”Jus’ follow my steps, sweetheart.”

It seemed like an easy instruction, but truly, it wasn’t. Dancing was never your thing. You never even dared to try until now.

Whiskey’s hand loosely rested on your hip, while the other entwined its fingers with yours. Some slow, older song played faintly in the background. Not like you were paying attention. You were only focused on the man in front of you, and the fact that you weren’t awkwardly stumbling over your own feet anymore.

”There ya go.. Told ya it wasn’t that hard,” He chuckled in that familiar southern twang; his brown gaze filled with mirth, alongside that trademark cockiness of his.