When we arrive ten minutes later, Megs and Simon are already there waiting in the hotel’s parking lot. Simon looks handsome in his tux, his hair slicked back and a cocky grin on his face.
“You look great in Keds. But in these,” Simon says the second his eyes drop to my feet, “You look phenomenal.”
I grin up at him. “Thank you. You clean up well, Simon.”
“Better than your boyfriend?” he points to Cole with his chin, who’s darting looks around us, taking in the crowd of students and loosening his collar a bit.
“Nope. He looks spectacular,” I say, wrapping my arm around Cole’s waist and tugging him to my side. The look of uncertainty on his face fades. Warmth blooms inside my chest and my heart skips a thousand beats when he pulls me to him and holds me so tightly I can hardly breathe.
God, I love him.
After a round of hugs and kisses on the cheek, we put on our masks. Cole’s is a black Phantom of the Opera, with gold gilding around one eye, and Megs’ a cute red and gold butterfly mask, the colors resembling her gown, and Simon a black and white mask that covers his eyes only. Cole glances at the hotel entrance and bites his lip, taking a deep breath as if to prepare himself for something.
I touch my hand on his arm. He looks at me, and I ask, “Let me know if it’s too much, all right?”
He nods and shakes his arms as though he is preparing for a fight before offering me one. I stare at him, worriedly. He straightens his shoulders and nudges me with his elbow. I hook mine around the crook of his elbow and we walk toward the hotel entrance, which is decorated with blue and white balloons.
The moment we step inside the ball room, I hold my breath, looking around. I feel like I’m in a dream. A band is playing a rock song on stage. Strobe lights blink on and off, illuminating the elegant, colorful gowns with equally colorful masks filling my vision. I tighten my hand around Cole’s arm. A few people wave in our direction and I wave back. We stop on the edge of the dance floor. Simon and Megs excuse themselves and wander off. Cole and I stand awkwardly, watching the crowd in front of us gyrating to the song blaring from the speakers.
Cole drops his arm and shoves his hands in his pockets. His gaze darts around us, before looking down at me slightly uncomfortable. Or panicked.
“Are you okay?” I sign, turning my body to face him.
He scratches his head and then takes a deep breath before signing, “Do you want to dance?”
I giggle at the look on his face. He looks like he’s ready to flee from this scene. “Yes.” I hold my hand out to him and he takes it.
Most of the students are dancing close to the stage, so we walk to a spot that’s less populated with swaying bodies. We stop and turn to face each other. I slide my hands up his chest and link them around his neck, making sure my tiny clutch doesn’t press into his skin and then push my body into his. Cole’s arms settle on my waist, his hands pulling me to him, holding me tight.
Crap. He is really tense.
He leans down, aligning his lips to my ear and says, “I can feel the music vibrate beneath my feet. Are you ready to dance?” He lifts his head and beams down at me. I nod.
Cole’s eyes never leave mine as the song ends and the band begins to play the next one. Our movements are not coordinated, but I don’t care. He is here with me. He stepped out of his comfort zone for me.
Being in Cole’s arms, swaying from side to side to the throbbing sounds of the fast song, is everything. I feel safe, cherished.
“Let’s go get a drink,” I tell him as soon as the song ends. I’m not used to wearing heels. My feet are killing me. The tension coiled around his body melts the further we move away from the dance floor and walk toward the bar. Simon is sitting on one of the stools at the corner and Megs is on his lap, laughing at something he tells her.
After grabbing a Coke in a glass for myself and Cole, we head to a deserted spot on the other side of the bar. Cole takes a swig from his glass and then starts to walk me backward without warning, his eyes blazing wickedly. I stumble back until I feel my back hit a stone column behind me. He undoes our masks, grabs the clutch and glass of Coke from my hands and sets them somewhere—I can’t see anything beyond his broad shoulders. He curls his fingers around the nape of my neck, leans down and crashes his mouth on mine. My lips part automatically, welcoming him to claim my mouth like he always does. He doesn’t disappoint. Pushing up on my tiptoes, I dig my fingers into his hair and tug gently, kissing him fiercely and savoring the sweet taste of Coke on his tongue. God, I love his mouth.
We pull back, panting, foreheads pressed to each other’s, our eyes closed.
“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks and my eyes flip open.
Yes, I want to shout, but I end up nodding instead.