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“Yep.” I set the glass down on the counter, reach across the countertop, and snatch the bottle of vodka the bartender left there. “Guess we’re about to find out how much of a lightweight I am.” I turn to walk away, but he steals the bottle from me. “Hey, what the fuck, Reece?”
“No getting wasted tonight.” He sets the bottle of vodka down right as the bartender returns with his old man's drink.
Reece collects the glass then threads his fingers with mine and pulls me with him as he crosses the room toward the tables. I try to wiggle my hand away from his, but he only tightens his grip.
“So, it’s okay for me to get stoned before the ceremony, but I can’t get drunk after it?”
He flicks me a glance. “I shouldn’t have given you that.”
“Why? You’ve gotten me high before.”
“Yeah, and I will again. But not with so many eyes on us.” He downs the drink then discards the empty glass onto a nearby table. “Now come dance with me.”
“No.” I give another failed attempt to wrench my hand away.
“Yes.” He gently pulls on my arm until our bodies are flushed. Then he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and leans in. At first, I think he’s going to kiss me, and I start to freak the hell out. But his lips veer toward my ear at the last second. “It’s important that we look cooperative,” he whispers. “So please stop being so stubborn and cooperate for tonight. Then, tomorrow, you can go back to being that feisty, smartass, beautiful girl that I love so much.”
He has got to be shitting me.
I glare at him. Did he really say that to me?
Love?Fuck that. There is no love in this world. I used to believe it existed, back when I still wished upon stars and birthday candles. But I learned quickly that, just like the stars and candles burn out, wishes never come true.
Pressing my chest against his, I stand on my tiptoes and whisper, “Your charm doesn’t work on me anymore, but I’ll cooperate because I know I have no other fucking choice.” I start to move back when he presses his lips to my neck, right where my pulse is racing.
I jerk back. “What the hell, Reece?”
His lips twitch into a smile. “Sorry, but you’re too damn hot. I couldn’t resist.”
I roll my eyes, but my pulse is fluttering a million miles a minute. “Whatever. Let’s just get this dance over with.”
His humor fizzles. “Fine.”
He offers me his hand, and I begrudgingly take it. Then he leads me onto the dance floor, past the couples dancing, until we reach the middle, beneath the twinkling heart of the lights and the illuminating glow of the candles on the tables. As the lights dim, eyes stray toward us. The song changes to a slow one as Reece faces me, places a hand on the small of my back, and offers me his other hand. He waits for me to take it, and I drag out the seconds before I do. He pulls me closer to him until we’re a whisper of a breath away, and then we start to dance to the pulsating rhythm of the music.
I’m grateful for the alcohol in my veins since, without it, I’d probably end up a pile of a mess on the floor, gasping for air, my heart about to give out. But numbness has started to weep through my body, enough that I’m able to move with him.
“Remember when you taught me how to dance?” he asks quietly as he casts a tense glance around the room.
I swallow audibly at the faint memory that presses against my mind, the one that existed back when I thought wishes did. “Yeah.”
It was for a middle school dance. He asked a girl to be his date and begged me to teach him how to dance. I did, but in the end, his date stood him up, and I had to be the fill-in.
“That was probably the only time a girl has ever rejected you,” I mumble as I sneak a glance at the tables surrounding the dance floor.
Almost everyone is eyeing us, including Blaise and Ryder, who are standing by Ryder’s father and a man wearing a blue suit. Ryder has a glass filled with amber liquid, and he lifts it to his lips without taking his eyes off me. Blaise stares at me briefly before his gaze lowers to his hand he cut during the ceremony.
“I wasn’t rejected,” Reece confesses, drawing my attention back to him. When my brows knit, he says, “I never asked anyone to the dance to begin with.”
I shake my head. “You’re lying. You told me you did.”
“I’m not lying.” He speaks the words softly but intensely.
I assess the sincerity in his eyes from which the truth appears to burn. “You’re being serious.”
He nods, his blue eyes filled with something I can’t decipher. “For the first time in a long time, I am.”
I don’t understand. At all. “Why would you lie to me about that?”
