Star
A s the night goes on, I start to relax. Barrow is kind and attentive, making sure I’m comfortable and never leaving me to fend for myself. He introduces me to his colleagues with such ease, it’s almost as if I belong here.
And the way I feel with Barrow, so safe and certain? It’s almost as if I belong with him .
Even though there’s no evidence to prove it, I dare to believe it body and soul.
When the music starts, I watch nervously as couples begin to make their way to the dance floor. I’m about to suggest we grab some food instead when Barrow turns to me, his expression soft and hopeful.
“Dance with me?”
I blink, caught off guard. “I…I don’t really dance.”
“Neither do I,” he admits with a crooked smile. “But we can stumble through it together.”
There’s something in his voice — a gentle, unassuming confidence — that makes it impossible to say no. I grin back and place my hand in his waiting one. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I tease, letting him guide me to the dance floor.
“I can handle it,” Barrow murmurs, eyes darkening, words suddenly heavy with unspoken meaning. Somehow, I believe him — something I haven’t been able to say of a man in a very long time.