by Hays, Casey
At the memory, I purse my lips to staunch an overflow of emotions, but a single tear forms anyway. I blink; it scurries over the curve of my cheek. Kane’s thumb catches it, his palm against my flesh. He lets it linger.
“You know me. I’m not giving up.” He tugs on my hand gently. “One tiny step. Try it.”
I close my eyes. I gave up on a lot of things I loved when Dad died. It wasn’t a conscious decision; it just happened over time. I just—I didn’t enjoy music or poetry anymore. I didn’t want to dance if it wasn’t clomping along on top of my dad’s feet, and I didn’t want to think about a future. I didn’t want to face facts. He’ll never see me graduate. He’ll never walk me down the aisle. He’ll never hold my firstborn child. Everything I used to love reminded me of this—of life without him in it. I couldn’t take it, so I shut it all out. And then, I got used to living without it.
Kane squeezes my hand, drawing my full focus. His green eyes crinkle in the corners, hopeful that this time I’ll say yes.
On the other side of the windows, moving bodies glide past the glass. One of the girls in the corner says Kane’s name loud enough for me to hear. I swivel my head in that direction. She snubs her nose at me and looks away. Kane doesn’t move, waiting for me to decide. Another slow song floats in on the air.
“Now or never,” Kane slides his hand to the end of my fingers and cups them in his palm, ballroom style. He stands. “Now is the best choice.”
“You always say that.”
“I’m always right.”
The room suddenly pans out around me. The lights dim another notch, the couple across the room gets up to leave, and Kane nibbles on his lower lip, ignoring everything but me.
I don’t get it. Kane O’Reilly, one of the most sought after guys in our school who could have his pick of anyone in the club tonight wants to dance with me, his childhood friend who has no plans to give him her heart. Not freely anyway. I’m the reluctant one. And not just at dancing—at everything. He’s tried to edge in closer, to reveal his changing heart, and I push his advances away and keep trudging down friendship lane as if nothing’s changed at all.
But lately, it’s not always teasing at the diner on Saturday mornings. I’ve seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. When I have something to say, he genuinely listens. He hugs me when I need a hug; he’s silent when I need silence. He makes a joke when I need to laugh. He asks me to dance when he knows it’s time to dance. I consider all of these things, and believe it or not, nothing in me wants to tell him no.
So this time, I don’t.
Four
Kane wastes no time pulling me close—right up against him. Leave it to him to take full advantage of this moment for fear of never getting another one. The sudden heat of his body makes my skin rise with goosebumps, but I don’t pull away. I rest my palms flat against his chest, unsure where to place them. Halestorm’s “Break In” floats across the air, tantalizing and doing a very good job of tugging on my heart. I love this song, but I don’t need it in my head right now. I try to ignore the lyrics. It’s futile.
Kane lifts my arms and links them around his neck. “See? Nothing to it.”
If he thinks this makes me feel more comfortable, he’s dead wrong. My feet feel foreign, disconnected. I try to look at them, to gauge where to step, but this only results in my forehead bumping into Kane’s chest. I give up and let him maneuver me across the floor. He weaves us through other clinging couples.
Our bodies sway, slow and rhythmic. And while Lizzie Hale sings about how she’s left defenseless by the subject of her love song, I’m acutely aware of Kane’s fingers grasping my hips. I hate to say it, but I can sort of relate.
I feel clumsy and out of place on the dance floor, but no one gawks at us much to my relief. That was my worst fear—being scrutinized. Couples move to the beat, finely tuned machines working together perfectly. Faces flash blue, then green, as the strobe lights shift colors, and Kane’s eyes dissolve into shadow and reappear in a surge of red. He looks alien-like. My head throbs with the vibrations. Kane shoves his lips up against my ear and speaks over the music.
“So. Are you going to tell me about this top secret project?” he asks.
My body relaxes, relieved at the sudden casualness of his question.
“I’m really not interested in finding out the most creative way Frankie would kill me without leaving a shred of evidence. So no.”
“Hmm. I see a challenge in my future.” He lifts his brows. “Not even a hint?”
I think a minute. “Let’s just say it’s out of this world.”
“Aliens?”
“Give it up, Kane. I’m not telling you.”
“Fine.” He turns us in a slow circle. “I guess I should let you in on my secret, then.”
“Oh, so now you have a secret? Do tell.”
“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” he says with an over-exaggerated sigh. Our hips sway in unison. “But… I know how to compel information out of people.”
I stifle a giggle and lean away, my hand loosening. The hairs at the base of his neck tickle my fingertips.
“No kidding?” I tease. “Kind of like you’ve compelled people to stay away from our table?”
I glance in that direction. Through the windows, the table stands empty of everything but our soda glasses. Huh. Now that’s a brow-lifting moment.
“Exactly.” He leans in, his mouth close to my ear. “It all has to do with my inner-fantastic-ness.” He raises his brows up and down for emphasis.
“Inner-fantastic-ness? That isn’t even a word.”
“It is now.”
I laugh. “So what is this ability?”
“It’s more like a spell.” He finds my ear again, his lips bumping against my earlobe. I smile, and my cheek presses into the short whiskers along his jawline. “I whisper words of incantation, and bingo. You’ll tell me everything I want to know.”
I find his ear and whisper, “It isn’t working.”
“That’s because I have to look deep into your soul.” He pulls back. “While I say the magic words.”
“I see.” I stifle a smile. “Then I guess I’d better keep my guard up.”
“Or not.”
He winks. The song ends and shifts into something more upbeat. Kane doesn’t change his rhythm.
“You’re a nut,” I advise.
“I know. You like that about me, right?” He leans away, waiting for my answer. A strobe light slides across his face, and I catch a smattering of gold flecks in his green eyes.
“Not even a little,” I retort, but it’s suddenly awfully hard to breathe, let alone keep a straight face.
“Okay, you win.”
“I always win in the end.” I link my arms more tightly around his neck. His grin widens.
“Only because I let you.”
Kane spins me into a low dip. When he eases me upright, our noses touch slightly, just the very tips. It’s enough to get my attention. I feel his breath against my face. He pauses, lips close enough to kiss me, but he doesn’t move in. He wouldn’t dare. Still, my insides tighten. The scent of that woodsy vanilla consumes me for a minute, making me a little dizzy. And in the heat of the moment, I find myself actually admitting that I wouldn’t mind if he did kiss me.
“You let me?” I whisper, gaining a little of my footing. I pull away a bit. “That’s it. I’ve lost all respect for you.”
“You don’t respect me anyway,” he teases. Our breath mingles in the smoky haze of warm, shifting lights. “But I’ll forgive you for that since you’re finally dancing with me.”
I smile. I can’t deny how much he’s changed in the last few years, turning rugged and handsome and always smelling like… desire. This dance? It’s fuzzed up my brain, but Kane isn’t fuzzy. He’s solid and concrete and right here.
I feel strange—an out of body experience, maybe? I don’t know, but I falter, and his arms tighten, dragging my body up against his.
“You a
ll right?”
One brow loops up, assessing me, and believe it or not, I cave under the temptation. I kiss him. I don’t think; I just react. A quick smack on those full lips. And then my breath catches in the back of my throat.
What the hell?
I freeze, stunned. I couldn’t tell you what he’s feeling, but I fall somewhere between nauseous and exhilarated. I brace myself against his arms and shift backwards. My head clears, and the noise of the club sweeps in on us. We stand paralyzed in the awkward moment.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe. “I—I don’t—”
I bite my lip.
“O…kay.”
Kane drags out the word, which only magnifies the full on embarrassment that has shaded my face the color of blood. He settles his gaze on me, surprise mingling with his features. My skin is melting. I squirm out of his embrace, and his hands slide downward, landing on my hips. I’m all tensed up with momentary shock.
“You do know kissing isn’t required, right?” His brows furrow, a tease playing along their edges. “For dancing?”
When he breaks into a full-fledged smile—dimples and all—I relax, but a nervous laugh still reverberates somewhere inside my head. I nod, too many nods, and I sink into this relieved place in the pit of my very recent black soul.
“That was wrong. Really wrong.”
“Really wrong?” he questions. “You think?”
“Kane.”
“Okay, okay. Apology accepted. Although…” He leans in and whispers. “I can’t say I’m sorry you did it.”
My cheeks flame.
“You’re not helping.” I glance around, praying nobody saw what I cannot believe I just did. And then… my rambling begins. “It’s just…I—I don’t dance. And the lights and the music and all the—”
“Jude.” He presses a hand over my mouth, stopping me. “It’s fine.”
“Okay,” I nod again. His hand slides to my chin where he pinches it between his thumb and forefinger. He licks his bottom lip, leaving it moist and shiny under the lights. I groan inside. Really?
This is so messed up.
“The song isn’t over,” he says.
His voice is just the right tone and tempo to ease the tension. His hands drop to my waist. He smiles, and I feel so awkward. A few steps, and he slides his hands around me and clasps them together against my lower back. I stiffen just a little.
I can hardly look at him. This is not me, and I think I might be sick. So stupid. Kane must read the thoughts tumbling through my brain. He gives me a little squeeze.
“Hey.” He dips his head. “So we kissed for two seconds. Who cares?” He meets my skepticism with a smile. “I’m already over it.”
The song ends, and I twist out of his arms. I can’t trust myself with another dance.
“On a bright note, no one stole the table.” Kane gestures through the glass windows, and I look.
“That’s a miracle.” It’s literally impossible. I give him a sidelong glance as we move into the room. “Compelling, huh?”
“Or we just got lucky.” He winks. The change in conversation drags things slightly back into perspective, but I still feel weird. I guess I’d forgotten what dancing does to you. I steal a glance; he stares straight at me, the gold hue and all, and I wish I didn’t notice things about him. They weaken my resistance. I fumble with my ruby as I climb back onto my stool.
“Listen, Kane—”
“I know what you’re gonna say.” He stops me. “No one saw. It stays between us.”
Proof once again of how well he knows me. And now I feel just lousy.
I spot Devan making a slow battle past the windows and through the gyrating bodies to the pool room entrance. She waves and makes her way over.
“This place is a madhouse tonight,” she huffs as she takes the stool beside me. She adjusts her dress. “I swear I’ve been accosted twelve times already.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t wear so many sequins,” Kane suggests, wagging a finger at her dress. “I read somewhere they attract losers.”
“Well, you’re sitting here, aren’t you?” Her words are smooth as ice, and I laugh. Victorious, she takes a sip of the watered-down soda I bought her over an hour ago before honing in on him. This is what I needed. Thanks to Dev, the friendship balance at the table is restored. I relax into it.
“I admit… that was good.” Kane leans on his elbows, shaking his head.
“Why, thank you.” She lifts her drink. “Tommy found our song in his collection. Jonas texted. He got off early and should be here in fifteen, and Tommy’s going to play it.”
By “our song” she means the first song she and Jonas ever danced together. You know, one year anniversary and all that. What’s a celebration without the first song? She takes another sip of soda and makes a face.
“This is awful. Kane, will you get me another one? Pretty please?”
“After the abuse I just took?”
“You started it, and you know it,” she quips.
He swivels toward me. “You want some popcorn or something?” I shake my head, and he hops off the stool with a lazy salute. “Ladies. I shall return.”
“So.” Devan plays with the end of her straw, feigning indifference. “I see he got you to dance.”
My blood literally turns cold. In fact, it pretty much freezes right inside my veins, and a tingling sensation sparks out all over the top of my head.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah? That’s all you have to say? This is world-ending stuff right here.”
I shoot her my best smirk. “Whatever. It was time.”
She tosses me an I-don’t-believe-you look.
“What?” I ask.
“Will you just admit that he gets to you? Nobody else had a remote chance in hell of luring you out to that dance floor.”
“I—” I stop. I don’t really know what to say. Obviously, the facts speak for themselves.
“Ha!” She slams the flat of her hand on the table. “Your resolve is crumbling.”
I stare at her. “That is so lame. There is no resolve.”
“Oh, there’s resolve all right. Lots and lots of melting resolve.” When I don’t respond, she laughs, tossing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me in. It only serves to rub the irritating piece of metaphorical sand that grates on my nerves. “I love you, Jude. Which is why I always call it like I see it.”
“Lucky me,” I retort. I catch a whiff of buttery popcorn when a guy walks by, and my stomach rumbles.
“So you’ve been friends for a while.” Devan squeezes me up against her side with a little shake. “So what? Jonas and I were friends first.”
“Yeah, for a couple of years. This is different.”
“No, it isn’t. He likes you.” She criss-crosses her fingers over each other in demonstration. “You like him. The end.”
“No, I don’t.” That kiss stabs at me. I swallow and concentrate on the music for a second. “And he doesn’t ‘like’ me. It’s all just fun and games with us, so stop fueling the fire with your little assumptions. I don’t need it.”
“Oh. So if I don’t speak up, he’ll stop liking you. Is that what you think?”
“He. Doesn’t. Like. Me.” I pin her with each word. She leans back, swivels on her stool a little.
“Whatever. It’s your life. If you want to be alone and miserable when you have someone as perfect as Kane O’Reilly falling over you, that’s your business. But I know what I see with my own eyes. You may be long-time best friends, but he’s hooked. So when you let him down, let him down easy.”
Let him down? I cringe inside.
Why in the world did I kiss him? I must have momentarily lost my mind.
I refocus on Devan who has popped out a tiny mirror and works at reapplying her bright red lipstick while she shifts back and forth in her seat to the beat of the music. Now that’s talent.
“You think Kane is perfect?” I lean on my propped palm and wait for her answer. I’ve known Kane a long ti
me. He’s pretty amazing in my mind, but I’m actually curious to hear Devan’s assessment.
“For you… he’s perfect.” She blots her lips together.
“But… how do you know?”
She tosses me one of those critical looks—the kind that concludes how exasperating she currently finds me. “Anybody watching you two dance tonight would know. Shoot, a blind person would know.”
“You watched us dance?”
My skin prickles. Or kiss?
“I saw you,” she reiterates.
“It doesn’t matter.” I straighten and shove the notion away with finality. “I won’t risk my friendship with Kane. That could be a train wreck.”
“Jude,” Devan sighs and wraps a warm hand over my clenched fist. “You know that isn’t how it would go down. If you took the time to really look, you’d know. He’s already here; he knows who you are. You’re his perfect match. And in my opinion, you’ll cause the train wreck by rejecting him.”
I maintain a face of stone, but every blood cell in my body is on high alert, kicking up the speed of my heart. Even if neither of us says a word, Devan will find out about that kiss. I’ve teased often about her ‘gift’ of reading emotions, but between you and me, I think it’s the real deal. And I don’t need to be here giving out all sorts of signals she’ll pick up on when Kane gets back. I take a long sip of my watered-down soda and slam the cup onto the wooden table with a clink.
“I think I’m done for tonight.” I slide off the stool. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell Kane goodbye for me, okay?”
She drops her lipstick into her purse, and her hands fly out erratically in an attempt to change my mind.
“Jude. Sit down. Look, I’ll lay off, okay? No more matchmaking tonight.”
“No really. I’m kind of tired,” I nod with a small smile. “You guys have fun.”
