“Oh, come on, Seb!” Jack shouted close to my ear and over the sound of the club music. “Just this song!” He batted his long eyelashes at me and puckered his lips. “Please. Pretty please.”
Again, I shook my head and declined. Feeling guilty about my refusal to join in the fun, I took another sip of my flat beer, pretending to be interested in the patterns on the club’s back wall.
I wasn’t going to dance. No way. The floor was so tightly packed with men that I couldn’t imagine making my way through that rowdy crowd of guys.
Of course Jack was getting impatient and antsy at my side. “God, I love this song.” He tugged on my belt. “This is torture. I’m like, Jacques De Molay burning in Paris here.”
“What?”
Jack danced at my side, swinging his narrow hips, his eyes glimmering with mischievo
