Union High's September Homecoming dance theme this year is famous couples in Hollywood. With that in mind, Dylan and I still have to decide who we want to dress as for the dance. I want to go as Rose and Jack from the Titanic, but Dylan wants to go as James Dean and Marilyn Monroe. In my opinion those two were too tragic to emulate. I shudder thinking how young they died. It's Thursday, two days before Homecoming and I'm worried about what I'm going to wear. I know I'm a terrible dancer, so I'm home getting a crash course on dancing from Julia.

Donna emerges from the cream colored wall. Waltzing around the living room, she jumps into my mind before I block her. I hear her moan in my head. "I can't take this anymore!" Her throaty anguished voice reverberates in my mind.

"What?" I mentally ask her.

Your dancing. It's too painful to watch!

The music flips to another song as an invisible hand switches the radio to a sensuous, grinding beat.

Julia, who's surprisingly into the pulsing, erotic music thinks I'm the one who switched the radio dial. "That's a nice rhythmic beat, Lizzy."

She's oblivious to Donna's presence. I'm almost embarrassed as I watch Donna's ghost grind up against her with some playful pelvic thrusts. At that moment, I'm eternally thankful Julia's not psychic.

With Donna  guiding my feet and limbs, I grow more relaxed with the dance moves. In fact, I start to feel as sure and light footed as a Las Vegas showgirl. Concentrating hard, I try to memorize the feel of the movements. At least now I feel I can move about the dance floor without tripping over my own feet. With my new confidence, I start to feel excited about the dance.

I bet Dylan's an awesome dancer. I can't wait for Saturday.

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(Connor POV)

Meanwhile over at Connor's house....

"What's going on in here you two?"

Shit.

My dad stands in the doorway observing Dylan and I locked together in a slow dance. The low, crooning music in the background is setting the mood to make out. We immediately break apart from our tangled dance stance. Fidgeting, Dylan avoids looking at my dad.

"Hey, Mr. Trent. We were .." Dylan starts mumbling an explanation, but my has seen enough and retreats from the man cave.

"Never mind. I don't want to know." He grabs a beer out of the basement cooler. "Band mates, my ass."

"Dylan wanted to learn how to slow dance." My mother taught me when I was five. Both my parents are excellent dancers. On his way out the door, my dad holds up his hand dismisses any proffered explanation. "I don't need to know, Connie!" He playfully exaggerates the feminine version of my name and thumps upstairs, his laughter trailing after him. Dylan looks so uncomfortable I can barely contain my mirth. After he leaves, I break out into some lewd, moves from Magic Mike. Dylan awkwardly copies my  strip dance moves.

"Yeah, that will definitely cause all the guys to trample Lizzy on their way to your dance card. Stop fooling around and come back over here. You're still stepping all over my feet. Now put your arms back around me and gaze into my eyes. "I force Dylan back into position and pull hips tight to mine.

As we resume the dance lesson and glide gracefully around the floor, I decide to share relationship advice with my best friend. "Dylan, I think you should tell Lizzy about your desire to enter the police academy. If you really want to share your lives together, you need to be able to share your dreams with her."

Dylan dips me and exclaims in a high feminine voice, "Yes, fairy godmother."

Thank you for reading!👻