“I didn’t know long love confessions were a part of that,” I joke.
The humor does not land. Chesney slides his phone into his back pocket, his face hard. “You gonna tell me why your face looks like a punching bag?” I shake my head once. “Right, so don’t go meddling in my business then.”
I throw my hands up. “Note taken,” I laugh, drawing him in for a side hug. My eyes snag on something pink flying aroundthe dance floor, and I have to do a double take. “What the fuck!”
Chesney whirls, tracking my line of sight before his face turns to stone. Seems like he’s just as protective over Maisie as I am. “Motherfucker!” he mumbles, stomping over to the dance floor with me hot on his heels.
“You are soooo good at this,” Maisie squeals. The man she’s slung on whips her out to spin. Before he can yank her back, I step in to catch her. She throws her palms up to brace herself on my chest, her wide eyes sparkling under the lights. “Busted,” she whispers.
“Fuck,” Chesney mutters behind Maisie, scowling at his screen. He hikes a thumb over his shoulder mouthingyou good? I wave him off with a nod, and he storms off.
“If you wanted to dance, you should have said so,” I rasp in Maisie’s ear, smooth as the whiskey she’s been indulging in all night.
Her face sours. “Ha-Ha, real funny, mister.” She shoves me, but I grab her wrists, holding them to my chest.
“One dance, and then I’m taking you home.”
She wets her lips. “I thought you didn’t bring your dancing boots?”
“I just found them.”
“How conven-nanet,” she sings drunkenly under her breath.
I look over her shoulder at the scowling cowboy I stole her from. “Get lost, buddy.” He flips me off and finds another girl to dance with.
“That wasn’t very nice. Not nice at all.” She taps me on the chest. Her hands mindlessly play with the fabric of my shirt.
“When did you ever get the impression I was a nice man, honey?”
She huffs, blowing a curl from her face. “You’re right. It wasn’t very nice making me feel up your Greek god-chiseled ass in front of my family. I had to change my freaking underwear after.” Her hands fly to her mouth before letting out a cutehiccup. “Forget I said that. Remember, strictlyfriendssss,” she whispers, throwing up air quotes with her fingers.
My jaw grinds. I know I said it, but Maisie is the last person I want to bejust friendswith. It’s the last thing I should do, but I won’t stop myself. We can pretend for one blissful moment. I pull her into my chest, matching the beat of the slow country song as I sway us.
Her warm skin against mine feels like it was made for me. I drop Maisie into a dip that has her laughing. My heart twinges, but I ignore the pain, soaking up each angelic laugh drawn from her lips. I’ll bottle them up and make them last a lifetime if I have to.
The song ends, and I find Maisie smiling in a drunken daze. I wonder if she would notice if I took a picture to save this moment? I can’t stand to let her go quite yet, so I pull her in for another song. This one is more upbeat. I spin Maisie around the center of the dance floor like a lovesick puppy pining after her. She hiccups again after I spin her a little too hard, so I slow us down, pulling her back into my chest. Her breaths mingle with mine, the smell of cherry flooding my nose until I’m drunk off it.
“I don’t think friends are supposed to dance like this,” she whispers, her eyes glued to mine, half-mast.
“Shhh. We can pretend for now.”
A small frown works its way onto her lips. “Pretend, yeah,” she mutters. “I’m good at that.”
I don’t like the sound of that. It makes me wonder if she’s harboring secrets that eat her alive like I do. Pain sees pain, and that’s what I see reflected on her gorgeous face. The world can be cruel, but it can also be giving. It feels like Maisie was a peace offering for all the evil that’s taken residence in me recently.
The song ends, blending into an even higher-tempo song. I still can’t draw myself away from her, especially when I spot a cute smile on her face.
“This song is my jammmm,” she screams, a dimple popping out on her cheek. I want to bottle that up too.
For how drunk she is, I’m impressed by how solid she is on her feet. Her boots tap in time to the beat, her hips swaying with each lyric. An older gentleman links his arm in hers, spinning her in a circle and drawing a deep laugh from her before moving to the next. She’s spinning on her own now, belting out the lyrics.
There would be no amount of money in the world to drag my eyes from her. She is a butterfly in a world full of moths, the only color I can see in a field of grays. No one single color could do Maisie justice. She is her own blend, a mixture of every hue to create a rainbow of perfection.
“Your turn,” she screams, pointing her finger at me.
I can’t say no to this woman. I start by slowly tapping my foot and then pretend to throw a lasso around her body. I begin to pull the invisible rope, and Maisie plays along and hops towards me. She lets out a beautiful laugh when I lift her up to spin us,Dirty Dancingstyle, and then dip her low.
I lean over her, her warm breath fans across my lips as she squeals. The music disappears when our eyes collide. Our lips are a centimeter apart. I can smell the whiskey on her breath. What I wouldn’t give to taste it off her lips too.
