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Luca and I swung by the beach bar for the resort’s signature cocktail, which was thankfully stronger than the sangria. However, my renewed buzz wasn’t enough to erase my self-consciousness when we hit the makeshift dance floor.
I’d never been a great dancer. I took the requisite ballet lessons as a kid and stopped when Madame Olga dismissed me as one of her “most difficult” pupils. I tried ballroom dancing when I was older and didn’t fare much better.
When I went out with my friends, I could lose myself in our group and not worry about how stupid I looked, but I didn’t have Vivian, Isabella, or Alessandra to shield me here. It was just me, the music, and a dozen pair of eyes that were inexplicably trained on me.
“Whoa.” Luca half laughed, half winced when I accidentally stepped on his foot. He steadied me with a hand on my hip.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have gotten that drink earlier.”
My cheeks heated. The song hadn’t finished, and I already regretted my decision.
“It’s okay.” Despite his drunkenness, Luca picked up on my embarrassment. “Here.” He placed his other hand on my hip. “Let’s try—”
“Don’t bother.”
My spine stiffened at the familiar voice behind me.
“You’re so drunk, you’ll be lucky if you don’t take both of you down.” An edge ran beneath Xavier’s otherwise affable tone. “Why don’t you sober up and come back?”
Luca glanced at his friend, then at me. He dropped his hands and stepped back. “Good idea.”
I crossed my arms and didn’t move while Xavier came around to face me. “Here I thought you were perfect at everything.” The edge was gone, replaced by a teasing lilt. “I need to give you dance lessons. Can’t have you making me look bad in front of my friends.” He’d changed out of his earlier outfit into a white linen shirt and casual pants. Here, in the glow of the firelight, with his hair tousled by the wind and his muscles loose from drink and relaxation, he was disturbingly, devastatingly attractive.
Freed from the weight of sobriety, I could even admit that my dislike of him partly stemmed from envy. What was it like to live life so carefree every day? To not worry about being perceived by others or being good enough, successful enough,impactfulenough to justify my existence?
My throat dried before I shook off the unwanted thoughts. “Look bad?” I covered up the momentary lapse in my defenses with a defiant chin tilt. “I’m the one who apparently can’t dance, not you.”
“We can change that. I’ve been told I’m an excellent instructor.”
“Doubtful.”
“You always underestimate me.”
“And you always provoke me.”
He gave a casual shrug. “I like it when you get mad. Proves you’re not an ice queen after all.”
My buzz disappeared fast enough for me to feel the punch of his words.
If you weren’t such an ice queen all the time, maybe I wouldn’t have gone looking elsewhere.
She’s hot, but I bet she’s frigid in bed…
For God’s sake, Sloane, smile. Why can’t you look happy for once?
The pressure returned. A lump crawled into my throat, but as always, my eyes remained dry.
No wonder people called me an ice queen. I couldn’t even show emotion properly.
Xavier must’ve noticed the sudden shift in my mood because his smile vanished. “Hey, I wasn’t—”
“I have to go.” I pushed past him, my chest tight. His hand touched my shoulder. “Sloane—”
“Don’t touch me, and donotfollow me.” I injected my trademark coldness into my words. “Enjoy the rest of the party.”
I shrugged him off and didn’t stop walking until I’d locked myself in my bathroom and turned the shower on at full blast.
I didn’t care that I’d already showered a few hours ago. I needed something to drown out the noise in my head.
