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God. No, Juliet. Don’t go there.
I run through all the reasons that I absolutely should not find him insanely attractive. One, he’s like eighteen years older than me. Two, he’s my best friend’s dad. Laura told me her parents had her young at eighteen, but I’ve only ever met her mom until now. He has the same dark curly hair as Laura, accompanied by the unfairly dark long lashes she has, too.
And he’s asking me…to dinner.
I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from screaming yes immediately, trying to find some reason in my mind. My body sways towards him without my permission, inexplicably drawn to him. Maybe I’m just so exhausted from all the rehearsals and tonight’s performance and that’s the reason I’m half a second from literally falling into him.
Yeah right. Who am I kidding? I’m just in a trance from the sheer level of attraction I have toward this man.
There’s no room in my head for reason anymore.
“Dinner?” I repeat back to him, willing myself to stop acting like a drooling idiot. “Um, yeah, that sounds nice. I mean, if you’re sure.”
Jared smiles at me and holy hell, I think I’m melting into the damn floor.
“Of course I’m sure,” he answers smoothly.
He’s probably just being nice, I try to tell my foolish heart as it thuds away in my chest. Jared leads the way out of the reception and to the car park, and my mind is working as hard as my feet to catch up with this situation.
His daughter, my best friend, introduced us. There’s no way in hell, no matter how much my desperate delusional brain wants to believe otherwise, that he sees me as anything other than his kid’s friend that he doesn’t want to have to be left alone when everyone else is celebrating.
He probably just feels sorry for me. That’s all.
The reality check helps calm my nerves a little as he holds the passenger side door open for me, and I thank him while I slide inside. He drives us ten minutes away to a nice neighborhood restaurant, and I try very hard not to stare at the way his forearms flex with his grip on the wheel.
Again, Jared holds the door open for me, and within seconds, the hostess leads us over to a corner booth. The air is warm here, and candles give the place a cozy ambiance. Everyone else is dressed up in suits and nice dresses and heels, making my after-performance outfit feel wildly out of place. Jared doesn’t seem to care, though, and we settle into our seats quickly.
He orders us two mocktails, and I’m thankful for the fact he’s taking the lead here since I’m still floundering with my own feelings. I have to read the menu like three times to figure out what anything is, so distracted by glancing up at Jared every second.
More than once, I catch him staring back at me, too. There’s an entire colony of butterflies living in my stomach by the time our first course arrives.
“So, Juliet,” Jared says while I chew my first bite of delicious chicken, moaning as the flavors explode on my tongue.
Considering I live off packet ramen and crackers because they’re easy and fast to make between the chaos of academic classes and practical ones, as well as extra rehearsals when we have a performance coming up, this food tastes like heaven. Jared’s eyes darken, his jaw ticking, and I blush, realizing the sound I just made. He clears his throat before continuing, “How did you get into dancing? Clearly, you’re incredibly talented.”
His voice is smooth and rich, and my thighs clench together in response. He’s Laura’s DAD! I remind myself, but my body doesn’t care one bit. Instead, the idea that this is so freaking wrong only makes me squirm more. There has to be something wrong with me.
I distract myself by giving Jared the story of how I started dancing at four, fell in love with it, and never looked back. In return, he tells me what he does for work—some sort of insanely complicated finance job that I can’t even pretend to understand. Numbers and me are not friends.
Our conversation flows easily, like we’ve known each other for far longer than an evening. More than once, our legs brush under the table, and every time, sparks fly through my body at the contact. The last time it happens, neither of us move away, and though the contact should be innocent, it feels anything but.
When Jared offers me a bite of his gooey chocolate brownie, I can’t resist. Him or the dessert. His deep blue eyes hold mine as I lick chocolate off my lips, humming happily. My mind feels fuzzy even though I’m entirely sober. We’ve only had non-alcoholic drinks, and the air between us feels heavy with unspoken tension.
Jared pays, tipping generously, and offers me the crook of his arm to hold as we walk out. Somehow, touching him like this feels so much hotter than anything else ever has. So simple, so modest, and yet…my entire body feels tingly.
“It’s late,” Jared says as we exit. “Let me drive you home.”
I protest automatically. “You really don’t have to. I don’t live far, I can walk.”
Jared pins me with a stare that makes me want to roll over and do whatever he tells me to. “If you think I’ll let you out of my sight until I know you’re safe inside your home, you’re sorely mistaken, little fairy,” he murmurs darkly, sending shivers over my skin.
“Fairy?” I whisper back as we get into his car again.
He flashes that smirk at me. “You dance like you have wings,” he explains simply, making my heart flutter rapidly. “And obviously, you possess some sort of magic.”
It’s a wonder I can form enough words in the wake of that compliment to give him my address, but I manage it, and in five minutes, we’re pulling up outside my apartment. He parks and gets out, surprising me yet again.
I don’t argue when he walks me inside and up the stairs to my door because all my self-control has melted away to a puddle under his attention and compliments. I’m in so deep that I don’t even care to try to resurface again.
