GENRE: YA Magical Realism
Ian and Joss have a love/hate relationship; he loves to give her reasons to hate him, but it's still true his bad boy nature gets him into places she can't, and Joss needs his contacts if she wants to find the criminal plotting against her family, so she handles it, albeit without much grace.
(begins with Joss):
“There must be somewhere they give narcissistic pig lessons because I can’t believe you come by it naturally, you James Dean wannabe. You’re here because you’ve got something to trade so shut up and tell me what you want in return this time.”
He ignored my demand and knelt on one knee, unlacing first his right combat boot and then the left.
“What, have you got a slip of paper with names or numbers hidden in your heel?”
He toed each boot off and threw them both onto my bed by the laces. They thumped still by my crossed knees. “Nope. Dance floors don’t take to inch-deep treads like you’d think, and I’m not letting you out of our deal just because you’re afraid of scuffing the wood.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but my room doesn’t actually have a built in pole or strobe lights, so whatever fantasies you’re rockin’ in that sick-puppy head of yours should probably come to a speedy end.”
“Yes, the obvious need for a pole does come to mind if I wanted to shove a few singles down the waistband of your Bobbie Brooks, but thankfully ballroom doesn’t require one. Not that a pole wouldn’t spice things up, but I think we can work with what we’ve got. Which reminds me . . .” He offered his right hand, his left flicking a spark over his shoulder at the music player, starting a waltz from one of my favorite old school fantasy flicks.