“I thought we did,” she murmured. “But if we were both so clear about it, what are we doing now?”
“Exploring other options?” I wasn’t sure exactly what I meant. “Or just dancing. Dancing is good.”
“Dancing is very good. But we’re not just dancing. We’re dancing together after we slept together.” When I started to interrupt to correct her, she shot me a glare. “Okay, after we had sex. We’re not just two people flirting at a wedding. We have a history. It might be a brief history, but it’s still there. We had sex with no intention of it going anywhere.”
“Who says it’s going somewhere?”
Amanda shook her head a little. “Your hand on my ass says that.”
“Really? What does my hand on your ass say?” I traced the tantalizing curve lightly, grateful for the dim lighting that let me be a little more daring than I might have been otherwise.
“It says you expect a repeat tonight of what happened between us before.” She leaned back a little to look up at me. “Doesn’t it?”
I frowned. “I don’t know yet. I don’t have a game plan here, Amanda. I didn’t intend to want to see you again.”
“If we hadn’t both been here at the wedding, would you have tried to see me again? Would you have cared?” She studied me.
“I have no idea, because I knew I would. When I left your apartment that morning, we talked about the wedding.” I was quiet for a minute. “But if I’m being honest ... yeah, I think I would have wanted to call you. I would have thought about you, just like I have been. I didn’t want to, but I did.”
“Did you ever think that maybe it’s because of the wedding? You know, like, what’s between us seems like more than it is, because we met at the engagement party, and now we’re at a wedding.” Someone bumped into us, and Amanda pressed closer to me, her breasts crushing into my chest.
“You mean you think the romance is contagious? That’s bullshit. I’ve been going to weddings as long as I can remember. Big family, lots of cousins getting married. I’ve met women at some of them, and sometimes, I’ve had sex with those women. I’ve never wanted to see any of them again after. I didn’t care. I can’t even remember their names.”
“You’re not making a case for your lack of assholeryness,” Amanda remarked.
“Not trying to.” I shrugged. “I’m just explaining to you why the fact that we met at a wedding isn’t why I like you.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You like me?”
“Of course, I like you. I liked you the first night we were together. Didn’t you like me?” I stopped moving for a minute, staring down at her, waiting.
“Yes.” She didn’t sound sure. “I did. I do. I’m not really sure why, though. I’ve never known anyone like you, Vincent. You’re kind of outside my norm, and you’re definitely outside my comfort zone.”
“Mmmmm.” I really liked that idea. “Why? What makes me so different?”
“I don’t know that, either.” Her voice held a hint of frustration. “That’s been bothering me for a while. I don’t want to think it’s because ...” She trailed off, and a slight frown wrinkled her forehead.
“Because I’m outside your social class?” I suggested. “Because I’m not one of the guys you’ve known forever—dudes who went to school with you, who know all the same people, who’re going to end up in fancy executive jobs?”
“I considered that,” she admitted. “I wish I could say definitively that the answer is no—that I don’t divide people up that way in my mind. I try not to.”
“You’re not a snob, babe.” I spoke absently, paying more attention to Amanda’s obvious discomfort than to my own words. Her eyes flickered up to me, filled with surprise and what I thought might be pleasure.
“I don’t think I am.” Her mouth twisted into a small grin. “I guess no one likes to think she is, but I didn’t ever choose friends according to their family’s social status or how much money they had. I didn’t intentionally hang out with people who didn’t have money, either. It was always about the person himself. Or herself.”
I thought for a minute. “Who would you say your best friends are?”
“Giff and Liam,” she answered without hesitation. “I have other people I enjoy spending time with, but I’ve known them the longest. They know me the best.”
“Okay. Liam fits into the category of having money and status. But didn’t Giff come from a different kind of background?”
She nodded. “Yeah. His dad ran out when Giff was a baby, and his mom worked three or four jobs at a time to keep them afloat. Giff was at St. Ursula’s on scholarship. He didn’t live the same kind of life that Liam and I did, and we always knew that. It didn’t make a difference, though.”
“Point made.” The music changed, shifting into a dreamy Norah Jones song. I didn’t risk losing Amanda’s attention by offering her the option to stop dancing. “You’re not a snob. If you’ve mostly dated boys—men—who fit a certain stereotype, that could be just proximity and availability. It’s like people who grew up only eating a certain kind of food. It might be because they actively prefer it, or it could be that their family only presented them with limited options. Or they lived in a place where other kinds of foods weren’t available.”
Amanda smirked. “You’re comparing my choices in men with food deserts?”
I gave a silent whistle. “You know what a food desert is? Impressive.”
