Page 11 of Every Move You Make

What am I doing?

“You’re… beautiful,” he says, like he was just struck by the same Cupid’s arrow as me and he can’t believe he’s doing this either. When he takes a few steps closer, I do the same, like my body has its own agenda.

“Thank you,” I reply, positive my cheeks are on fire.

He puts his hands in the pockets of his shorts and smirks. “Where are you going looking that pretty?” he asks, his voice husky and confident.

I huff a little laugh. “I was just at the pride parade.”

He gives me a thorough body scan and takes his time. And I’m letting him. Why am I letting him?

“You wanna come with me to a friend’s barbeque?”

A giggle bubbles out of me before I can’t stop it. Who does this? Who meets a stranger and invites them to a barbeque? I’ve been catcalled before, but this is wholly different. I don’t have an ounce of fear. He’s staring at me, but I like it. I allow it. My mind has already shifted to attending with him—this perfect stranger—and flirting back and forth as I learn everything about him.

Something clicks, and it’s like a wet blanket is thrown on me.

“I’m sorry. I have to meet… my boyfriend.” Those last two words coming out slow and unsure.

My stranger lifts his chin in understanding. Everyfraction of a second that passes tingles with electricity between us.

“Boyfriend,” he repeats, like he needs to hear himself say it. “Of course. Does he know how lucky he is?”

All of a sudden, my hands ache and my throat seizes. I can’t think—my brain doesn’t want to think about anything outside of this moment. I’m transfixed by this beautiful, golden-haired man with the cheap rainbow necklace and a melancholy smile.

Does Derek know how lucky he is?

The truth hits me like I caught a hospital pass, but I can’t show it. I have to believe in us. Sure, Derek has never fawned over me like this stranger just did, but it’s okay. He has a quieter love. We’re not a flashy couple, and I could never ask him to be.

But unloading my messy answer to the man in front of me is not a cute look. So I shrug. “I hope so.”

“I hope so, too.” His mesmerizing chestnut eyes lock on mine. He inhales a long breath and takes a couple steps backward. “Okay. I’m gonna walk away now before I say anything stupid.”

“Okay,” I say, toying with one of my gold earrings and trying to walk backward. I bump into the pole of a streetlight, and an unwarranted giggle bursts out.

My stranger bites his lip, stops, then walks toward me again. “Fuck, you’re cute. No!” he says, lifting his hands up and chastising himself. “Leave me alone, you siren.” He regains his backward steps and winks. “But think about me next time you kiss your boyfriend, okay?”

I roll my lips together and turn to walk away, but throw my chin over my shoulder to call back. “I promise no such thing.”

His only reply is to blow me a kiss. It’s harmless, but there’s something so powerful in it that I can’t explain.

Once I’ve safely rounded the corner of the building andI’m out of his range, I close my hand around his kiss and slip it into my pocket.

Thirty minutes later, I walk into Derek’s apartment and find him sitting in his room at his computer with his headphones on. He must be in the middle of a game because his concentration is fixed to his screen. I squeeze his shoulders, run my hands down his chest, and give him a weird back-hug.

Without looking away from his desktop, he gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and says, “Hey, I’ll be done in a little bit.”

“Could you be done now?” I whisper. I’m trying to ignore the lingering electric pulses that have been surging through me since the encounter with my stranger. But if I’m honest, it’s one hundred percent the reason I’m worked up right now. I need to release this built-up tension.

“I… Can you just,” Derek stammers, warring between his game, the people in his ear, and me. “Shit,” he barks into his microphone. “Great job, team. Thanks for all the support, fuckers. Yeah, I gotta respawn.”

“Does that mean it’s over?” I ask, but I know the answer.

“No,” he sighs. “I gotta start over. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be there soon.”

Without another word, I step away and head to the bathroom. While I wash my hands, I take a long look in the mirror. My long tawny hair is twisted up in a sleek bun and shows off my strong shoulders. The bow-tie straps of my dress and the delicate jewelry I wear mock me. My soft red lipstick is pointless.

I quickly remove all the bobby pins and hair tie and fluff out my hair, guiding it over my small chest. Then I fling it behind me. Then back in front. Over one shoulder, then the other, adjusting my posture.

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