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It took her a second to realize what had just happened. He was going to dance with her. She had only ever slow-danced once before at her high school prom with her boyfriend Sam who had both his hands on her hips and she had her hands around his neck and they swayed awkwardly to the music. This was different. This was actual slow dancing. She had no idea what to do. Elliott didn't say anything, firmly placing pressure on her hip and keeping their arms stiff so he could lead her easily around. Hannah moved where she felt he was pushing her, keeping her eyes firmly on his tie.
"Are you okay?" he asked, quietly, almost in her ear. She nodded, not caring to look up when she knew there was definitely still a few of tears spilling over. Silently, she blamed the wine. She knew better to drink when she was already in a bad mood. She always got upset. Elliott sighed. "Look at me, Hannah," he demanded softly.
At her name, her head snapped up. She still wasn't used to hearing it from his lips. "I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile that, unfortunately, made the corners of her eyes crinkle and a tear fall quickly down her left cheek.
"Don't," he asked in a voice that almost sounded helpless to her. But this was Elliott Michaels. There wasn't a helpless bone in his body. "Please don't cry."
Before Hannah could say anything, Elliott was tapped on the shoulder by a very determined looking Dan. "Can I cut in?" she asked, pulling Elliott's hand toward her.
It happened so fast, she could barely process it. One second, Elliott was dancing with her, the next, he was physically pulled away. She stood there, looking at Elliott's back, held pin-straight and she could see from Dan's face that they were arguing heatedly, but quietly.
"May I?" James asked, coming up behind her and turning her toward him. He took one look at her face and pulled her against him, her cheek buried into his neck with one arm around her back and the other placed on her upper arm. "Hold on there, gorgeous. I'm gonna dance us right out of this room." He felt her stiffen at his words and chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. If there is anyone who could get away with this, it's me."
And he was right. One moment, they were right in front of the band and the next they were in the second seating room which was still abandoned but for two servers trying to sneak a break. They quickly scurried away when they spotted the odd pair.
James lowered her into the recliner, perching himself on the arm of it, their bodies touching from head to feet. She kept her eyes closed against the curious expression she was sure she would find.
After a few moments, James was unable to keep the silence. "Did he step on your toes?" he asked and a hysterical laughed escaped her. He laughed too and patted her knee. "I always suspected he was a terrible dancer but I never thought he would reduce his dance partner to tears."
"Hush," Hannah giggled, slapping him across his stomach.
"What happened, love?"
Hannah looked up at him and shrugged. "I shouldn't be here. I've been an outsider since everyone arrived. And I should have known better than to drink."
"Let me try again," James said, patiently. "What happened?"
She sighed, knowing there was no way she was going to get away with having broken out the water works and not have to explain herself. "You didn't save me," she said simply.
James' eyes immediately sank. "What? Who? What happened?" His body was taut as a bow and he looked ready to spring into action if he felt he needed to.
Hannah placed a calm hand on his. "It really wasn't that big of a deal. I'm just over-wrought today and I overreacted."
"To what?" James prodded.
"Some guy came up to me and was touching me and asking me how I could go about pleasuring him."
James let out a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a growl. "Who? Who said that?"
"It doesn't matter, James."
"It matters to me. Who?"
She sighed a little. "Bob. Bob who is in construction."
James hopped off the chair, letting out a string of curses at Bob's character. Apparently he was all talk and no nothing to show for it and everyone knew he was a slime bucket who just happened to have been lucky enough to inherit a nice chunk of money. James stopped pacing, turned to a shocked Hannah, and his anger immediately deflated.
James's lip quirked up at one end. "Shall I challenge him to a duel, milady?" he asked, pulling an imaginary sword from his belt and holding it up in the air.
Hannah giggled, marveling at his ability to jump from one mood to another so effortlessly. She wondered how it was that he was still single. Was it by choice? Was he still in the phase of "sowing his wild oats"? Or did his silly arrogance and lackadaisical work ethic turn off the more serious women of his age? He was certainly good looking enough to get any girl he wanted, not to mention charming. She could think of ten women who would love to jump into bed with someone like him. James raised an eyebrow at her. "Thinking about me naked?" he asked with a smirk.
Hannah's eyes shot comically open and her cheeks blushed to her hairline. "I was wondering why you were single," she covered.
"Oh, oh sureee you were," James laughed.
"Scouts honor," Hannah sobered.
James shrugged and Hannah felt she had overstepped a line.
