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“Not really. This one played a lot of elevator music.” She scrunches up her nose and glances back out at the vineyard before her eyes come back to mine. “How long was I standing here? I think I completely spaced out.” She pauses and lightly chuckles. “Probably not a good music choice for the party.”
“I’d say not. Hopefully, there are other options. I know a lot of the good ones are probably booked.” I mumble the last part, more to myself than anything. It won’t be much of a party without entertainment. I guess there’s always karaoke, but I don’t want everyone that drunk.
“Most of them, yeah. But a few of them had some last-minute cancellations. The next one is supposed to be pretty good. And they gave me a potentially amazing idea.”
“Am I going to like it?”
“If you don’t, that’s on you. It’s not my fault you lack imagination.”
I smirk, her insult lacking bite. She must feel it too, the shift between us, the energy in the air drawing us together, and I don’t know if I have the strength to resist. So I don’t. I take a step closer to her, and take a deep breath, smelling her lemon-scented shampoo. A scent that connects me to the version of us stuck in the past and makes me think there might be a chance to fix my mistakes.
“Tell me.” My voice is low, raspy, barely recognizable.
She shivers, her eyes darkening. “Let me show you instead.”
I nod and take another step closer. I know we’re talking about music, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’re standing on the precipice of so much more. That this might be more significant than a superficial conversation.
Violet presses a few things on her phone and when the music plays, I have to admit, I’m a little taken aback by the Latin flair. I have questions, multiple questions, but I forget all of them as she sways and dips her hips to the beat.
Whatever her idea is, I’m sure I’ll love it. Anything to keep her dancing like that. Literally anything. I won’t hesitate to sit in an ice bath while a black-market dealer cuts out my kidney to sell to the highest bidder. I’m partial to my kidneys, so I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, I’m there.
She takes a few steps away from the railing and holds her hands out for me to join her. I can’t dance. I’ll be the first to admit it. I lack the skills to do even the simplest dances. The sprinkler, the shopping cart, starting the lawnmower. It all looks like I’m having a severe seizure. And that’s on a good day.
Of course, I’ve had to occasionally but always against my will. I’m a very combative dance partner. I have my box that I stay in as I sway back and forth, and I don’t deviate. I have no moves and no rhythm. She has both.
I shake my head and motion for her to keep dancing without me.
“Don’t think you’re getting out of this one, Donny. Dance with me, and I’ll tell you my spectacular idea.” Her hands are back out and she’s beckoning me to her with the crook of her finger. I can feel my resolve crumbling away bit by bit, but I stay rooted in place.
“I can’t dance.”
A slow smile spreads across her face, and Violet steps toward me, still entrancing me with the swing of her hips. Those things are dangerous, hypnotizing, but I can’t say I mind being under her spell. “Everyone can dance.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” The corner of my lips quirks up, and I suppress the urge to explain to her just how terrible I am. She doesn’t need any more ammo to make fun of me.
“You never know unless you try.”
I’ve tried, and I know my limitations. But before I can open my mouth to respond, Violet grabs my hands and pulls me toward her.
Her small hands settle in mine, her fingers curling around my palm, and I’m lost. It’s like I have complete tunnel vision, and she’s standing at the end, her fists firmly planted on her hips, waiting for me to catch up.
The music dims into the background, and the vineyard fades away into the heated summer breeze. Her breath comes out in shallow pants, her eyes alight with elation, and as she pulls me closer, the air sizzles around us. Just like that, with one simple touch, she’s erased all of my reasons for not dancing with her.
“Put your hand here.” She guides my hand up her side to rest high on her torso. Her arms drape over mine, and I nearly swallow my tongue.
This hollow feeling in my stomach, the perpetual lump in my throat, the way my skin buzzes through with every touch—this, right here, is why I’ve always avoided her. And hell, it’s why I should avoid her now.
“And then you hold my hand like this.” Her words trail off as she folds her hand in mine.
We’re feet apart, but I swear I can feel her wrapped around me, suffocating me, yet giving me every reason to be alive.
She pushes and pulls against me, moving us forward and back. I move stiffly, and I’ve never been so aware of my feet. The last thing I want to do is trample hers so I’m overthinking every single step.
“I told you I’m not very good.”
Her brows draw together as she takes me in, her gaze moving from shoulders to hips. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a little rigid. Do you ever just let yourself feel?”
She makes me feel. She makes me feel so many conflicted things I don’t know what to do with myself. The last time I felt, I almost took things too far. Even after all this time, I can still feel the same desperate pull I have to be near her. A tether between our bodies that only gets stronger the longer we’re together. If I let myself feel, I may give into the effect she has on me, the desperate yearning to pull her face to mine and never let her go.
