Page 17 of Dancing in the Dark

I’m not leaving for the night. Hell, I just got Mia back, and our hug lasted only minutes. I’m not done with her yet, which means I fully intend to head back inside soon. But I need this first. I need the quiet. The cooling breeze. The thick wall between me and a jukebox that plays a smidge too loud. I tilt my head back and fill my chest until my lungs expand, then, peeking up at the stars, I close my eyes and hate, hate, hate how the noise inside the bar turns louder again.

It lasts only for a second.

Long enough for the door to open and close.

And dammit, I know what that means.

“I’m sorry if saying hello bothered you.”

His voice is so fucking throaty and thick and masculine. It’s the voice I hear on the nights I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t exist without first going to my room and massaging the ache away.

Technology these days makes it easy to find videos of this man on the internet, and if I’m careful, I can play only the bits that help and ignore all the rest.

“I’m sorry if touching your knee bothered you.”

He steps close enough that I smell him in the air. I feel his warmth pulsing against my flesh. I don’t have to open my eyes to know he stands less than a foot away. Slightly to the right. Facing me.

Staring.

“I’m sorry if my existence bothers you.” He exhales a tired groan. “I wish I could be what you need me to be, Sera.”

Bravely, or perhaps stupidly, I open my eyes and stop on his roguishly handsome face. His squared jaw and the stubble he never truly shaves away. His golden-colored gaze and the long, wispy lashes surrounding it.

Pasting on the realest smile I can manage, I slide my hands around and sandwich them between the wall and my back. “I needed a little fresh air.”

“You left as soon as I arrived.” He inches a little closer. “You don’t have to say you hate my guts for me to hear it, Sera. I’m man enough to admit I’m the reason you feel that way.”

“I don’t hate you.” A cool breeze whips along the street and brushes over the single inch of exposed belly my top leaves. “I’m not even mad at you. I promise.”

“I stood you up.” Sparks of shame flicker in his eyes for the mere second I get to see them, then he drops his gaze to the ground. “I fucked up. That was really shitty of me.”

“It’s ancient history.” I fake a nonchalant snicker and bounce my hips against the wall. “You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“It was two weeks ago, and I’m gonna worry about it for the rest of my fuckin’ life.” He slowly drags his eyes up again. “I wish we could go back, Sera. I’d make different, better choices.”

“Charlie—”

“I wish there was a magic word I could use that would erase every shitty thing I’ve ever done. Because the impression you have of me these days is…” He shakes his head. “Disgraceful. I wish we could meet all over again, just a man and a woman with perfectly clean slates and absolutely none of the hurt I’ve caused weighing us down. I wish I wasn’t such a fuckup,” he sighs. “Because I want you to give me another chance, but more importantly, I want to be worthy.”

“You’re putting too much stock into a single missed date.” I drag my hand from behind my back and wrap it around his forearm. So muscular, so tense and ropey and solid as a rock. “It happened, I was disappointed, but it is what it is. If I hated you, I would’ve felt relief when you stood me up. Not sadness.” I search his pained eyes. “Everything is okay. We’re still the same people we were a month ago.”

“You hated me a month ago, too.”

I exhale a breathy snicker. “Nah, I didn’t. How are you?” I give his arm a squeeze, then, releasing him, I tuck it behind my back once more. No touching. “Enjoying your new apartment?”

His eyes narrow with skepticism, my change of subject a little too friendly for either of us to trust. But he’s a man who knows all about seizing the moment, so he comes another step closer, his thighs brushing mine as gently as a butterfly’s wings. “It’s awesome. We have air conditioning now.” Playfully, he bounces his brows. “Living like royalty.”

“And Mia? She likes it?”

“Mm. Cato installed a whole-ass basketball hoop on her bedroom wall, which is actually super annoying, because I’ll have to patch the holes before we eventually move out or lose my security deposit. But Moo likes it. She thinks it’s cool as hell.”

Uncle Cato. The other other man I compete against for her affections.

“And her dance recital? That was Thursday night, right?” I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and search his eyes. “I’ve been wanting to ask…”

Melancholy pulses heavily in the air between us. “She didn’t dance.”

“Oh… I…” I frown. “Was she unwell or something?”