She saw him from the corner of her eye. Mike was leaning on the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. He was smirking. “Hi, Mike. Come dance with us,” Sam called, turning to him, the Wii remote in the hand she was waving with. As she moved her gaze away from the TV, she didn’t see what was going on. “Shoot. I got lost.” She started going through the steps faster, trying to catch up, but she wasn’t scoring any points. Kyra slowed down too. Sam loved playing dancing games on the Wii. He chuckled. “Dream on, baby girl. I don’t dance with the TV. I don’t play tennis with the TV either.” Mike didn’t understand them. Not the dancing, not the rowing, not the biking ones. He preferred the real thing. It probably came from growing up in a town with other kids and not on the road or stuck in an apartment in a big city. As the song came to an end and the points were totaled, Sam pouted. “We got a great score,” Kyra reminded her. They were not playing against each other but as a team, adding up all the points together.
