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“I probably didn’t want anyone to hear her dramatics,” she replied honestly. “I probably worried that she’d scare you away. I honestly don’t remember.” The confession snowballed out of her mouth. It seemed stupid to hold anything back now. “All I remember from that night was how much I wanted to dance with you . . . To see where the night might take us.” She sighed. “And then I saw you. You looked so beautiful in that green frilly dress. Your hair in that cute updo.” Her momentary smile disappeared. “That image is seared into my brain. You looked right at me while you whispered in that guy’s ear. Stared at me as you took his hand and led him out of there.”
“That was after I saw you with Lexi,” Sylvie explained, her fair cheeks turning pink. “If I would’ve known—”
“If you hadn’t assumed,” Lauren corrected.
“If I hadn’t assumed,” Sylvie agreed. “I wouldn’t have done that. I really thought you were messing with me.”
“And what? Did you think there was going to be some major Carrie moment during the dance where I was going to drop a bucket of pig’s blood on you?”
Sylvie bit her bottom lip. “That may have crossed my mind.”
Lauren smiled, dropping her head against the backrest like Sylvie. Looking at her for what felt like the first time in years.
“What if I’d never done that?” Sylvie asked.
Lauren was unsure of whether Sylvie was asking Lauren or herself, but she responded just in case.
“I suppose we would have danced,” Lauren guessed.
Sylvie smiled lazily, her eyes half-closed. “Just danced?” Her voice was soft, like she was already on her way to a dream.
Lauren’s heart pounded against her ribs as she gazed at Sylvie’s parted lips. “More than danced,” she whispered, tempted to close the small gap between them. To taste Sylvie again. Their kiss in the locker room had been so chaotic and brief, she wondered what it would be like to try it again.
When Sylvie’s eyes closed and her breathing grew more rhythmic, Lauren stood. Taking one of the blankets rolled in a wicker basket by the couch, Lauren draped it over her.
On the coffee table, Lauren left another bottle of water and the now emptier bottle of Tylenol since she’d tossed the ones that fell in the garbage.
Soundlessly, she slipped out of Sylvie’s house and hit the button for the garage door. Like she had as a kid, she raced to the door to beat it before the thing closed.
With a glance back to make sure the garage door was closed, Lauren tucked her hands into her pockets and started the short walk home.
Aw, shit. I still have a crush on Sylvie Freaking Campos.
