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“Sorry I’m not a better dancer,” I tease.
He shakes his head. “You’re perfect.”
I duck my head, because it feels like too much. I’m having a hard time believing that any of this is real. It feels too good. “I’m waiting for the shoe to drop,” I say. “For this all to be one big ten-year-long joke.”
“It’s not.”
“I know. I just—” I stop, trying to think of what I mean. “Things like this don’t happen.”
We spin slowly in a circle, and it’s effortless following his lead. “Consider this the dance we should have had that night.”
“I think for that I’d need a tiara.”
He chuckles, and I feel the vibration through his body. “This is the Plaza, I can see what strings I can pull. If they were willing to set up a basketball hoop, I’m sure there’s a tiara around here somewhere.”
“That’s okay,” I say. “If it’s all right with you, I’d rather have this dance be who we are now, not who we were.”
“That’s fine with me,” he says softly.
With these heels on I can just see over his shoulder, and Lorraine is behind him now, watching us and grinning like an idiot. I bite down on my lip to suppress my enormous smile.
We dance in silence, and it feels so good, so comfortable. His thumb is stroking softly on my back and his lips rest gently against my temple. I close my eyes and let him guide us, reveling in the moment. I know that I said I didn’t want this to be a dance to make up for prom, but it still feels significant, like there’s a measure of healing in this for both of us.
The song comes to an end, and for a moment the ballroom is quiet. There’s a spell cast over it, everyone caught in the nostalgia of the moment. And then another upbeat song comes on and it’s broken, and people start to dance again. “Drink?” he asks, already helping me through the crowd toward the bar.
He’s right, I’m thirsty. There’s a bunch of people near the bar, including some of the guys that swarmed us earlier. Adam spots a table and asks, “What would you like? I’ll grab it.”
“Vodka cranberry.” I need something stronger than wine.
He nods. “I’ll be right back.”
As soon as he’s gone, I feel hands on my shoulders. “Oh. My. God. OLLIE.” It’s Lor.
“I admit,” I say, “you were right and I’m forever indebted to you, et cetera.”
“Girl, you don’t owe me a thing.”
I smile. “All the same, I think I’m going to buy you some chocolate.”
“The good kind please.”
“As if I would ever get anything less than the best for you.” I fake a gasp. And then I glance toward the bar. Adam is still waiting for the drinks, so I’ve got a couple minutes. “I need help.”
Lor makes a face, “From what I saw you don’t need any help at all.”
“I think I—” I swallow. “I think I want to invite him home.”
“So do it. You deserve it.”
I sigh. “Yeah, but remember the last time I asked a guy home? That ended pretty badly.”
“You can’t possibly be comparing Adam Carlisle to douchey Tinder guy.”
“Well—”
Lorraine leans forward and grabs me by the shoulders. “This isn’t the same. You guys have known each other for years. He’s the one that approached you, I saw it. And the way you two were dancing?” She fans her face. “There’s no chance that he says no.”
“But if he does, I’m going to be an absolute mess.”
“If he does,” she says, “I’m going to punch him in the nuts.”
I start to giggle, because it’s so ridiculous and I have no doubt whatsoever that she would follow through. I see Adam step up to the bar. “Okay, he’s going to come back now.”
“You can do this, just breathe, and good luck.”
“Okay.” The thought of doing this kind of makes me want to throw up from anxiety, but her confidence helps. “Before you go, Joey Lancaster?”
She shrugs, “He was good in high school, and he’s hotter now. I’m thinking I’ll see if he’s learned any new moves.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “Go get ‘em tiger.”
Adam turns and makes his way back to me, and nerves punch me in the gut. I clench my hands into fists and release them to try to relieve some of the shaking.
“Here you go.” Adam passes me my drink, and he has one of his own.
I take a big sip, and it helps a little. “I have something to ask you, and I’m nervous.”
“Okay, I promise I’m not that scary.”
“It’s just that the last time I did this it didn’t go well.”
Adam looks confused. “Okay.”
“I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my apartment.” My stomach rolls with nerves and maybe the alcohol was a bad idea because now I feel kind of light-headed. I can’t remember when I ate last. My palms are sweaty and I’m hanging on Adam’s expression figuring out if I’m going to need to go bury myself in a hole in Central Park.
His face turns from confusion to a perfect, beautiful smile. He throws back his drink in one go, and puts it down on the table. “Ready to go when you are.”
Sweet, pure, relief floods my system, and I copy him by finishing my drink in one long sip. “Okay, I’m ready.”
9
Adam
I take Olivia by the hand and walk through the ballroom as quickly as I can without drawing attention or making Ollie think that the only reason I said yes was for sex. I mean, I fucking hope there’s sex because my dick has been as hard as a rock since I kissed her, and every time I look at her in that dress, I think I lose a little more blood flow to my brain.
But it’s more than that. I want to be with her, in her space, in her bed. I want to talk to her and find out all the things I didn’t when I first had the chance. I want to find out what kind of things she likes to read and do, and then I want to do all those things with her. I want to know how her family is and what her life has been like these last ten years. I didn’t lie to her when I said that I’d thought about her. I have thought about her a lot in the last ten years, but I never thought that this would happen.
If I were in her position, I honestly don’t know if I would have forgiven me. I should have done so much more to help her. Telling her what really happened would have been a good fucking start.
I really should have asked her if I could kiss her first, but I didn’t see another way to show her my real reaction. And god, kissing Ollie is like…
I don’t have words for it. Never in my life have I had a kiss like that. Who knows if it’s ten years of pent-up emotions or the fact that she looks stunning tonight, but I’d be stupid if I gave up this opportunity, sex or no.
She was so nervous asking me to come over, it makes me wonder why. It’s something I want to ask, but this isn’t the time or place to ask it. I let go of her for a second so I can pull out a tip for the doorman, and he flags down a cab for us. I hold the door open for her and she slides in first. As soon as I’m inside, I pull her close. I don’t want her to think that there’s any hesitation on my part. At all. I don’t know if I can express how much I actually want this, and this is an easy way to help with that.
Besides, it’s not exactly a hardship to have Ollie this close to me. I can feel the shape of her so clearly through her dress, and yet it still feels like there’s so much hidden.
She gives her address to the driver and off we go, speeding towards the 59th Street Bridge. She looks at me, and her expression is puzzled in the passing streetlights. “This is so weird.”
“What?”
“You’re here with me. We’re going to my apartment.”
I lean down close so that the cab driver doesn’t hear me. “Want to be a cliché and make out in the cab?”
“I’m pretty much always down for being a cliché,” she says.
I kiss her, and the way her lips open under mine has my cock harder than it’s ever been and need tugging in
my gut to have more of her. I pull her toward me until she’s practically in my lap and I can stroke my hand down across her hip, savor her curves. She tastes like the cranberry in the drink that she just had, and I can smell whatever perfume she has on, light lavender and vanilla and I love it.
