Mainly, I just wanted an excuse to watch Todd eat. He admired my vintage table and chairs, admired my dishes—I loved how he noticed things, whether it was my clothes or my place settings—before turning his attention to the food.
“You made this for me?” His voice was soft as he gestured at the food. I got the impression that he didn’t let many people take care of him—and that not many had tried.
“It was no trouble. Something to do with my hands while on hold on the phone, really.” I wanted to tell him he was worth a lot more trouble. The way he savored his food with wide eyes and little happy noises had me wanting to cook for him a lot more. That and I wanted to see what else made him make that pleased expression.
After dinner, he insisted on doing the dishes. I wasn’t one to leave the sink all week or anything, but I also wasn’t one to spring right up after eating, dishcloth in hand. Todd, however, clearly was, even wiping down my counters and stove while we chatted more. I got him to tell me some cute dance-competition stories. I got the impression his mother had been a major stage mother, and he didn’t sound close to either of his parents, but his whole demeanor changed when he talked about dance.
“So we had this little neighbor girl who started taking basic ballroom at the place where I took jazz and tap. My mama was best friends with her mama, and they got to talking about how cute we’d be competing together. Turned out we weren’t so bad, so Hailey and I, we did the contests and Disney performances—”
“Wait. You performed at Disney?”
“Just a few times. With groups of other kid dancers. It was no big deal.” Todd didn’t look up from the sink.
“I think it is.”
“When you’re dancing in the July Florida heat, it’s less than fun, trust me.” Todd washed my roasting pan and handed it to me to dry. “And it was a lot of practice. Same as anything else.”
“Did you have to miss a lot of school? I follow figure skating and a lot of them end up homeschooled or with a tutor.”
“Yeah. It was hard too because dance was easy. Math, that I could do, but readin’—man, that was the toughie. It was easier to just focus on the dance. Mama tried the homeschooling thing for a bit.” He made a screwed-up face like that hadn’t gone well. “But then my folks split and everything went to hell.”
“I’m sorry. My parents divorced when I was so little that I don’t remember my dad.”
“Relationships are a total crapshoot.” Todd shook his head.
“On that we can agree.”
“But you help people get married!” Todd sounded like I was confessing to being the Easter bunny.
“Uh-huh. This year, I’ll be planning the third wedding for one of my first clients. I’ve already had a couple of other repeat flyers too. I love special events, love giving people a magical day, but trust me, there’s no happily ever after in store for me.”
“Amen to not needin’ any of those trappings, but you nailed it on giving people a magical moment. That’s what you need to bring to the dance. The idea that you’re creating a magical moment for the audience. And if you’re lucky, some of the fairy dust rubs off on you.”
“Shall we, then?” I raised the volume on the speakers from the soft background music I’d had on while we ate. I was glad that we seemed to share a similar cynical view of long-term relationships. It made my kissing plans easier. “I am wearing the shoes for it, after all.”
I was wearing my favorite pair of heels—black leather, closed toe with a stacked heel. The rest of me was pretty casual—tight jeans and a gray sweater, but I’d worn the shoes for him.
“That you are.” Todd smiled at me before grabbing the remote. “How about not Perry Como?”
He flipped through the playlist before landing on something jazzy that seemed to please him. “Let’s start with a little waltz to this one to warm up, then we can go over the stuff from class.”
I’d waltzed before, albeit rather badly, but I moved into the follower’s position. Todd made a pained expression and reversed our positions. “You lead. I’ll talk you through the steps.”
“Really?” I was pretty sure no one had ever let me lead a waltz before, including my sister when she’d taught me. And the couple of times I’d danced with someone like Lewis at an event, the other person always led. “We’re not in class. We don’t have to switch—”
“I like you leading,” Todd said firmly. “You’re good at it. Just pushy enough. I always struggled with being . . . what do you call it . . . decisive, unless I had a choreographed routine. You’ve got that though.”
“The pushiness?” I raised an eyebrow.
“In the best way.” He winked at me and we started the waltz with me leading and him giving tips.
The next song was more up-tempo.
“Okay, now sugar push.”
“You should be a dance teacher,” I joked.
“How about we get through a song without one of us tripping before you make declarations like that?”
“Spoilsport.” I stuck my tongue out at him, and his laugh slid right over me, smooth as the trumpet in the big-band orchestra playing from my speakers. Laughing, we made a full song doing the sugar push.
“Ready for some turns?” His eyes sparkled.
“Yeah,” I said as the new song started. “Starter step first, right?”
“Yup. Count it out if you need to.” We worked through the starter step and the throwout and underarm pass again.
“Keep your knees softer. Get your hand up higher. Right on my shoulder blade,” Todd coached. As I got more confident, the tips got fewer and he started adding little flourishes to his turns, like little kicks and hand movements.
“You totally need to message Hailey and tell her she was hogging all the fun.” I laughed as I spun him again, loving how delighted he seemed.
A funny expression crossed Todd’s face. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
It took another few turns before his smile crept out again along with his stream of tips. “Relax your elbows. And smile.”
An unhappy thought flitted across my brain and refused to leave. “Do you smile because you’re having genuine fun with me, or do you smile because you were taught to do that for the audience?”
Todd’s lips pursed. “Both? I mean, there were plenty of times at competition when I smiled even though I wanted to puke. But, with you . . . it’s different. I’m not sure why, but this just feels . . . freer.”
“Yeah.” I kind of understood what he meant. Nothing had ever made me feel like this either. Powerful. In control. And . . . balanced. Which was a corny thing to think since I was always one step away from tripping, but it was true. I was wearing my best heels and taking the lead, and that felt right in a way that few things did.
It was similar to how my favorite clothes made me feel—able to take on the world, beautifully. That feeling of invincibility kept me reaching for certain articles in my wardrobe, even when I knew all eyeballs would be on me. Maybe especially then. And Todd made me feel the same way, made me appreciate myself and who I was and the space that he gave me.
The music changed again, this time to a Sinatra song, and Todd’s smile got more wistful. “I’ve only ever done foxtrot to this piece. Man, I loved foxtrot. That was probably my favorite of the ballroom dances.”
“Show me,” I urged, reversing our hands. “Lead to demonstrate for me, then I want to try.”
“Pushy, pushy,” he said, laughing. “Okay, I’m going to show you a basic foxtrot.”
He led me through the basics. “Slow, slow, quick, quick. Now you try leading.”
“This isn’t very fancy,” I observed as I guided us around the room. “I bet you can do all the trick stuff, right?”
“I can do a little of that.” A smile that meant he could do all sorts of things teased at the corner of his mouth.
“Hey!” A thought occurred to me. “If I Google you, will I find all sorts of cute videos of you dancing as a kid?”
“No. I think mos
t of that was pre-YouTube, thank god.”
“I bet I could find something.”
“Do not search me.” Todd dropped the dance hold, cupping my face to hold me still. “I’m serious. You want to see fancy dancing, I’ll send you some links to some demos.”
“I’ve seen demos. I just want to see you strutting your stuff.”
“I suppose Gran probably has some video of me somewhere. I can check her DVDs and files. Find something I’m okay sharing—”
“You don’t have to.” I licked at his thumb, trying ease some of this tension.
“Maybe I want to.” He didn’t sound too certain, but he kept his eyes locked on my face, gaze dropping to my mouth. The moment shifted, became charged with something far more potent.
I licked his thumb again, this time more deliberately. His breath hitched. Sucking his thumb in, I swirled my tongue around it, sucking hard as I showed that while I might be uncoordinated with my feet, I had no such issues with my mouth.
“Fuck. Kendall,” Todd moaned softly and bumped his hips forward.
“Yeah.” I gave him a dirty wink before releasing his thumb. I started to sink to my knees, but his hand stayed me.
“No?” I’d never been turned down for a BJ before.
“You really want to?” Disbelief colored Todd’s words. “I kinda figured you . . . that is, thought you wouldn’t want anything like—”
I stopped him mid-ramble. “I want to.”
Todd licked his lips, nodding even as his eyes were wary. “Are you gonna laugh if I say I want to wait? Like not tonight?”
“I’m not laughing,” I assured him, stretching a hand out to stroke his beard. “But . . . not tonight?” I wasn’t sure if this was a brush-off or not.
“My brain needs to play catch-up to my dick. I’m still . . . figurin’ things out. I’m not as fast a thinker as you.” His neck flushed.
I really was a selfish prick. This whole time I’d figured that since I’d thought things through, had a Google, bought some new condoms, and moved on from my fears, that sexy-times would be ahead. I hadn’t stopped to think that Todd might have his own set of reservations.
“It’s okay,” I said, and meant it. “No pressure.”
“I want to. It’s just . . .” He shrugged. “Gonna sound stupid.”
“Not to me.” I continued to stroke his bristly jaw, other hand rubbing his tight shoulder.
“Everything’s different with you. Dancing, sure, but even eatin’ together and stuff like that. I never had that before. Before you, I’d sworn off looking for anything like this.”
“This? This is just two new friends dancing. And maybe a little more.” I gave him a meaningful look. As sweet as he was, I still needed Todd to not make too much of this. My resolve to keep things casual and uncomplicated might be wavering, but the memory of how quickly things had gone from sweet to sour with Lewis still lingered.
“I know. But it’s still a far cry from the sort of hookups I’ve had in the past. I kinda want to go slow. See what I’ve been missing. Take my time and make it . . . special.”
My chest contracted. I’d never thought of that either—from the little he’d said, his teenage years had been anything but normal. Mine hadn’t exactly been Hallmark-perfect either, but at least I’d had dating and friends. I might not be able to give Todd everything he needed, but I could give him the slower exploration he seemed to crave.
“We can do that.” I massaged some of the knots out of his shoulders and neck. “And it gives you more time to think?” I guessed.
“Yeah, that too.” He looked so concerned that I leaned in, brushed a kiss across his mouth. “I’d always figured I’d just stick with other poz guys. Easier. I don’t wanna hurt you or put you at risk.”
“You won’t.” And because that sounded a bit glib, I added, “And we can talk about risks and stuff when the time is right.”
“It’ll be soon.” Todd laughed. His smile was a soft one that felt like a shared secret. “Lord almighty . . . your mouth. But isn’t that kind of the fun?”
“Fun?”
“Yeah, knowin’ we’ll see each other again on Thursday, but not knowing what we’ll get up to . . .”
“Anticipation, you mean?”
“Yes. That’s the word I was looking for. I want to anticipate with you.”
I was pretty sure no one else ever had taken the time to go slowly with him, and my throat went thick and tight. I had to force out a joke before I got too emotional. “Can you anticipate us making out for a while when I drop you off?”
“I’m counting on it.” He kissed me then, soft and sure. Anticipation might be exactly what Todd needed, but it might well kill me.
CHAPTER 6
Todd
Making out with Kendall in front of my Gran’s house had me rethinking my “go slow” request. I’d been surprised by him being all willing to go to his knees for me. Usually, it was the other way around, but without the fancy dinner and dancing first. I wasn’t lying—I’d never had anything like Kendall. It couldn’t—wouldn’t—last, but I wanted to enjoy this sweetness. I wanted to see how it worked for other people and wanted to distance myself from a past I wasn’t that proud of.
And mainly I wanted to memorize Kendall’s taste, the texture of his tongue against mine, the feel of his breath against my cheek. I spent the next few days in a pleasant haze, remembering those kisses.
It helped that Kendall texted me a few times in the run-up to Thursday. Silly stuff like, I’m dancing with my mop. Practice makes perfect, right?
My feet thank you ;) I’d replied back with a link to where he could print and cut out footprints for his floor.
Then he’d actually done it and sent me a pic of the dog chewing one of the footprints.
Need a ride to dance? Kendall texted on Thursday. The bakery isn’t too far out of my way.
I’d been planning on busing it, but I wasn’t going to turn down the ride. Sure. I’ve got my clothes with me.
After Marcie and I closed out the front, I went into the bathroom at the back of the bakery with my little grocery sack of clothes and dress shoes. I wasn’t going to run out and go purse shopping with Kendall, but I could see the appeal in having a nice bag. It said you respected your belongings. That’s one thing I liked so much about him—his actions just seemed so full of care. Like he cared about his table, making it all pretty for our little dinner, and he cared about himself, always being so put together. I wet my hair down, trying to look less like a southern-fried scarecrow for Kendall. Same clothes as last week, but I’d added an old suit vest of Gramps’s. Tossed that on because it seemed like the sorta look Kendall might like.
When I got out of the bathroom, Vic was right there in the hallway, hanging up his apron.
“Look at you,” he said. “Where are you headed?”
Now that was a tricky question. Would Kendall be cool with me telling? I wasn’t rightly sure. But this was Vic, and I didn’t want to lie, have him think I was on the hustle or something. “Dancin’ lessons.”
“Dancing?” Vic looked like I might as well have said leprechaun stomping.
“Yeah. Swing dancing. Kendall does it too,” I said defensively. Hadn’t meant to toss Kendall in there, but Vic’s being all shocked had me testy.
“Oh, that’s . . . great. You getting out and all.” Vic rubbed his shaved head. “But, uh . . . Todd . . . you should be . . . careful . . . with Kendall.”
“I told him,” I said to the wall over Vic’s shoulder. “Everything. Okay? And we’re just dancing. Nothing serious.”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” Vic held up his hands. “I meant watch out for you. Kendall’s coming off a bad breakup, and I don’t know if he’s the steadiest of people.”
“I’ll be fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest. Kendall had made it clear he wasn’t looking for serious, but neither was I. Matter of fact, I was still sorting out exactly what I was doing here—taking the kinds of risks I’d sworn not t
o. I didn’t need Vic’s warning to guard my heart, because I planned to lock that sucker up right tight.
“I’m sure you will.” Vic didn’t sound convinced, and that irked me. Just tell it to me straight, you know? And I kinda looked up to Vic. Not in a crush sorta way or hero worship, more like he had his shit so together that I couldn’t help but respect that. And it hurt a bit, him not being more supportive.
“I gotta get going.”
“Todd?” Vic stopped me when I would have brushed by him. “Good luck. Really. You deserve something you enjoy. I hope dancing can be that for you.”
I nodded curtly, but I still had a bit of a head of steam as I slid into Kendall’s car.
“You look amazing.” Kendall grinned at me. “Really. We have to go shopping for the benefit. You wear vintage so well.”
“Thanks.” I was still pouty, but I remembered my manners. “You look real nice too.”
He’d worn reddish-pink lip stain of some sort, and it made him look hot as fuck, those luscious lips all full of sin. He was wearing a slinky tunic thing over skinny pants, and the whole package, especially coupled with his competent driving, revved me up out of my bad mood in no time at all.
At class, Chuck had us start with the sugar push and a review of the starter step. “You’ve been practicing,” he said as he came by, offering pointers.
“We have.” Kendall gave me a meaningful look, one that seemed to promise more kisses. A hot little shiver raced up my spine. Yes, please.
“All right, now we’re going to learn how to whip, and several variations. And I don’t mean the Fifty Shades kind.” Chuck laughed at his own joke. But it got me wondering, was I holding Kendall back, wanting to go slow? Was he into more of that fancy stuff? Whips and harnesses? Me, I’d never been one to need accessories for sex, but maybe Kendall . . .
“Psst. Time for us to practice.” Kendall nudged me. “Where’d you go?”
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