I’d never seen him jealous before. I’d never seen that sort of murderous rage on his face before.
And, oh my goodness, it was kinda hot.
Instead of tugging me off the dance floor and away from Dalton, Jamie’s hand smoothed around my waist, his touch infinitely gentle in stark contrast to the hard look that’d been on his face. It was gone now, replaced with something more neutral as he leaned his head down. “Why were you dancing with him?” he murmured in my ear, his voice so soft with me.
I had to physically force myself to focus. “I-I wasn’t?—”
“Don’t dance with him.” Jamie’s nose skimmed the edge of my ear as he whispered into it, his breath a tremble across my skin. “Don’t let him touch you.”
Another bolt shot through me.Don’t let him touch you, he said, while his hand was on my lower back. Not low like Dalton’s had been. It was like Jamie’s hand was there more out of habit than anything, reassuring and safe, except my thoughts were anything but. “Only you can?”
Jamie leaned away as if I’d pushed at him. I only caught glimpses of his expression as the strobe lights shifted color, but his lips were parted, his eyes wide behind his glasses. The sight of him comically caught off guard caused a small smile to tip to my lips, and my fingers reached out to brush his arm.Point to me.
“Thank you!” the singer yelled into the mic. Now, the crowd screamed back. “Let’s see if you recognize this one!”
I didn’t. The drummer started it off with a cascade of beats, ones that I could feel vibrate through my chest. “Dance with me,” I said to Jamie, loud enough for him to hear.
Jamie immediately jerked back. “I don’t dance?—”
“You have to!” A slow grin formed on my lips, the mental image forming along with it. “People are watching.”
Bypeople, I definitely meantDalton, who was a good distance now thanks to the girl with thick liner who’d stepped between us. His head poked over hers, his focus on us.
But for the first time, I didn’t care what he thought.
“Think of it as prom!” I told Jamie, and I watched ashis eyes dropped to my lips to read them. “I got you to dance then!”
“If you count bobbing back and forth as dancing.”
My grin split wider, whereas his worried frown only seemed to deepen. That was Jamie—an awkward head bobber with stiff shoulders and motionless hips. Jamie was not even dressed for Downtown—he, truly, was dressed for a book club. A cream button-down with the sleeves curled up to his elbows and a white shirt underneath. Light-wash jeans cuffed at the ankles.Cuffed. With a pair ofboat shoes.
Affection surged through me, warm and fluffy in my chest. “Feelthe music, Sydney Carton!” I shouted, swinging his hand in tandem with the beat. “Be Oliver Twist!”
“Oliver Twist didn’t dance either?—”
With my hand still firmly gripping his, I pretended Jamie spun me just as Dalton had. Once again, my hair flared out, the brief breeze slipping along the back of my sweaty neck. My sneaker twisted a little on the floor, and Jamie’s other hand landed on my waist, steadying me.
His stoicI’m too cool for thisexpression slipped a little, bleeding into something that had the butterflies in my stomach fluttering.
I chased the feeling, though, because dancing with Dalton hadn’t been like this—eager, happy, like I was stoking the flame of fun higher. I placed Jamie’s other hand on my other hip, reaching up to brace my hands on his very high shoulders, and danced.
At first, Jamie was stiff, like a bookshelf boltedto the wall. Unmovable and unyielding. Even his hands on my hips were rigid, like he was afraid of pulling me forward or pushing me away. Jamie’s lips began to move, but there was no hope of hearing his words. In the strobing red and blue lights, I could read the words they formed. “The things I do for you, Daisy Carmichael.”
A wild grin broke across my lips, and then Jamie finally started to dance with me.
I’d push my hip one way, and his body would shift along with it. My action and his reaction. I made sure my moves were exaggerated, badly singing along to a song I did not know and throwing my head back as I did so. Jamie watched me through it all, a slow, almost reverent smile building on his own lips.
Lips that I kept watching. Just in case he said something.
But he didn’t.
Jamie’s skin was fire hot, as if he was running a fever. Or maybe it was me, infected with something from the bodies I kept bumping into. That had to be it. That had to be why my pulse was slamming like a drumbeat itself, and why I kept inching closer to Jamie, closer, until there was barely any space between us.
Jamie, Jamie. My thoughts echoed his name like it was a song lyric the subpar band sang. His hands were not like Dalton’s, who shifted and sought out things they shouldn’t have. Jamie’s hands were exactly where I’d planted them, all ten fingertips keeping me close.
The memory of his hands here before, lifting me onto the dresser, filled my mind withperfect clarity. His eyes, pupils wide, locked onto mine.The things I do for you, Daisy Carmichael.
My fingers inched from his shoulders to the back of his neck, tangling in his wavy hair. He was impossibly tall, but his legs were out slightly, lowering himself closer to me. Jamie’s breath hitched, something I felt as his chest rose more so than heard. My eyes dropped, once again, to his lips, but this time, I wasn’t waiting for him to speak.
