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I crinkle my nose. “I’m not a very good dancer.”
“It’s okay, neither am I. I don’t think?” he adds, smirking.
“You’re right. You’re a terrible dancer,” I tease.
“Well, let’s be terrible dancers together then.” Before I have time to protest, he grabs my forearm and pulls me through the crowd.
The room spins as faces I don’t know whizz past me and laughter fills the air. Everyone seems to be having a good time and so does Sam. He begins a ridiculous jig to some alternative rock song, making fun of his nonexistent dancing skills. Not that I can talk, as I’m not any better. I move to the upbeat tempo, trying my best to stay in time, but give up soon after.
Thankfully, the song ends, but when “She Will Be Loved” by Maroon 5 takes its place, I wish we were dancing toanythingbut this. Sam looks at me while I chew the inside of my cheek. I feel silly standing in the middle of the room, motionless, seeing as we have prime real estate in the middle of the “dance floor.”
When Sam offers me his hand, I gingerly take it. Looking up at him from under my lashes, I suck in a breath when he pulls me into his arms. I stand rigid, my heart racing and my feet feeling like lead. Everything about him is so familiar, but my reaction to him is not. He begins to sway slowly, and I hesitantly follow his lead. As Adam Levine sings about being loved, I can’t help but see the irony of this particular song and my situation.
Weeks ago, I would have given anything to be loved by Samuel, but now, the love that once was shared between us isn’t there. Warranted, Sam doesn’t remember that love, but I do. And I don’t remember it feeling this forced. I made peace with the fact that Sam and I may never go back to the way things were. But his change of attitude has just thrown a monkey wrench in the works.
I need to talk to Sophia. She’s the only person who can explain to me what’s going on.
Thoughts of her have me looking over Sam’s shoulder, searching the room for Saxon. When I find him, I wish I had just kept my eyes glued to the floor. He’s standing with his back pressed against the wall, watching me—watching us. Piper is talking to him, but he isn’t listening to a word she says.
I loosen my grip around Sam’s shoulders, feeling guilty—always guilt. Why am I riddled with this constant shame? But it’s too late. Saxon’s hard jaw, folded arms, and cold eyes reveal that he’s seen it all. Seen my fiancé get me a drink and ask me to dance. Why is that so bad?
I know why. I’ve known all along—I was just too afraid to admit it.
I’m torn between my past love and…Saxon. It doesn’t make any sense. But none of it does. Sam being in the wrong place at the wrong time doesn’t make sense. Nor does him waking from a coma and not remembering who I am. What does that say about our relationship? What does that say about me?
I suddenly feel like the walls begin closing in on me. Struggling to breathe, I push Sam away. He looks at me, confused. “Sorry, Sam, I just…need some fresh air.”
“I’ll come with you,” he offers, but I shake my head, making it clear I want to be alone. He doesn’t argue as I run from the safety of my home and out the back door.
The night air feels wonderful against my skin and I take three much needed deep breaths. Tilting my head to look into the clear, star-filled sky, I curse the universe. Such beauty can also be so cruel.
I’ve somehow found myself in a predicament I cannot explain. I’m changing, I can feel it. Every breath I take brings me closer to where I think I’m supposed to be. I just don’t know where that is yet.
“Lucy?” I hate myself for feeling this way. I hate that I crave him near me.
Closing my eyes, I continue blindly looking into the universe. The blades of grass sound under his boots as he walks towards me. His heavy stride hints at purpose behind his steps. The hair on my arms stands on end when his unique fragrance catches on the breeze.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Saxon, everything is surprisingly fine.”
“Then why do you look so sad?”
Sighing, I open my eyes and look at him. “I don’t know what that means.” But I do. Sadly, I do.
Approaching me with caution, he slips his hands into his pockets, appearing just as lost as me. “You’re standing in a room full of people, but you’re still alone.”
I lower my eyes, embarrassed by his accuracy.
He keeps walking closer and closer and instead of backing away, I stand my ground, titillated to discover what happens when he reaches me.
“Why didn’t you text me back? I was worried about you.”
“Everything was fine,” I reply, still staring at the ground.
“I made a promise to take care of you. And I meant it.” My heart begins pounding as he stops a hair’s breadth away.
“Sam was great today. He actually wanted to speak to me, which is a nice change. Then he got me a drink and asked me to dance,” I reveal on a rushed breath. Why am I telling him all this?
