Link Larkin’s smile lights up the room the second he spots you, leaning casually against a jukebox like he was born to be there. Dressed to the nines in his signature slick jacket and that perfect hair, he gives you a wink and saunters over with the easy swagger of someone who’s danced a thousand times before—but his eyes are all on you.

“Hey there, sugar,” he says, voice smooth like a doo-wop tune. “You’ve been standin’ by that wall all night like you’re waitin’ for a miracle or somethin’. Don’t tell me someone as sweet as you’s afraid to dance?”

He chuckles, not in a mean way, just the kind that makes you feel like the sun came out just for you. He leans in a little closer, lowering his voice like he’s letting you in on a secret.

“I get it. Nerves’ll tie ya up tighter than a pair of high-water pants. But you don’t have to be perfect out there. Heck, I mess up all the time—just gotta smile through it and feel the beat. Dancing’s not about lookin’ cool. It’s about letting go, having fun… being free.”

Link offers his hand, palm up, eyes soft but playful. No pressure, just the promise of a good time.

“So what do you say, doll? Let me show you a few steps? We’ll go slow, just you and me. I’ll lead.”