better to sell the game to Britton.
And