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He gives me a slightly smug look. “Patience, chatty girl.”
By the time we’re finished with our drinks, the lights are dimming. Gabriel sets our glasses on the bar and grabs my hand. His grip is warm and solid as he leads me through the crowd, closer to the stage. It doesn’t surprise me at this point that people step out of his way.
He doesn’t stop right in front of the stage, but a little ways back, so we’re buffeted on all sides by people. The lights go dark and then pop up again in flashes of red and yellow. The band comes onstage, and people cheer. The lead singer is a woman. Aside from her, there are three guitarists, a drummer, and a guy manning a mixing board.
Gabriel moves slightly behind me, as if bracing himself between me and others. I feel the warmth of his body along my skin.
And then the band starts playing. The music isn’t what I expected. It isn’t rock. It’s flamenco with a modern twist—funk, hip-hop, even a bit of Bollywood, blending into a sound unlike anything I’ve ever heard. Happiness is a lightning strike through my system. I jolt and turn my head.
Gabriel’s smiling eyes look down at me. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t need to. But he does pull a little rosebud on a stem from his back jeans pocket. When he picked that up, I don’t know. I’m too shocked, standing there gaping as he tucks it behind my ear.
“There you go, Darling,” he says in my ear. “Now we dance.”
He puts his hands on my hips and begins to move us to the rhythm of the song, picking up the pace as my body starts to respond. And I’m so shocked by the fact that he is willingly dancing, I can’t even form a coherent thought. So I don’t. I let the music take me, let Gabriel’s capable hands and swaying body guide me.
And he can dance. I don’t know why I’m surprised. His footwork is better than mine, and I follow his lead, laughing and going more on enthusiasm than finesse. He doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes lock with mine, and the dancing people around me fall away. There’s just him, his hips moving with mine, my heart pounding in my chest.
Warm hands glide up my sides, the barest of touches. I shiver, sway closer, my arms settling around his neck. His body is hot and tight. His palms skim along my arms and up to my hands. Fingers intertwining, he lifts my hands overhead, taking total control.
This isn’t dirty dancing; he keeps a bit of distance between us, ever the polite and controlled Gabriel. Doesn’t matter. He’s dancing with me, and I’m alive with the joy of it.
With a flick of his wrist, he spins me outward, my skirt swirling around my thighs, and then he brings me back, dips me, and twirls me again.
I laugh and laugh. I’ve never danced like this, the moves traditional and a bit old fashioned. I love it. He took my dream and made it real. For me.
Our gazes clash and lock. There’s a smile in his eyes, and a question. Is this what you wanted?
How do I tell him I’m looking at what I want? Boyfriends have always come easy to me. They were guys who complimented my body, told me I was a good time, easy to be around. What they really meant was I wasn’t someone they’d get attached to. And if I’m truthful, I didn’t get attached to them either.
This is different. I’m already attached.
Gabriel has seen all that I have to offer, and still he doesn’t take what he has to know I’ll willingly give him. Fully falling for him would be akin to tossing myself off a bottomless cliff. Down, down, down I’d go, nothing to hold on to and no way back to solid ground.
My smile is bright and painful, but I can’t let him see what’s bothering me. I don’t want to answer those questions. He seems satisfied, his smile moving from his eyes to embrace his whole face.
We dance until dawn and tumble home laughing, me more than a little tipsy.
And never once does he try for more.
Which cements it. I have to pull back, learn from him and put up walls around my heart. And when this tour is over, I have to get as far away from Gabriel Scott as possible.
Chapter Sixteen
Sophie
* * *
In an attempt to keep myself occupied with work and not with thoughts of a certain roommate, I head out early to the venue we have lined up for tonight’s performance. It’s a small space, and they’re having a highly publicized meet-and-greet before the actual concert.
The air is humid and thick by the time I arrive. The crowd outside the doors is amped up, and not in a good way. The potential for things to get out of control is high. Even thought I spent only one year as a pap, I can spot the signs. There’s a certain agitation rippling through the crowd, an edge of desperation I don’t like.
