Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

Marci waved back. Eric and another coach, Robbie,
gave them looks that said, We’ll just pretend we’re not
seeing this.
But another round of margaritas later, the coaches
were out on the dance floor too. It was heady and good.
Bridget felt a dancing high coming on that rivaled her
running high. She couldn’t resist him anymore.
She turned to Eric and danced close. She touched his
hand momentarily. She watched his hips. He was both
easy and skilled. She let her eyes linger on his. For once
he didn’t look away.
She put her hands at the bottom of his back, matching
her hips to his. He was so close she could smell his neck.
He put his lips to her ear. It sent an avalanche of chills to
her feet.
Gently he gathered her hands and gave them back. In
her ear he whispered, “We can’t do this.”
Lena threw herself onto her bed, nearly exploding
with self-concern. Then she heard whispers and then
shouting downstairs. Was her silent grandfather shouting?
She leaped to her feet and pulled off her wet shirt,
replacing it with a dry one. Then she yanked off the
Pants and put them on the right way, her fingers shaking.
What was going on here?
When Lena arrived at the bottom of the stairs, she
saw that Bapi’s face was practically purple, and he was
striding toward the front door. Grandma hovered around
him, reasoning with him in a nervous tangle of Greek.
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