19. Iris
19
IRIS
Jake pulls me close, and instead of our practiced steps, he simply holds me. His breath fans over my neck, sending shivers cascading down my spine.
"I know you have better moves than this." My voice is shaky. "You don't need to pretend for my benefit."
"No pretending." His lips graze my earlobe. "Not tonight. We don't have to prove anything to anyone right now. It's just you and me, Dixon."
His hand is warm on my back, and he draws the other one up my body, stopping just below the swell of my breast. My breathing is unsteady once again, but it has nothing to do with nerves, and everything to do with need and the heat pooling between my legs.
Jake takes my hand and curls it toward him, pressing his lips to each of my knuckles. From the outside, I'm sure what we're doing here looks innocent enough. It's not overtly sexual or suggestive, but I feel like my body is changing as we sway to the music. It's like someone is pouring warm honey over me, and all I can think about is Jake Byrne licking it off every inch of my body.
When he moves, I move with him, and for once I'm not worried about the steps, count, or whether I'm treading on his toes. For the first time in forever, my brain quiets. I'm not overthinking, just responding to his energy from someplace deep inside. He twirls me away from him, and I keep my eyes closed because I know he'll pull me back and keep me safe. At least for now.
I'm not kidding myself into thinking I look like I know what I'm doing, I just don't care. This is the joy and reckless abandon I remember from when I danced as a kid. It's what it still does for me in the privacy of my own home.
Dancing alone allows me to be me, without worrying what other people think.
Jake touches me low on my back, pressing his hips into me so I can feel how hard he is behind the zipper of his dark jeans. And I'm not thinking of anyone else but the two of us.
I'm having fun.
The song comes to an end, and I blink open my eyes, glancing around as my mind revs up again. Only, nobody's staring at me. It hits me suddenly—people are too wrapped up in their own lives to scrutinize mine the way I've always feared. How much of my life have I spent performing for an audience that doesn't actually exist?
Even though I don't have proof, and it truly shouldn't matter, I understand he was likely right about my mom. The humiliation of the recital wasn't going to be mine. But she let me take the fall. She ruined the thing she knew I loved the most because she couldn't stop being who she was. The weight of imagined scrutiny begins to lighten as I accept that maybe I've been the harshest judge of myself all along.
"Stay with me," he says, squeezing my hand.
The next song that comes on is faster-paced. It's the perfect tempo for the salsa we're supposed to be performing at the Fun Fest Showcase. And suddenly, I am Rose on the Titanic. And the man smiling and laughing as he twirls me is my version of Jack—only a whole lot sexier than Leo, even in his Titanic heyday.
In fact, Jake is sexier than anybody I've ever seen. I want him more than is smart for either of us, especially when I promised Jodi I’d stay away. Need crackles between us, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel it.
I'm a woman of my word, but this is an assignment from our dance instructor.
I push my promise to Jodi to the back of my mind, tucking it away in that mental drawer where I store all the uncomfortable truths I don't want to face. Tonight isn't about politics or my complicated past. I've spent so long being responsible, maybe I deserve one night to just feel good without worrying about consequences. I'm still not sure how this is going to make a difference in my ability to follow the steps during the showcase. But it's done miraculous things for my heart. It’s about finally choosing something—someone—that feels like joy.
We dance to a few more songs, the music smoothing out all the sharp edges between us.
As we leave the club, one of the couples we met invites us for a late-night—or early morning, as the case may be—meal at a nearby twenty-four-hour diner.
Jake looks to me for an answer. "It might be fun," he tells me with a wink.
Why is it so easy to have fun when I'm with this man?
"Totally," I agree, and we spend the next hour talking and laughing with our new friends, Margo and Andrew.
We plow through breakfast burritos served with crispy hash browns, a mountain of fluffy pancakes drenched in butter and syrup, and a homemade cinnamon roll topped with cream cheese icing that melts in my mouth. The conversation is easy and natural, and I forget about worrying if they're judging me or if I need to act a certain way to be liked. I'm just me, and that seems to be enough.
We hear about their upcoming wedding plans and I invite them to come to Skylark for the Fun Fest weekend. Margo assures me we'll do amazing in the showcase, and the confidence of a woman I've just met makes me want to believe. I'm stuffed and exhausted and more relaxed than I've felt in forever when we hug goodbye and head to where the G Wagon is parked a block away.
Jake takes my hand as we walk down the nearly empty city sidewalk, his thumb tracing circles on the inside of my palm. "So much for your claim about being an acquired taste. Those two picked up on how amazing you are in a matter of hours."
I want to believe him, but it's not that easy. "I'm pretty sure the me they saw was the one basking in the glow you put off. Anyone would seem appealing if they're standing next to Jake Byrne."
"Don't sell yourself short, Iris." All hint of teasing has disappeared from his voice. "You're perfect just the way you are." His words undo me, because a part of me—maybe the most broken part—wants to believe them.
"This night has been perfect," I tell him, unable to respond directly to his words. They mean too much.
"And fun?" We're at his vehicle now, and he links our fingers and pulls me close.
"You know it was."
The temperature has dropped, and I can almost see his breath in the cold air. We're inches apart. All I have to do is lean in and brush my lips across his. There's no doubt he wants me. I can see it in the sparks that flicker in his gray-green eyes. Feel the desire radiating from him like an electrical current. I want him so much my body practically trembles with it. The two of us together could be so right. I know that deep in my bones. But also…
"You're going on a date with Jodi tomorrow," I remind both of us as I force myself to step away from him, out of the magnetic pull that sucks me in like a black hole.
His thick brows furrow. "I could cancel and?—"
"No. You promised." I shake my head. "I promised."
Promised to keep my distance.
Promised myself I wouldn't fall for the wrong guy after my last disaster. That I wouldn't make the same mistakes my mother did. Not again.
With our history, Jake can't be right for me. No matter how much my body and heart want to convince me otherwise.
"One date, Iris." I hear the frustration in his voice. "But you owe me a date, too. A real one."
"Wasn't tonight enough?"
He barks out a sharp laugh and opens the passenger door. "Not even close." The need in his voice is matched by the heat in his eyes. One touch and I’ll unravel.
The emotion in his tone steals my breath. But I climb into the seat like I'm not affected. Like I can ignore the connection between us. Like it's not killing me to think of him out with another woman.
"It has to be," I whisper, wondering which of us I'm trying to convince.