The Bad Boy's Dance by Vera Calloway

with them,” I mumbled in his ear, and he muffled his laugh in my shoulder.
                  Paul and Spencer’s interaction was downright comical. Spencer fell to Paul’s feet and pretended to kiss them until Paul yanked him up by the hair and lobbed a knee in his gut. The violent freaks thought that was the most hilarious thing that ever happened in the history of man.
                  It worried me sometimes that I was related to them.
                  “How’ve you been, son?” Dad asked as we migrated to the living room. I pulled my knees against my chest and beamed at my older brother, who winked at me.
                  Paul was closer to me than Spencer. I loved them an equal amount, certainly, but Paul got me. Spencer was more of the fun, spirited Robello while Paul was the conservative, intellectual one. He’d been there to help me when I was going through the darkest phase of my life. He’d been my lifeline.
                  “Great, Dad. My psychology professor put in a request for me as his TA because I aced his class.”
                  Paul was studying to be a therapist. I really hoped that didn’t have anything to do with me.
                  “You always were a keen fellow,” Spencer piped up. “Girls had to rip the books out of your way before they could get to you.”
                  Did I mention that my older brothers were- for some incomprehensible reason- considered hot commodities in this town? Obviously they hadn’t seen Paul eating spaghetti on the couch with his fingers or Spencer’s ridiculous magic tricks.
                  “Shut it ass-um, butt-face,” Paul corrected hurriedly under my Mom’s glare.
                  My phone buzzed against my thigh. I had two texts, one from Dana and the other from an unknown number. Opening Dana’s first, I prepared for the 21 st century version of the Spanish inquisition.
                  Dana: What happened with Asher Grayson yesterday? I can’t believe you didn’t call me!
                  Me: It was late when I got in.
                  It took me a few minutes to realize that that was not the right thing to say.
                  Dana: Hold your horses ace. You stayed late at his house?! It can’t take that long watching a movie!
                  I decided to torture her a little. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t drive her crazy every now and then?
                  Me: Oh, we only watched one movie. We were…preoccupied the rest of the time.
                  My mind considered what Dana would visualize upon reading the message, and heat swept over me at the thought. Urgh. Asher would have a freaking field day if he knew he affected me this badly.
                  Dana: You have ten seconds to explain before I pull a Red Foreman and bury my boot so far up your butt you won’t be able to sit right for a week.
                  I scrunched my nose. Dana could certainly be graphic. She’d made me turn so green the day we were dissecting frogs in Bio that I’d had to be rushed to the nurses office. I still can’t look a frog in the eye.
                  Me: You wouldn’t want to do that with Paul here, now would you?
                  Dana: I’m soooo having Caleb stuff a soccer ball up your nostril. Just watch.
                  Me: He wouldn’t do that. He’s not a meanie like you. I’m going through a mountain…in the Appalachians….in a hurricane…oh no…I think I’m disconnecting. Bye!
                  Giggling when I pictured her furious face, I clicked on the text from the unknown number.
                  I get to pick the next movie.
                  Asher. How’d he get my number? Oh yeah, I’d given it to him when we were assigned the