She lifted her head, and he was already looking at her. Their eyes met and held.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he said with a soft groan.
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to kiss you,” he said softly.
“I do want you to kiss me. You’re the one who put this song on,” she teased, dizzy with dancing and port and being in John’s familiar yet wholly unexpected embrace.
“We should stop dancing, then.”
“Why? Because of Rob?”
“Yes, because of Rob, your six-foot-something, terrifyingly muscular boyfriend.”
“What if I told you he’s not really my boyfriend?” she said, the words spilling out before she could stop them.
“What do you mean?” John asked, still holding her waist as their spinning slowed further.
“He’s not real. I asked him to pretend, for this weekend.” She sighed, then laughed, not because it was funny, but because this was an impossible conversation. “Pathetic, I know.”
“What?” he said, pulling away from her. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I didn’t want to come here alone.”
John’s face creased into a scowl. He stopped dancing and let go of her hand, taking a step back, just as the song came to an end.
“Doesheknow it’s not real?” John asked, a note of disbelief in his voice. “Because he seems very into you.” He started pacing the room now, shaking his head. She could almost see his brain working this through. “What is he, like an escort?”
“I know it’s strange, I can’t really explain it. I just wanted someone to keep me company this weekend.” She let out a wry laugh. “You were right on the bus, he’s my emotional support boyfriend.”
John was still watching her, waiting for more.
“I felt intimidated, okay. Everyone else is doing what they set out to do in life, and I’ve done nothing. I was embarrassed.” She gestured with her hands, animated now. “I gave up on my dreams, I live with my parents, I’m a loser. You say I seem lost; well I am, I’m so fucking lost. At Oxford, I knew exactly who I wanted to be, and I am so far away from being her, fromeverbeing her.” She took a breath, let out a defeated sigh. “If she could see me now, young me would be so disappointed.” She felt her eyes well, and she sat back down on the crate and squeezed her knees tight to her chest.
John paced in front of her, tapping out a rhythm with one fist against his palm, but his voice was gentle as he said, “She wouldn’t. And those aren’t the criteria to measure a life by. You get to live with your parents. Do you know how much I’d give to have one more breakfast with my dad? You might not be where you want to be professionally, but you’re smart, you’re creative,if you don’t like what you’re doing, change it.” John turned toward her, his face shifting to a frown.
She wiped her face with a palm. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“All judgy.”
She rested her forehead on her knees. Her bladder was becoming a problem. She needed to get out of this roomnow. She jumped up, leaped toward the door, and started beating on it. “Help!” she called out. “We’re in here! We’re stuck!”
“There’s too much stone. No one’s going to hear you,” he said.
She banged on the door, called out again, as loud as she could. Then, spent, she turned to find John standing behind her. He reached for her fist, clasping it in his hand, opening it, knitting his fingers with hers as he turned her to face him.
“I’m not judging you,” he said gently, “and I’m sorry you feel that way about your life.”
“It’s just—it’s complicated,” Chloe said, and though he didn’t understand, she felt a relief in having told him.
Their faces were inches from each other now. He held her wrist in one hand, and she reached for his other hand, so now they stood, locked in this standoff, the sweet tension of simmering chemistry.
“Quantum mechanics is complicated, not this,” he said, drawing his lip between his teeth.
Every cell in her body was on high alert; she yearned for him to close the gap between them again.
