Page 55 of Paper Roses

“I loveStrictly,” I say far too loudly.

He blinks. “Do you?”

“Yes, of course. It’s amazing.” I’m filled with excitement and seize his hand. “We shall watch it together. It’s so—” I hiccup. “—boring to watch it on my own. What do you love best?”

He edges closer to me, eyes wide. “I love the colours and the costumes. They’re so bright. And I love the way the dancer leads his partner around the floor. It’s so commanding.”

“I like the music,” I confess, very aware that this must be the drink talking. I’ve never confessed this to anyone. Mick used to laugh at me. He preferred techno.

“I’ll teach you to dance,” I say grandly. He stares up at me with stars in his eyes, and I wonder if anyone has ever looked at me like this. The thought is cloudy and drifts away even as I try to concentrate.

I hold out my hand to him. “Will you do me the honour?” I say, bowing. The floor wavers and I lurch forward, but Artie’s hand keeps me from faceplanting. “So sorry. I think the builders have done something to this floor,” I say crossly, glaring at the offending article. “I shall have a very strong word in the morning.” I trail off. “What was I saying?”

“You were going to teach me to dance,” Artie says breathlessly.

“Yes, indeed.” I bounce on the balls of my feet.

I step forward, taking his hand again in a hopefully authoritative way. The attempt is marred, as I’m seeing double at the moment, so I end up swaying into him.

“Come closer,” I order. I swallow hard as he immediately obeys, his trust obvious.

My fingers curl around his, and I’m overwhelmed by the sense that he’s mine and mine alone. I slide my other hand around his narrow waist. His jumper has ridden up and his skin is like hot silk against my fingertips.

I lick my lips, trying to remember what I’m supposed to be doing. It’s hard when his scent is weaving around me like a fever dream.

“We’ll start with a simple box step,” I announce, and he nods.

I look down and get caught by his gaze. His eyes are so light that he looks like a magic creature, and I’m unable to look away.

“What was I saying?” I whisper into the gap between our mouths. When did we get so close?

“I don’t know.” His words are soft.

I abruptly give up. Why am I fighting this attraction between us so hard? My brain is too fuddled to make sense of it, and his mouth looks so full and tempting, his lips pillowy and soft.

“Stop me,” I mutter.

He shakes his head, his hands grasping my jacket and pulling me nearer. My heart begins pounding in a rhythm I can feel in my cock. I close my eyes in anticipation, but then they fly open as Artie abruptly shoves me away.

“What’s that noise?” he hisses, holding tightly to my hand.

I hold still, listening more carefully. I startle, whipping my head towards the stairs as I hear an eerie creaking and rustling.

“Oh my god, it’s aghost,” Artie says, shrinking behind me.

I puff out my chest. “I will protect you,” I announce rather grandly. I reach out to brace against the wall, and stagger. “Where’s the fucking wall gone? Who moved it?” I say fretfully.

“You did.” Artie snorts and starts to laugh. “You said no one needed a w-wall there.”

“Well, I was wrong. Take a note, Mr Walker.”

“I will, Mr Walker.”

That makes me happy, and it seems to make him feel the same, so we grin at each other.

Then the eerie noise sounds again, and we both freeze.

“What the hell is that?” My racing heartbeat seems to be making my drink haze disappear.

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