“I can talk to Matty about letting you get in the kitchen sometimes,” I offered.
A genuine smile rose on his lips and he thanked me, but declined the offer, saying he would figure it out on his own. He pushed himself to a standing position. “Well, this is getting a bit too Dr. Phil for my liking, so I’m going to head over and get me some more catfish. Do you need anything?” he asked. I shook my head and watched him walk away.
“Oh thank God, you’re still alive,” muttered a voice next to me. I turned as Tristan slid into Sam’s seat.
“What are you doing here?” I’m so happy you’re here. I like when you’re here. Ask me the kissing question again.
“Well,” he began to explain. “When a friend goes on a date with Stalker Sam, it’s your responsibility to check in on that friend.”
Friend.
I’d been friend-zoned. Ask me the kissing question! Please.
“And since when are you the responsible friend?” I asked, playing nonchalant about the fact that my stomach was doing cartwheels and somersaults while unicorns and kittens danced around inside of me.
“Since about…” He glanced down at the invisible watch on his right wrist. “Five seconds ago. It sounded like fun to come and watch you and Sam make complete fools of each other.” He tapped his fingers against his kneecaps, avoiding eye contact with me.
Oh my gosh…
He was jealous.
I wouldn’t mock him about it, though. “Dance with me?” I asked.
When his hand reached out for mine, my heart skipped a beat. I placed my hand in his and he led us to the dance floor. He spun me around once before pulling me closer to his body. My breaths were short and fast as I stared into his eyes. What are you thinking, stormy eyes? He stood inches over me, never letting his hold on me falter. I could feel the eyes of every person in the place staring at us. I could almost hear their judgments, their whispers.
My head lowered, my stare falling to the ground. I felt his finger lift my chin and he forced my stare to meet his, which was fine. I liked looking at him and I liked the way he looked at me. Even though I wasn’t certain what it meant—the two of us staring at each other the way we were.
“You lied to me,” I said.
“Never.”
“You did.”
“I’m not a liar.”
“But you lied.”
“About what?”
“The white feathers. I saw the receipt for them. You said you found them at Mr. Henson’s shop.”
He chuckled and frowned. “I might have lied to you about that.”
I leaned in closer to his lips, seconds away from kissing him, seconds away from our first kiss where he was him, and I was me.
My hands fell against his chest and I could feel his heartbeats against my touch. I could almost see his soul within his eyes. The song stopped, but we stayed close, our breathing patterns matching each other’s. Our breaths heavy and nervous. Excited and scared. His thumb ran alongside my neck, and he stepped in closer. I liked how close he was. I feared how close he was. He tilted his head slightly as he gave me the smallest crooked smile, staring at me as if he was promising to never look away.
They all warned me about Tristan, begging me to stay away. ‘He’s an asshole, he’s wild, and he’s broken, Liz,’ they would say. ‘He’s nothing but the ugly scars of his yesterdays,’ they swore.
But what they didn’t see, what they chose to ignore was the fact that I was also a little wild, a bit crazy, and completely shattered too.
I was damaged goods at best.
But when I was with him, at least I remembered to breathe.
“Mind if we switch partners?” A familiar voice interrupted me from falling into Tristan’s taste. I looked up to see Tanner smiling toward me with Faye in his arms.
I smiled, even though I kind of wanted to frown. “Of course.”
As Tanner took my hand, Tristan took Faye’s. I missed him even though he was only a few steps away from me.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” Tanner said, pulling me close to him. “I know I have two left feet, but I can still move my hips pretty well,” he joked.
“I happen to remember a certain holiday party where you won the award for the best worst dancer.”
He crinkled up his nose. “I still think that my shopping cart dance should’ve won the best dancer, but with your husband as the judge, I knew I would be screwed over.”
I laughed. “The shopping cart. How did that one go again?”
With two steps back, Tanner started pretending that he was pushing a shopping cart and placing items into said shopping cart. He then started to invisibly place his items on a check-out lane where he scanned his food and bagged it up. I couldn’t stop laughing. He smirked and moved back to me, falling into our much slower and easier dance routine.
“Perfect. You really should’ve won the best dancer that night.”
“Right?!” He bit his bottom lip. “I was screwed.”