“Does anyone have a happy story here?” I ask, in need of a less somber story.
The tension looming on Remi’s face transforms into a beautiful smile. “Got sad, did you?”
I shrug. “I don’t react well to sadness.”
And the smile on Remi’s face dies. His intense gaze lingers on me, and then he shifts his focus to the other couples. “That one.” He points at a couple standing at one corner of the hall. By the way they’re looking at everyone but the person standing next to them, it would seem they’ve been fighting. “Marianne and Joseph. A few years ago, they married for love, but that seems to be missing from their marriage now, which is why Marianne signed them both up for the dance classes. And that’s the happiest story you’ll get here,” he says, his tone flat. With that, he leaves me and joins Nicholas, who entered the hall with a red-faced Candee trailing behind.
This does not look good.
Layla shouts for us to take our respective places. “Can I give him a kick in the ass?” Candee grunts, joining me.
I pray for patience. “No.”
“A tiny kick?”
“No, Candee, you’re not kicking anyone. And leave the poor man alone,” I chide, placing my hands around her.
“He thinks I didn’t hear it, but he muttered little horror under his breath as soon as he saw me and started running. He didn’t even pretend to walk fast. He ran.”
#HeCallsHerLittleHorror
SEVEN
#YouAreMyHero
I look up and groan at the dark clouds gathering. Great. It just had to rain the day I’m not carrying an umbrella with me.
Looking at the flimsy wrap around the book under my arm and back at the heavy clouds, I start to run, along with others around me. The new book of my favorite author Susan Elizabeth Philips, “Dance Away with Me,” released yesterday, and there’s no way I’m letting my new, shiny paperback get wet.
Tiny droplets hit my cheeks, and I still have thirty-one blocks to cross. Even though back home my only exercise was running, there’s no way I’ll make it to the dorm on time. I round the corner and collide with a hard surface. The impact makes me slip, and the surface grabs my arms, pulling me up.
“Watch it!”
Remi.
He helps me gain my footing and releases his grip on my arm. “Hey,” I breathe.
A soft smile appears on his face. “Hey.”
And just because the Almighty is having fun—it starts pouring. People on the streets scamper, trying to find a spot to hide.
“No,” I whine, quickly placing my book on my chest and covering it with both hands. Seeing the book, Remi backs us to the wall so that the rain doesn’t hit us directly.
“Give it to me,” he says, releasing the strap of his backpack from his shoulder. A bag—thank God. I hand him the book, and he drops it in his bag, zipping it.
“Thanks. You’re my hero,” I say, releasing an appreciative sigh.
He looks at me for a few seconds and runs a hand over his forehead, sweeping his wet hair back, away from his eyes. “Er … I live nearby,” he says, looking down at my T-shirt and back at me. “You could wait there until the rain subsides.” He shrugs, looking at my drenched T-shirt again.
His place?
While I debate whether to accept his invitation, he removes his jacket and hands it to me. “Wear this.”
“Oh. Thanks, but I’m not cold. I’m good,” I say, rubbing my hands on my arm to lower the rising goose bumps.
He offers me a bemusing grin and leans closer. “Yeah, but you’re transparent,” he whispers, and my head drops down to see my thin white T-shirt sticking to my pink bra.
#PinkBoobs
I look up, mortified, but then find our faces merely inches apart. One second Remi and I are staring up at each other, and the next second, someone slams into his back, sending him forward. Our lips brush—shivers burst through me, and I gasp. I peek through my upper lashes to see his eyes growing darker. His hand lifts to my cheek—
“Um …” My throat makes a sound.
“I didn’t …”
Clears throat.
“No … No, of course—”
“… a mistake.”
Coughs.
“—knocked into me.”
Avoiding each other’s eyes.
“… means nothing—” I snatch the jacket from him, and I push at his chest to create a little distance between us. “Thanks,” I mumble, zipping the jacket.
“You’re welcome,” he says, strapping the backpack on his shoulders. We stand there for a few seconds in awkward silence. “So, you coming?”
I definitely didn’t want to be around him after our almost kiss, but then I take a last look at the sky, and my shoulders sag. This rain isn’t stopping anytime soon.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
***
When I agreed to come to Remi’s place, I didn’t have any expectations of how it would be. But right now, climbing the stairs of his apartment, the only color visible is brown. The flooring is brown, the walls are brown, even the ceilings are brown. With each step we take, the stairs creak, and you can hear what is happening in each household. The people here are not very silent.
Two flights of stairs later, we’re standing in front of his apartment. Considering the sight outside, I know the inside won’t be pretty, but when he opens the door—my jaw drops. From the door, I can see where his apartment starts and ends.
“Come.” He walks ahead, leaving me behind.
“Remi!” A little girl, I’d guess around eight years old, rolls her wheelchair at full speed toward Remi. Remi’s booming laughter echoes in my head as I see him drop to his knees, ready to stop the wheelchair. He grabs the wheels, making the wheelchair come to a screeching stop, and the little girl throws herself at Remi, giggling.
“Gotcha,” they say in unison, and the little girl giggles. It’s so infectious that my lips spread into a smile too. Still on his knees, Remi turns around to look at me, with the girl in his arms, sporting the widest grin I’ve seen on his face.
I love this look on him.
I stand there, allowing my heart to get lost in the amber eyes of this man. No, stop. Stop. That was not even a kiss. Don’t get all dreamy.
Is this his daughter?
Is Remi married? Is he a single dad? Damn, so many questions!
Remi shakes his head, the water in his hair falling on the girl, and she squeals in delight. The little girl meets my eyes, and the smile on her face fades slowly. She leans closer to Remi’s ear while keeping her gaze on me and whispers, “Who’s she?”
Remi’s smile stays in place as he holds the girl tighter and gets up on his feet. I notice her hands gripping Remi’s T-shirt with white-knuckled fists. She’s probably scared of being picked up.
“This is Kaci,” he says. “And, Kaci, this is Wylla.” He turns to look at Wylla and whispers, “A piece of my soul.”
Wow. That’s such a nice way to introduce someone.
Hearing his words, Wylla looks back at Remi with a soft smile. She closes her eyes and touches her forehead with Remi’s. And for these few seconds, looking at these two, I feel what true love is.
Nicholas walks out of a room in his grease-stained overalls with a bag in his hands. What is he doing here? He nods at me, and I lift one palm, wiggling my fingers twice. “I’m heading out. See ya.” He pulls on a ball cap and tousles Wylla’s hair.
“Goodbye, Nicholas. Don’t forget to bring me chocolate,” Wylla singsongs, waving at him, and turns her attention to me once the door is closed. “Are you Remi’s friend?”
Friend? I look at Remi, and he shrugs, so I nod. “His friend.” His friend who just can’t stop thinking about that almost kiss. I’m pathetic.
Wylla cranes her neck to her left and smiles. “You’re very pretty,” she praises, surprising me.
“Oh, thank you. But not as pretty as you are,” I say sincerely. Wylla has light brown hair with soft curls that reach her waist. Big blue eyes f
rame her rounded face with a small cute nose and pink pouty lips.
She blushes at my compliment and lowers her gaze. “Thank you,” she whispers, her fist still tight on Remi’s T-shirt.
“Okay,” Remi says, placing her back in the chair. I notice he takes his time to get her in the wheelchair, and she’s rigid in his arms until she’s safely seated. “We need to get you out of these wet clothes,” he says, looking at me.
Wylla giggles and I go crimson at Remi’s words. He gives me a slightly abashed smile before disappearing to bring me some dry clothes. I take a look around the room. The room isn’t big, but it has one bed in the far-right corner with a small TV in front of it, and a couch and a cupboard occupy the rest of the space. There are old plastic bottles cut in half with flowers sown in them, and a macramé hangs from the ceiling—amazing. I also notice a piggy bank near the bed made from a plastic bottle.
When Remi returns, I note he’s changed into gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. He hands me a pair of black sweatpants and a black T-shirt, and a warm feeling spreads over my chest as I take the clothes from him.
I walk into the room he came out of to change. It’s his room. I can smell him here. His room is minimal: a bed with one pillow—I just happened to see it, I wasn’t counting—a closet, a shelf with more recycled stuff, and a picture hanging on the wall, with a smiling Remi, Wylla, and Nicholas.
I close the door and quickly change. Once in dry clothes, I find Remi in the kitchen. I’m not going to lie, his clothes feel very comfortable. And his scent—ahem. Wylla is sitting by the table, while Remi is facing the gas stove. Wylla giggles as she sees me. “You look nice in Remi’s clothes.”
Remi turns his head, leisurely sweeping his gaze over me, and when he meets my eyes, he raises a brow. I raise my eyebrows too, and he simply grins and gets back to whatever he was doing.
“Come sit,” Wylla says, pointing to the chair next to her at the table. My phone vibrates, and I look to see a message from Candee.
Candee: Where are you?
Kaci: Stuck in the rain. Will be back soon :)
There’s no way I’m telling Candee that I’m at Remi’s right now because I know she’ll bomb me with a thousand text messages, and I can’t deal with this much Candeeness right now.
Candee: And the book?
Kaci: Stuck in the rain as well. It’ll reach the dorm when I will!
Finishing the text, I look up to see Wylla looking at me. Except for the color of her eyes, she does resemble Remi, and I’m itching to ask how they are related, but I can’t find an appropriate way to ask this without giving Remi the loud indication that I’m prying.
“I love your braids,” Wylla says. Today, we tried the simple side French braid. It was Candee’s third attempt at styling my hair, and while it doesn’t look perfect, she’s getting better.
“Oh, thank you. This was done by my roommate,” I reply. “We’ve been spending some time on YouTube to learn some easy hairstyles. According to her, loose hair and ponytails are out of fashion—and I kind of agree. Do you want me to braid your hair?” I ask.
She nods. “I’d love that,” she exclaims, clapping her hands together. I catch a smile playing on Remi’s face from the side.
“Okay, bring me a hairbrush and two elastic bands,” I suggest, and she wheels herself in search of these items.
“She’s lovely,” I comment.
“She’s that.”
“So, you two live here alone?”
Remi switches the gas off. “Nope, there’s Wylla, me, and Nicholas.”
Nicholas lives here? Oh, dear. Candee will love this little information—or maybe I should keep it to myself. Yeah, I must keep it to myself unless I want Candee to stalk Nicholas here too.
“Oh. I didn’t know Nicholas was your brother,” I say, instantly feeling stupid.
Remi chuckles. “He’s not. We’re cousins.”
“And Wylla?”
He turns around with an arched eyebrow. “You don’t have to beat around the bush, Kaci. Wylla is my sister,” he replies, handing me a cup of coffee.
Sister. His sister. I love sisters.
My lips press together, and my chest feels lighter.
I take the cup from him and blow at the hot coffee, taking a precautionary sip. The bittersweet taste of the coffee hits my tongue. Yums!
“This is good,” I compliment, taking another sip.
“Thanks. You can come have a cup anytime you like.”
The cup stops just before hitting my lips, and I blink twice, looking at Remi. Was I just invited for coffee?
“Here, I got them,” Wylla announces, wheeling herself into the kitchen and breaking the intense stare Remi and I were giving each other.
“Want some hot chocolate, sweetheart?” Remi asks Wylla, and she shakes her head, placing her wheelchair next to me.
Remi leans himself against the countertop, sipping his coffee, watching as I braid Wylla’s hair. I section it into two parts and start the Dutch braid from her nape, braiding upwards.
“I’ve never had upside-down braids,” she says. “Remi, this is so cool.”
“I can see that.”
She giggles and continues to comment at every moment, and each time her giggles sound sweeter than before. When the braids reach the top of her head, I shape them into two voluminous buns and tie them with the elastic band.
“Voila!”
Wylla touches the buns and squeals. “They feel awesome.” She wheels herself around and faces Remi. “How do I look? How do I look?”
“Minion cute,” Remi says, and Wylla lets out another high-pitched giggle.
“I’m gonna go look at myself in the mirror,” she announces, already halfway out of the kitchen.
“She loved that, didn’t she?” I ask, smiling at her zeal.
Remi chuckles. “She did. Her brother only knows how to do an out-of-fashion ponytail and simple braid.”
Well.
We hear another loud-pitched squeal, and we laugh, knowing she’s finally reached the mirror.
Remi looks outside. “The rain has stopped. Want me to drop you off?”
Candee and I were planning to do our nails, and I promised her I’d come back soon, but right now, I just don’t feel like leaving. I want to talk some more to Remi, get to know more about him, and get to know about Wylla.
“Yeah,” I say instead. “I should probably go.”
Wylla wheels herself to me, bending to throw her hands around my waist. “Thank you so much. I love you,” she says, keeping her arms around my waist. My heart warms at this little girl’s words. She so easily gives her heart away.
“And I love you, sweet girl,” I say, hugging her back. I don’t know what magic this little girl has, but the moment I wrap my arms around her, a calming warmth spreads over my body. I rub my hands on her back and sigh. She’s a hugger.
When she finally unwraps her arms, I take the bag Remi handed me earlier to put my clothes in and my book and tell Wylla it’s time I go.
“But you’ll come back, right?” she asks, holding my hand, and I just couldn’t break her heart.
“Of course. We have so many hairstyles to try.” I wink at her.
She squeals and nods rapidly.
Remi drops Wylla off at their neighbor’s place. She simply opens her door, and Wylla wheels herself inside, waving at Remi and me. And the neighbor, without a twitch in her already furrowed eyebrows, closes the door with a loud bang.
“She’s cheerful,” I comment on the stairs.
Remi chuckles. “She loves Wylla and cannot stand Nicholas and me.”
“I witnessed that.”
“But she’s very helpful. She helps look after Wylla when Nicholas and I aren’t home.”
“It looks like she needs someone to look after her.”
Remi laughs at the face I make. “Mrs. Dunlop has been our neighbor for years. She’s eighty-six years old, but don’t underestimate her. She’s a retired police officer who is stronger than
she appears. She has a history of firing on people with her .38 Special revolver if she feels threatened—like the one time she felt her sleep getting threatened by a loud party going on two floors above us. She crashed the party with her revolver and injured two guys with a bullet wound—thankfully, it wasn’t fatal. Not because she deliberately missed, but because she couldn’t see properly in the dark.”
“Oh my God. She’s badass.” I laugh.
“She’s that.”
With my mind on Mrs. Dunlop, I didn’t realize we’ve stopped—in front of a bike—with my death written on its license plate.
Remi hands me the helmet, but I shake my head. “I think I’ll walk.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re not going to die,” he says, placing the helmet over my head. His fingertips graze my neck at delicate places while securing the helmet—I hold my breath. He’s close—too close—and my gaze falls to his lips.
The kiss. The kiss. The kiss. The kiss.
“It was not a kiss. Stop stressing yourself.”
“Oh!” I look up to see he’s done with the helmet, and his hands are now in his pockets as he stares down at me with smugness playing at his lips.
“Believe me, when we kiss, and we will, you will know we kissed.”
I laugh lightly, trying to break the tension only to find that I’m breathless. “That’s cocky.”
He shrugs.
“We’re not going to kiss.”
He leans down, stopping when our foreheads touch. “Kaci, we will kiss. But not now. We’ll kiss when we’re unable to stop ourselves from kissing each other.” Remi pulls back, puts on his helmet, and gets on the bike. “Now, come on.”
Whaaaaat?
After inhaling a long breath to calm my racing heartbeat, I place a hand on his shoulder but hesitate. “Don’t be scared, darling. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I know,” I blurt. I know he won’t let anything happen to me—I know.
Holding his gaze, I climb on the bike, my eyes zoning on his smirking lips. I wrap my arms around Remi’s waist—okay, I’ll admit it feels rather good up here.
Darling, Dance with Me Page 4
