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I laugh and set my beer back on the bar top. Holding my hand out to her, she beams as she accepts it. We find an empty spot on the outskirts of the crowd. While Ma and I move around the floor, my eyes can’t help but stray back to Riley. She commands the room without even realizing it. Maybe not the room after all. Looking around, I notice that I’m the only one fixated on her.
“That girl still loves you, Cooper.” Ma must know exactly where my head’s at.Was I that obvious?“Make her see that you do, too.”
I shake my head. I’m not sure she’d even believe me at this point. When I look up, I realize Ma has somehow steered us right next to Austin and Riley.
“Hi, Mrs. Graham,” Riley says with a genuine smile. Her attention then turns to me, and it fades.
I swallow down that gutting feeling.
“Hello, dear,” my mother says sweetly before leaning close to my ear so only I can hear what she’s saying. “Sometimes we just need a little push.”
Huh? What is she talking about?I don’t have time to ask before she’s giving me more than a slight nudge directly toward Austin and Riley, barreling right between the two of them.
“Ma,” I shout in shock.
“I am so sorry, silly me,” Ma gasps. She has both hands pressed to her chest. “Come on, Austin, spin me around the floor. I’m clearly not a good dancing match for my son, and you were always my favorite partner.”
Austin’s gaze bounces back and forth, and he must sense something in my mother’s expression. “Of course,” he chuckles.
Riley and I stand there, staring as the crowd continues to move around us. She turns to walk away, but my mother’s words replay in my head—sometimes we just need a little push.She had said the same thing during our conversation that landed me working at the high school.
“What? Don’t you think you can spin circles around me anymore, Riles?”
She halts at the nickname that still rolls perfectly off my tongue.
“You probably don’t even remember how to dance, city boy.”
I place my hand on my chest, pretending to be offended by her words as I close the small gap between us. “City boy, huh?”
A mischievous smile takes over her face, and I don’t know if I should be excited or nervous by the glint in her eye.
“Maybe that’s why even your mama doesn’t wanna dance with you and picked a better partner.” She places her hand in mine. “I don’t wanna get run over. Don’t hurt me, Cooper Graham.”
She freezes at her words, and so do I.Don’t worry, baby. I’m done hurting you.
I don’t allow her to get lost in her head because I swing her out and back into my arms. We follow the movement of the crowd, and I spin her every so often. Her dark waves sway in the breeze each time she spins, and I relish in her scent of lavender that surrounds me. It’s always brought peace to my frazzled nerves. I even went as far as buying a bottle of her lotion and kept it in my gym bag and would inhale it before every game. What can I say? I’m a glutton for punishment.
“Not so bad, Graham. Maybe it was your mama who has two left feet. But I swear to God I will kill you in your sleep if you ever repeat that. You will be done and buried before anyone realizes you’re gone.”
My eyes widen at her threat. “I wouldn’t dare.” I pause, worried that the next words out of my mouth will push her out of my reach. “Or maybe it was just that I didn’t have the right partner.”
Her browneyes dip down to my lips for a moment—it’s so fast that if I hadn’t been so focused on her, I may have missed it—before lifting to my own. I watch her throat work as she swallows slowly before she speaks. “Maybe.”
That one word makes my heart flutter with hope. Neither of us speaks after that as we lose ourselves on the dance floor for the rest of the song.
With a few final spins, the crowd erupts in cheers around us. I dip her back as the last note of the country song plays. Our chests are flush against each other, and our breaths blend as we both pant. I don’t know how long we stare at each other until a bucket of ice water douses us, attempting to extinguish the flame between us. I don’t mean literally a bucket of ice water. This isn’t likeCarrieor anything.
The song changes from the upbeat Luke Bryan song to a slow one, but not just any song—one that both Riley and I are extremely familiar with.
She quickly stands, brushing off her outfit. She curtsies as if she had just performed onstage. “Thanks for the dance,” she mutters, looking anywhere but at me. She goes to turn, but I don’t let her get too far. I reach out and grab her hand and pull her tight against me.
“One more, Riles.”
She doesn’t respond with words, but I let out a breath of relief as she stands straighter and places her free hand on the back of my neck while still holding my other hand.
At first, it feels almost as if we are middle schoolers dancing awkwardly for the first time. That’s not going to work for me. I tug her a smidgen closer, and thankfully, Riley doesn’t put up a fight and instead settles against my chest. Can she feel my heart beating erratically in my chest?
We sway slowly to the tunes of Trisha Yearwood.
