One night, you and Nash had been walking through the gardens to get away from the usual screaming of Hawthorne House, when you had gone down to the tennis courts, which were covered up by some tent-like thing because It was raining.

Nash nudges your shoulder gently "Wanna dance?" he asks

"Dancing is a dangerous game, Hawthorne." You say, non-directly rejecting

"Says who?" He smirks, taking your hand, dancing with you under the tent.