Wait, is your hair curly? I don’t remember the last time you wore it curly.
I almost make up some lie about my hair dryer being on thefritz or something that would be believable. But because these are my girls, I text the truth.
Tyler likes it curly.
I don’t wait for a response, because I’m sure they’re blowing up my phone. Smoothing my hands down the front, I twist behind my back to raise the zipper. I can’t quite get it all the way to the top and just when I’m looking for something—tweezers, pliers, anything to zip it the rest of the way—a knock sounds at my door at the same time Smudge’s barking alerts me that someone is here.
In typical Tyler fashion, he’s early while I’m not all the way zipped up.
“Coming!” I shout, and scurry to answer the door.
I swing it open, and there he is. Tyler. Who I haven’t seen in days and didn’t realize I could miss, like a dull ache beneath my ribcage. He’s wearing a navy suit with a tie that comes close to matching my dress perfectly. I look down at my dress, then to his tie, and Tyler grins, shrugging. Looking at him, standing here, the only word that comes to mind is devastating. My eyes sweep over him, taking in the way his suit fits so perfectly it was probably tailored just for him. Without thinking, I lick my lips and his gaze drops to follow the motion, heat flickering in his hazel eyes.
Wordlessly, he steps through the threshold, eyes never leaving mine.
“Jo.” He clears his throat and then tries again. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Let me look at you, sweetheart.” Taking my hand, he spins me slowly.
“I’m not all the way zipped. I couldn’t reach it,” I explain, when my back is facing him.
Stepping closer, Tyler deftly slides the zipper up, but before he steps away, he trails his fingers from my neck all the way to my fingertips. Pin pricks of heat dot my arms, and I feelmomentarily breathless, my whole body lighting up. Eyes fluttering closed, I lean into him and he threads our fingers together.
“You know we could skip it,” I suggest.
“And miss an opportunity to have you on my arm and show you off? Not a chance.”
“Then we should probably get going.” My words come out in a whisper but neither of us move.
After a beat longer of sharing his warmth, I’m the one to finally step away.
“Let me grab my clutch and I’ll be ready,” I say, not trusting myself to look at him. Running to the kitchen, I refill Smudge’s water bowl, and meet him back in my foyer.
“Ready?” I ask.
Tyler flashes me a smile. “Always.”
The school gym has been transformed into a wonderland of lights and colors. Tyler walks me in, his hand on the small of my back. Someone approaches with a tray of champagne flutes, and we each take one. I can feel eyes on me as we move through the gym, probably admiring the gorgeous man by my side.
“Everyone is looking at us,” I whisper from the corner of my mouth.
“They’re looking at you, Jo. You’re the most stunning person in the room.”
I bring the champagne flute to my mouth to hide my smile.
We walk around the room, chatting with various people from around town and school but when “Uptown Funk” starts playing, I turn pleading eyes up to Tyler.
Dancing is one of my favorite things to do, and other than dancing around my house, I usually only dance one time a year. Each summer, Penny and I bust a move at the River Fest.
“Dance with me.”
Tyler’s mouth opens to respond, but I’m already dragging him to the middle of the gym where others are already dancing.
I’m not the greatest dancer, but I do it with wild abandon, and I do at least know how to follow the rhythm of the song. It would appear that Tyler did not get that gift.
“What are you doing?” I ask after several seconds of watching his offbeat shuffle.
A puzzled look crosses his features. “Dancing?” He poses this as a question.
I shake my head. “No, Tyler. That is not dancing. You realize there’s a beat to follow. Those finger snaps you’re doing”—I snap my fingers—“are off.”
