“You got something going on with George McDermott?” My expression must indicate I’m floored by his question because he quickly adds, “He’s been watching you since you arrived.” Has he? That’s news to me and obviously this guy is mistaking glaring at me for watching me in appreciation.
“We work together, that’s all,” I respond, unsure of why George is even bothering to stare at me at all. “You’re a pretty good dancer,” I tell him, trying desperately to change the subject.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Char,” he replies, and I’m stunned he knows my name until I remember that apparently I’m the town gossip.
“You know my name. Do I get to know yours?”
“Roger,” a voice interrupts, and I nearly choke. It’s Misty, and she’s attempting the daunting task of trying to shoot fire from her eyes at me and obliterate me to nothing but ashes. This bitch has some nerve acting like she’s jealous when she’s cheating on Roger with George. And then the thought hits me; this is Roger; her drug-dealing boyfriend she’s cheating on with George. I’ve been dancing with a drug dealer.
“May I cut in?” George asks from behind me. And as Misty glares at me, Roger eyes George with a look that says, I know; at least, that’s what it looks like to me.
“Um . . . sure,” I say, completely thrown by the last few seconds. “Do you mind, Roger?”
“No. Not at all.” Taking my hand, he kisses it and Misty’s eyes are as big as saucers. “Lovely to meet you, Char. I’ll see you around.” With that, he saunters off the dance floor, Misty scurrying behind him in a huff.
Looking back to George, he steps toward me, but waits for me to meet him halfway. His gaze is almost blank, as if he’s just going through the motions and he doesn’t really want to dance with me. “I’ll spare you the grief, boss. I know you two were just trying to break it up. I didn’t know that was Roger, okay? I wouldn’t have said anything about you two even if I had known. And now they’re gone so you don’t have to torture yourself and dance with me.” As I step around him, he takes my wrist and pulls me back, slamming my body against his. God, he smells really fucking good.
“I asked you to dance because like every other guy here, I want to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room.” My mouth falls open with shock.
“Was that a compliment?” I ask sarcastically. “I’m waiting for the punch line.”
“Do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?” he questions, earning a lethal glare from me.
“Forgive me, but you’re the one giving me whiplash with your hot and cold mood swings,” I pipe back. “The other day I was a girl you wouldn’t waste a minute on because of my issues. Now I’m the most beautiful girl in the room.” The band starts playing I Believe in Love by Don Williams when George snakes one arm around me, resting a firm hand on the small of my back. His other hand finds mine and holds it to his chest. My traitorous body simply, and stupidly, falls into rhythm with him as he begins to sway.
As he pulls me closer, his mouth is next to my ear. “Let’s put our crazy away for three minutes and just dance, Charlotte. Okay?”
Swallowing hard, I nod twice, and allow myself to get lost in the moment, drowning in the feel of him against me, the beautiful song playing, and his enticing scent. The song plays on and for a moment, I think George is whispering the words, but so quietly I can barely hear them. I know he’s only singing just for the purpose of singing, not singing to me, but I find myself trying to catch every word. When the song ends, George pulls away; his dark eyes meeting mine and he smiles faintly. “Thanks for the dance.” Then he’s gone. What the fuck?
“Ladies’ room. Now.” Anna appears out of nowhere and drags me away. I’m relieved she did because otherwise I’d still be standing in the middle of the dance floor looking like an idiot. When we enter the ladies’ room, she quickly checks the stalls to make sure we’re alone before taking me by the shoulders.
“Dude,” she says, simply. “You have just somehow created a love square.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
“It was a triangle with Misty, Roger, and George. You just changed it to a square.”
“What? No.” I shake my head adamantly in disagreement. “I just danced with them. That hardly qualifies as me infiltrating their fucked up love triangle, or whatever.” In fact, that thought makes me ill. I can’t quite figure out why I detest the thought of George with Misty. I mean, we’re not together, hell . . . he thinks I have issues, and he definitely doesn’t like me. But when I see her smile at him or him smile back, it makes me queasy.
“Roger approached you to fuck with them, ya know?”
“Who? George and Misty?”
“I would bet my life he did it to piss both of them off.”
“So you think he knows . . . ?”
“I bet he’s had suspicions.” Anna pulls out a tube of her infamous red lipstick and begins applying it.
“I’m not interested,” I tell her. “In either of them.” Not entirely true, but I’d rather not think about George in that way at all. “I didn’t even know that was Roger. A guy asked me to dance, so I danced.”
Anna rubs her lips together and tosses the tube back in her purse. “You keep telling yourself that, sugar,” she chuckles and leads me out of the bathroom.