Chapter 25 #2
“So I don’t lose you again.” My offer was innocent and very much appropriate for the setting we were currently in, but after the words left my lips, Leyla looked into my eyes and seemed to feel the same thing I had. Those words held more meaning than just an offer to keep her safe.
“Let’s not let that happen,” she said, shaking her head.
I wanted to say I’d never let it happen again, but I settled for letting her soft hand fit into mine.
It was then that I knew. I was in love with this woman. Even years ago, I felt it. Being with her again solidified it in my mind. There would never be anyone else but her, and the thought of losing her again terrified me.
With a nod, I started walking again. Pretending to be engrossed in the search for dinner, I sucked in a breath as she slowly threaded her fingers between mine.
Her hands were a perfect fit, just as I knew they would be. Somehow, I was sure she’d be perfect for my life in every way.
We eventually decided on a few dishes from a South African food truck, and I reluctantly let go of her hand when I went to pay.
“These are amazing,” she said, once we found a spot to sit. “I’ve had Indian samosas, but these are even better.”
“They remind me of Turkish sigara boregi. Flaky dough, minced meat with cheese fried crispy like this,” I answered, enjoying our dinner. “Try the spicy chutney.”
“I’m a bit of a lightweight on spice, but I’m game.”
I dipped a pastry in the verdant condiment and brought it up to her mouth. She hesitated for just a moment before taking a small bite. Closing her eyes, she said, “Oh, that is delicious. The sweetness of the mango and the spices together. Wow.”
Watching her eat should not be this distracting. Dipping her next bite into the spicy chutney and smiling as she chewed made me desperate to snatch the bite from her hand and taste her sweet, spicy lips.
Leyla giggled as her gaze went to my mouth. On instinct, I started wiping it harshly with my flimsy napkin.
“Hold on, you’re missing it,” she said, bringing the napkin to my mouth and wiping ever so slowly, her gaze still on my lips. “Ah, got it.”
She pulled her hand away like it was on fire, pink staining her perfect face.
“Thanks.” Clearing my throat, I went back to my meal.
We ate in companionable silence as I snuck glances at her from below my lashes.
“It’s such a beautiful night.” Leyla looked around, admiring the stars that had begun to fill the night sky.
“Sometimes I think I take our city for granted. Between places like this, the beaches, the cliffsides, the mountains. It’s hard to believe we get to live here,” I answered.
“My neighbor was just saying the same thing the other day.” Looking back at what was left of our dinner, she asked, “Do you want any more?”
Shaking my head as I wiped the greasy remains on a napkin, I said, “No, I’m so full. You?”
“No, I’m done. This was such a great idea. I’ve heard about this event before, but sadly, I never got a chance to come.”
We picked up our containers, took the last sip of our kombucha, something I discovered she was obsessed with, and started walking back toward the car.
“You have great instincts when it comes to date ideas. I still say I’m wasting your time,” she said, biting her bottom lip.
“You’re not, and I thought it might be something you’d like.”
“Yes, but do you think this is something Pam would like to do? At some point, you’ll be asking her out, right?” She looked up at me as she spoke. I wanted to take her hand again, but the crowd had unfortunately thinned.
“Yes, at some point.”
“Does she know you’re interested?” she asked, her attention on the ground as we walked.
I chuckled. “No. No, I don’t think she does.”
“When are you planning to tell her?” After spending so much time with Leyla, I was starting to notice the different cadence of her voice. For some reason, she sounded almost sad as she asked that last question.
“Um, soon, I think.” I remembered a line from You’ve Got Mail and hoped my version would suffice. “I’m working on it, but it needs some tweaking.”
She stopped walking and turned to me, her head tilted. “That almost sounds like a line from a movie I know.”
Oh boy. Just my luck, she knows that movie.
“I, ah, I just mean I’m working on it. So, are you excited to go dancing?” I asked, hoping to create a diversion.
She pursed her lips but seemed to let it go. As we resumed walking, she said, “Excited and a little nervous. You seem to be some kind of expert, and I really am not.”
“I may have oversold my skills.”
She laughed, throwing her head back as I watched, my own smile growing.
“You’re not getting out of this so easily, Mr. Demir,” she warned. The car was just up ahead, and my hand itched to touch hers again, but I knew soon enough she’d be in my arms.
When we reached the La Vue Dance Studio, Leyla turned to me as we walked toward the front door. “Are we getting lessons?” she asked excitedly.
“No, but they offer them if we ever want to come back.” I opened the door, and the loud music made it necessary to bend down to her ear. “Once a month, they turn the studio into a dance night with a live band. It looked like fun when I found it online.”
She nodded and let me lead her to a table. The evening's band specialized in Latin music, and I prayed I could remember the different Latin dance steps Mom had taught me.
“They’re amazing,” she yelled over the music, her eyes bright.
I nodded and pointed to the makeshift bar. “Would you like something to drink?”
Leaning toward me, she said, “No, I’m still stuffed, but thanks.”
The crowd was a mix of couples and groups our age and older. The venue hummed with warmth and rhythm, and an energy that was palpable. Leyla tapped her feet and swayed in her seat as the band’s pulsing beat filled the air.
Taking a deep breath, I stood and held my hand out to her. It was now or never. “Would you like to dance with me, Leyla?”
I was rewarded with her bright smile, which could’ve lit up the dark space.
“Yes, I’d love to.”
She stood, her hand once again in mine, where it belonged if I had anything to do with it. She’d taken off her jacket, and I could see goosebumps on her arms. I could only hope they were from touching my hand again and not from being cold.
We navigated the crowd, excusing ourselves as we pushed through and found a somewhat empty spot on the dance floor. I pulled her in close, very slowly, waiting for her next move.
Still holding my hand, her other arm came up my chest and settled on my shoulder, so I slid my free arm around her waist. Taking a step closer, she looked up at me, her magnetic eyes shining like gems in the pulsing lights above.
We started swaying to the beat of a slow song that began just as we drew closer. I could feel the heat of her body and the softness of her hand, which I had now pulled up to sit over my heart.
As the band sang about feeling the beat, I prayed she couldn’t feel how hard my heart was beating. This was a dream. One I never wished to wake from. With a sigh, Leyla laid her cheek on my shoulder as we continued to sway together in a rhythm of our own making.
Even as the music picked up in tempo, we swayed as if no one else were around us.
Lowering my head, I spoke into her ear. “You’re a great dancer.”
I felt her smile without seeing it, but she didn’t answer.
Emboldened, I drew her closer, my hand spreading on her back.
When my fingers touched her soft, bare back, I had to close my eyes.
The arm around my shoulder slid around my neck, and I was minutes from passing out.
Or getting on my knees and begging her to be mine forever.
When a lively song came on, Leyla leaned away from me, her eyes lighting up in excitement. “I love this song. Can you dance bachata? It’s similar to salsa, but slower. Less spinning. More swaying.”
“I’m game if you are,” I said loudly, hoping to remember the steps.
The crowd had gone wild over the song, and we watched as a few couples who looked like professionals took over the dance floor. Trying to follow them, we moved around until we got the feel for it, our hips swaying to the beat.
As the music continued, we laughed at our mistakes and smiled when we got it right, joy on both our faces as we danced song after song.
“I think I need that water now,” she yelled sometime later. I nodded and led her away from the crowd toward a free table.
“Oh my gosh, I haven’t had that much fun in years,” she said, using a napkin to wipe her glistening face as she sat.
“Me either. Stay here, and I’ll go get us some drinks.”
Drinks in hand, I wove my way back to our table and had to stop to admire her as she sat. Flushed cheeks, a wide smile, hands in the air swaying to the salsa beat the band had started playing.
I couldn’t go on much longer like this. There was no denying my intense feelings for her, and it was only a matter of time before I confessed my love to her.
The fear of messing up what I was trying to build with her was starting to feel like an excuse. I hadn’t had a lasting relationship in years, and it was beginning to become clear why.
None of them was Leyla Cooper.
Handing her the cold bottle of water, her eyes closed as she took a long drink. “That feels amazing. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.” I took a long drink of my own. “I love seeing you like this. You look so happy.”
She put the bottle down and leaned in close. “It’s the company.”
When she leaned back, my heart pounded at a dangerous rate. Her eyes scanned mine, and my eyes dipped briefly to her lips and back to her eyes. She inhaled quickly, and that was my clue. Now or never, I thought, as I leaned toward her again.
“Leyla,” I said, with a loud swallow.
“Yes,” she breathed out.
“There’s, um, there’s something else I think I might need help with.”
She licked her lips, and I nearly fainted.
“What is it?” I took her hand in mine, letting her warmth give me courage.
“Well, you’ve helped me with ideas for subjects to talk about and with getting to know where to take a woman on a date.”
Her eyes lowered to my lips, then returned to my eyes. Was I trembling, or was that her?
“Yes,” she repeated.
“It’s embarrassing, but I haven’t, I mean, it’s been a long time since I’ve…”
“Since you’ve what, Niko? Talk to me,” she said, her voice lower in tone.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve...” I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t tell her how badly I wanted to kiss her, that my chest ached. It was under the guise of practice, but who was I kidding? I wanted to kiss Leyla until she forgot her own name.
She blinked and waited. I needed to get closer. On impulse, I grabbed the side of her chair and slowly pulled it as close as I could, making her gasp. But as much as I wanted to know if her lips tasted like vanilla, I wouldn’t do this without her consent.
Leyla must have realized the reason for my hesitation, because the next words out of her mouth almost took me out.
“Kiss me, Niko,” she said, her husky voice giving me goosebumps.
“As you wish.”