Until The Trial

Chapter 9

The next day when he returns from doing whatever agent stuff he does he helps her finish up the attic. While Vaughn had been good company, she feels in better comfort when around Lucas. As they worked he continued to pepper her with historical questions as if trying to trip her up, but she answers each one. Samantha asks him several times throughout if he was sure he didn't have to leave, but he insisted he has nothing to do. It makes her wonder if the previous days he also had little to do and was only in his office to avoid her. Now they have moved to the kitchen where Lucas he prepping another Puerto Rican-style meal for her and the guys that are coming by later.

"I have a question about the agent you said is a drug abuser?"

Lucas sighs, "I think it's time to stop talking about the case now. I'm not even supposed to talk to you about this remember?"

"I think you're wrong," Samantha declares.

"Then tell me later why," Lucas reaches and taps something on his phone. He presses a grey circle speaker until it turns on.

"If he has such a big drug addiction then-" Loud music cuts her off. "Flynn! That's rude!"

He ignores her continuing to add spices to the chicken. Samantha crosses her arm annoyed. He can be so infuriating when he doesn't want to talk. Despite her annoyance, Samantha finds herself swaying slightly to the beat of the song with several rappers singing in Spanish. Some of the words are familiar to her thanks to her six years of trying to learn Spanish. She recognizes the type of music as Reggaeton. Back in her apartment her neighbors usually blast it all night. It's the cause of her many headaches, but she blames them not the music. Given Lucas's Puerto Rican descent it makes sense he likes it. After a couple of songs, she finds herself wanting to properly dance to it but doesn't know-how.

"How do you dance to this?" she asks him, but he doesn't hear her. "FLYNN!" He lowers the sound of his speaker and an eyebrow at her. "How do I dance to this?"

"You want to dance?"

"Yes, how do I do it so I don't embarrass myself?"

Lucas's adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, "I don't think you want to learn how to dance to this."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't. Look I'm bored, I'm sorry if I'm making you feel uncomfortable," she apologizes embarrassed.

"No, it's fine," Lucas grabs his phone, "Do you like Salsa? Mark Anthony? I can teach you that one."

"I know it's a type of music, I haven't actually listened to it all that much," Samantha admits.

Lucas shakes his head, "Shame, I bet you will like it."

The previous song suddenly changes into an upbeat sound with several instruments making the beat.

"Okay, so it's simple," Lucas rolls up his sleeves and pushes the kitchen chairs to the side. Samantha tries to ignore how hot he looks with his sleeves rolled up like they are. "You bend your arms first. Then you put one foot forward and step. Then you bring it back and meet the other foot in the middle. Then your other foot back."

"Show me," she asks wanting to see him in action.

"Don't laugh," he says sternly.

"Never."

"It's like this," Lucas starts moving his arm and legs in synchronization with the rhythm. He moves smoothly not staying in one place too long. Samantha smiles at the sight of a supposed hardcore agent swaying his hips. Lucas glances at her and stops with a frown.

"You said you wouldn't laugh," he says.

"I didn't."

"You smiling is the equivalent of someone else laughing."