He leads me toward the dance floor, weaving us carefully between the other couples already swaying to the music. When we stop, his hands settle at my waist, like they know exactly where they’re supposed to be. My arms slide up around his neck, my fingers brushing lightly against the soft fabric of his blazer.
Around us, the room seems to shift. I can feel people watching—glances that linger a second too long, quiet whispers traded between friends who clearly think they’re being subtle.
I lean in slightly. “People are staring.”
“Yeah,” he says, looking around. “You’re kind of hard to look away from.”
My eyes snap to him. “What?”
“I mean it,” he says, his voice low and rough enough that for a second I almost forget we’re standing in the middle of a crowded hall. “Everyone here is looking at you.”
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “Very funny.”
“Mads,” he says quietly, like I’m missing something obvious. “Every guy in here turned their head when you walked in. I’m surprised no one pulled a muscle.”
The fabric of my dress suddenly feels paper-thin, like the heat of his hands is burning straight through it.
I shake my head again. “People could also be staring because they’re mad I stole you.”
His brows lift. “What?”
I shrug lightly, laughing while we keep swaying. “I mean, I get why everyone’s always trying to marry you off to their daughters. Or flirting with you whenever you walk into a room.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You get it?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You buy flowers. You hold doors open. You’re smart.” I tilt my head slightly. “And you actually listen when people talk. Mothers love that in a future son-in-law.”
A quiet laugh escapes him.
“And,” I continue, warming to my point now, “you’re tall, you’ve got green eyes, and those stupid brown curls. For God’s sake, Ryan. Girls find that attractive.”
He watches me for a second. “Do you?”
My breath catches, I turn my gaze to him. “What?”
“Do you find it attractive?” he repeats, his gaze steady on mine.
“Yes,” I admit.
He leans in slightly closer. “Yes what?”
“Yes,” I repeat. “I find that attractive.”
A slow smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “So you find me attractive?”
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath. “Do you want me to scream it into the room?”
“If you insist.” His grin widens.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And attractive,” he adds quickly.
I shake my head, rolling my eyes. He laughs softly—and then suddenly spins me, and I immediately land my heel right on his shoe.
“Oh my God—sorry,” I whisper quickly, mortified.
Ryan barely reacts, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “It’s okay.”
