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“Good, good.” He chuckles.
“Go away,” Christopher says from beside me, and when I look over, I see him glaring at Andreas, who just laughs silently.
“What?” He shrugs before he walks away.
“That guy is a tool,” Christopher mumbles. “Do you want something to drink?”
“I think I am going to have something to drink.” I turn to him, not realizing how close I am to him. When I do turn, I also forget his arm is at my lower back so now I’m tucked into his side. I look into his soft eyes. “I am definitely getting a drink,” I whisper.
“I’ll go get you one,” Christopher offers but doesn’t move from beside me.
“In order to do that, one must move.” I giggle like a schoolgirl.
“Yeah.” He looks into my eyes and then down at my lips. My heart skips a beat as he moves his hand to my hip, squeezing it a second before he lets me go and walks over to the bar. I try not to watch, but I fail. I also remember that I never told him what I wanted to drink, but whatever it is he gets for me, I’m going to drink it.
I didn’t even look around at the event space. It looks like an enchanted forest. The lights are dim, so it shows the fake trees that look like they are all white with blue and pink lights. Black tablecloths are over every table with white picket chairs. “Here,” Christopher says to me, handing me a glass of white wine.
“Who said I wanted white wine?” I try to keep a straight face when I see his eyes go big as he looks at me and then the glass in his hand.
“You always drink white wine.” He holds up the glass. “But I can go and get you something else.”
“I’m just playing with you.” I smile at him as I take the glass from him. Our fingers graze at the handoff, making my hand tingle from the tips of my fingernails to my elbow. “Thank you,” I say, holding up the glass and taking a sip.
“We should sit,” he suggests, looking around when he sees people starting to sit at tables.
“Are you here by yourself?” I ask, and his head tilts to the side as his eyebrows pinch together in confusion. “I don’t know if you have a date for this thing.”
“In the past seven months, when have I had a date?” he asks, and I roll my eyes.
“Keely was at your game,” I point out to him.
“That was date one and none,” he mumbles, and I try not to let his words get me excited. “Let’s go sit with Cole and Brittany.” He motions to the side with his head.
I nod as we walk across the dance floor to the table where Cole and Brittany are sitting and talking to each other. “Is this seat taken?” Christopher asks, and Brittany gasps when she sees me.
“I’m so happy you came.” She gets up from her seat to come over to me. “I didn’t want to pressure you, but”—she kisses my cheek—“I’m glad you came.”
“Thank you,” I reply, smiling at Cole, who comes to me and also kisses my cheeks.
“Love that dress,” Brittany compliments while Christopher pulls out a chair for me to sit in, and I smile at him.
“Thank you,” I say to him, then turn back to Brittany, who sits next to me. “It’s from a new up-and-coming designer I’m working with,” I state proudly, and her eyes almost bulge out of her head.
“You have a job?” she asks, and I nod before taking another sip of wine. “Tell me everything. I feel like I know nothing.”
“Yeah.” I look over at Christopher, who takes the seat next to me, holding his tie as he sits down. Brittany and I chat back and forth about what I’ve been up to. The table fills with a couple more people, all shocked and a little surprised to see me, but all of them cordial.
The head of the hospital fundraising committee comes up to give a speech as food is passed out. I finish the glass of wine and another is quickly poured for me by a passing server. I sit with my hands in my lap while Christopher stretches one arm around my chair, something he’s done in the past, but I’ve never been affected like I am right at this moment. I try to focus on the speech, but the only thing I can think of is the heat of his hand near my back. “And with that, I announce that the dance floor is now open,” he says as a song comes on.
Cole gets up from his seat, grabbing Brittany’s hand and pulling her to the dance floor that’s getting full by the second. Christopher pushes his chair away from the table, and I look up at him as he holds out his hand to me. “Let’s go.”
“Is that your way of asking me to dance?” I put the napkin that is on my lap back on the table.
“This may be why you don’t have a date,” I joke with him, but even though saying the words as a joke, it bothers me. I put my hand in his as he leads me to the dance floor. He wraps his free hand around my waist, while he tucks the hand he was holding to his chest. I put my free arm on his elbow.
“I don’t have a date,” he leans in to whisper in my ear, “because I don’t want to have a date.”
“Good to know.” I try to ignore the way the back of my neck heats as he moves us in a circle. “Why don’t you want to have a date?”
