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Walking to the middle of the dance floor, he stopped, and I tur
ned to face him. “Mr. Sandman” by SYML began, and I started to move my arms up to his shoulders, but then I stopped.
“I actually don’t know how to dance,” I told him.
I’d never done this before.
Taking my waist, he pulled me in, and I gasped, my arms instinctively wrapped round his neck.
“Put your feet on mine,” he said.
Without argument, I stepped up on his shoes in my pink heels, happy to just hold on. Tipping my head back, I looked up at him as he held me close and started moving, turning in a slow circle and box-stepping small enough for me to easily follow.
“You look beautiful,” he said. “Despite that nasty spill you took down the rocks at Cold Point.”
He touched my face, thankfully only seeing the costume. People watched us, but I didn’t care what they thought. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, the slow, haunting tune playing just for us.
“Reverie Cross,” I mused. “She sounds like someone who had her own bathroom.”
“No.” He shook his head. “She was actually not well off. And she was okay with that, because he loved her anyway. Nothing else mattered to him.”
I tightened my arms around him, feeling my knees shake a little.
They were young, and I understood it. In that moment, everything prevailed and nothing else mattered. Why not let them have the dream?
But Will pinched his eyebrows together, studying me. “Something’s wrong.”
I shook my head. “Not tonight there’s not.”
Just one night.
And if it was just going to be one, I didn’t want to share him with anyone else.
“Can we leave?” I asked suddenly.
He stopped dancing. “You want me to take you home?”
“Not unless you want to,” I replied, still holding on to him. “I don’t want to leave you yet.”
He smiled, taking my hand as I stepped off his shoes. “Let’s go,” he said.
He pulled me from the dance floor, the people and the noise and every care I’ve ever had left behind as excitement heated my veins.
“Have you decided what you’re doing for your Devil’s Night prank tomorrow?” I asked as he pushed through the doors.
But he just smirked. “I have ideas.”
“I have one, too,” I told him.
• • •
“Are you sure about this?” he asked as we dumped our goods all over the grass. “Technically, it’s theft. A lot of theft. And vandalism.”
“I’m shaking in my boots, Will. Really.”
I set out the candles in a vigil on the step leading into the crypt, keeping my eyes peeled for the caretaker who lived on the grounds. No one was supposed to be in here after dark, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t strolling around.
And it wasn’t like it was irreparable vandalism anyway. I had nothing against the McClanahans.
