Chapter 22 #2
“My mom was hoping that my endless energy and the need to shuttle Olivia to dance lessons could be a two-birds-one-stone situation, so she put me in ballroom dancing.” He shuddered, remembering the awkward, boring lessons.
“It was the only class I would agree to. I was pretty good at it. Turns out it’s a nice way to pick up women,” he said, holding his hand out.
She looked nervous.
“I won’t bite.”
“That’s not the function of your mouth that I’m afraid of,” she said, putting her hand in his reluctantly.
“I won’t make fun of you either,” he said and pulled her in. He sighed at the feeling of her in his arms, her hand in his, as he wrapped his hand around her lower back. He moved her hand placement from his chest up to his shoulder.
It had been a long twenty-four hours without touching her.
“This is a lot easier with you,” he said offhandedly. And the sentiment struck him.
A lot of things are easier with her.
“Because I’m eight feet tall?” She snickered.
He sighed, letting the moment breathe between them. “Because we fit better together. Having a dance partner who’s a foot shorter than you is a pain in the ass. Now, move your right foot back.”
She stepped forward, firmly onto his toe.
“Back,” he said, wincing.
“Oh no. Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, looking genuinely concerned for him.
He straightened them back up. “It’s fine—”
“Are you su—”
“Allison, you’re tiny,” he said patiently, meeting her eyes as they widened. “What?”
She avoided his eyes. “That’s not something I hear a lot. It’s uh, nice.”
Her embarrassed, lopsided smile might be his new favorite.
It would be so easy to kiss her right now. If she ended up getting pregnant, there’d be no more excuses to kiss her.
Tilt her chin up, get a taste.
“Alright, coach. Put me back in,” she said, standing up straight, sporting a bright, eager-to-please smile.
Shit. Missed my window. He nodded. “Okay, right foot back, and then left foot to the side,” he instructed. She stared at their feet. “And then…together.”
They closed their feet together. “And look at that—you just waltzed.”
She looked up at him with sparkling happy eyes. “I did?” She looked genuinely proud of herself.
“You did it,” he said, squeezing her hand in his, feeling an uncomfortable ache in his chest.
The delight in her face made him feel protective of her. He wanted to see more of her sparkling. Wanted to make her feel like she wasn’t alone in her fight in this world.
“What next?” she asked eagerly.
“Then, left foot forward.” He mirrored her footsteps with his own. “And right to the side, and then together. Congratulations, you’ve completed your first box step.”
She jumped in his arms, wiggling her butt. “And no one was hurt.”
He willed himself not to notice how pretty her face looked bathed in the lavender moonlight streaming in through the window.
Again, they completed the step.
Back, over, together. Up, over, together. Back, over, together.
“Oh,” she said as her feet got switched around. He caught her before they tumbled over the side of a table, both of them bursting into laughter.
He held her tight against him.
“Got too confident, Styles.” He chuckled, not wanting to let her go. She’d grabbed at his shirt so she didn’t fall, but her hands hadn’t left his arms.
They stilled.
“It was good while it lasted, I guess,” she said, her eyes dancing.
Oh god, it really has been good, he thought, reflecting on the last six weeks.
The sex, the teasing. Making her smile and laugh even though he knew it killed her to laugh at his jokes.
Is this what she’s like all the time? Her cheeks were round with a happy smile, and her eyes sparkled.
His hand came up to trace the curve of her cheek, sliding down to tilt her chin up. Her eyes were full of questions.
They looked a lot like he felt, honestly. How had it turned into this? How had she turned into the person he wanted to spend time with?
“So would you have done this with Jennifer?” Allison said, as his thumb stroked along her jaw.
He grimaced. Never.
The thought was repulsive to him. Nothing against that woman; he didn’t even know her.
With horrifying clarity, Wells realized he liked—really liked—the very annoying, people-pleasing grandma-in-training in his arms. Even at her worst, she was one of the people he most looked forward to seeing.
He cleared his throat and dropped his arms, stepping back. “Maybe,” he lied.
Better to cover his tracks now before he got too close.
Allison smirked, nodding like she’d expected his answer.
“You could go on a date if you wanted,” he said, testing the waters, playing chicken with her. “I see the way guys stare at you.”
She made a snort-like scoff as she turned away from him, staring out at the Frost Fest.
“Do not scoff at me, Styles.”
“I’m literally wallpaper to most people,” she muttered, staring at the bustling crowd, lost in her own thoughts. “Just a background character, especially to men.”
How could she miss the way other people saw her?
The way I see her?
“That’s where you’re wrong, as usual,” he said, putting in some snark to hide how vulnerable he felt. “Other guys…they think you’re ethereal.”
Her pretty pastel hair, her statuesque curvy figure, her constant cheerful bright colors and sunny helpfulness.
“You’re like the embodiment of spring. Persephone with the body of Aphrodite, encased in grandma sweaters.” It all flowed off his tongue so easily. Like his subconscious had been preparing to explain all the lovely things about her.
He gulped, wanting to shove it back in his mouth.
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, her profile in perfect silhouette, highlighting all his favorite features. She looked like a fucking painting with the moonlight splashing onto the curve of her nose and cheek, the mouth that scoffed at him.
“Other guys compare me to Aphrodite?” she asked, a sly smile curving her lips.
“Oh yeah,” he said, playing with a pepper shaker on the table, realizing he’d given too much away. “You know how small-town guys love their Greek mythology.”
“If I’m Persephone, what does that make you? Hades?” she said with a questioning look.
He couldn’t let her see. Couldn’t even hint that this was anything beyond a physical partnership to him.
They’d said no romance.
And here he was, breaking the fucking contract as he compared her to goddesses in the moonlight.
He slammed down iron bars between his feelings and his mouth.
“No,” he scoffed, playing if off. “Persephone and Hades were in love.” He sighed, looking out at the Frost Fest beside her. “We’re just hooking up for a baby.”
“Right, right,” she said with a stupid me nod. She tapped her chin in thought, a mischievous smile on her face. “Hooking up for babies. I guess that would make you...Zeus.”
Wells, despite himself, filled the diner with unexpected laughter, even as his heart ached from behind those iron bars.