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“Handsome, huh?” Her nose crinkles with amusement as she tips her invisible hat to me. “I do look rather dapper.”
I laugh, ducking my head and mussing my hair again. “Pretty…you look really pretty.”
When I glance back up, she’s glowing.
Our eyes ignite with more than a flame, with more than the smoky tension filling the space between us.
I see dancing clouds and bright blue skies.
Rainbows and lullabies.
Toy elephants and kindred promises.
Deep within her crystalline stare, I see a love that burns stronger than any wicked firestorm threatening to torch us into cinders.
Maybe that’s what’s different tonight. Our desire to maintain our precious bond feels bigger than our desire. That could be because we’re back in our old house, surrounded by wholesome memories, reminded of our childhood when we sweep down every hallway and turn every corner. Photographs litter the walls. Nostalgia thickens the air.
Theo feels closer than ever.
In the five days following our brush with temptation the prior weekend, I’ve been reflecting on Kip’s words of caution, advice born from his own terrible tragedy:
“There are worse things than loving the wrong person. And that’s losing them.”
I’ll lose June by loving her the wrong way.
She’ll slip through the cracks of my fingers like gunpowder.
And Kip is right… I’ve lost too much already.
Luckily, June doesn’t recall our heated rendezvous on Kip’s couch—and if she does, she’s been faking it well. I kept my promise and haven’t dared remind her of the way she brazenly came on to me with lust in her eyes and wicked words on her tongue.
Words that have filtered through my brain on repeat all week…and are reappearing right at this very moment.
Damn it.
Doing a little twirl in front of the mirror, June curtsies before me, still smiling wide. “Okay, let’s go,” she says, floating over to me in her ballet flats and linking our hands together.
I try to ignore the heat that creeps up my arm when our fingers interlock, and I try to suppress the fuzzy feeling that zaps my heart when she glances up at me with that same sweet smile and doe eyes. Clicking my teeth, I ruefully pull free of her hold the moment we’re within eyesight of her parents.
It’s not really a party—it’s just the four of us. That’s what Andrew wanted for his birthday this year. He asked us to dress up, put on our “boogie shoes,” and leave our frowns behind.
When we glide out through the patio door, he’s already boogying.
The song “September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire is blasting through the speakers as Andrew and Samantha hop around the brick pavers, her in a red satin gown and him in his ridiculous slippers. He twirls her in a circle as she throws her head back with a laugh, then reaches for the discarded spatula and brings it to his mouth like a microphone. “Do you remem-ba?” he sings dramatically on the dip.
June cups a palm over her mouth, giggles spilling out and blending with the song. She grabs my hand again. “Dance with me,” she commands through a grin.
I’m pulled to the center of the patio along with the Baileys as June wraps an arm around my midsection and tucks her hand into mine. Yoshi sprints out behind us, hobbling on his old, stubby legs, barking up at us like he’s trying to sing along.
“You know I can’t dance, Junebug,” I tell her, my charmed smile letting her know that I’m still going to try.
Andrew sends us a wink as he dips Samantha again, almost dropping her.
We all laugh.
We all laugh so hard our bellies ache, and June collapses against my chest, squeezing my hand as she clumsily shimmies us around the patio. Her muffled laughter vibrates through my dress shirt, sending warm tremors to my heart.
She looks up at me, chin propped against my chest. “I miss dancing,” she murmurs, her tone a little sad. A little wistful.
