Page 38 of Make My Heart Malt

STAY WITH ME

Garrett

All evening, I’ve kept a close eye on Dessa, waiting for the timing to be perfect. Moments can be fleeting, and she deserves more than one. She deserves all of them. On either side of me, a couple of guys chat among themselves, occasionally bringing me into the conversation, but I’m more interested in the raven-haired beauty on the other side of the room.

The one song I’ve been waiting for starts playing through the speakers. “If you’ll excuse me,” I say to no one in particular.

Turning around, I place my drink on the closest table and my gaze instantly shifts to Dessa, who is seated at a table with another woman across the room. “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by Simple Minds continues to play. I weave my way in and out of people on the dance floor.When I’m standing next to her, I hold out my hand. Her eyes wander from my fingers, up my arm, linger on my chest for a brief second, until finally meeting my gaze with a warm smile.

“Dance with me.”

Her smile grows wider as she lifts a brow. “Are you asking or telling?” There’s a playfulness to her tone.

“Does it matter?”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Without saying another word, she rests her hand in mine. A crackle of electricity jolts between us as soon as we touch. I clasp my hand around hers as she rises to her feet.

Wordlessly, we stroll hand-in-hand to the corner of the dance floor. While everyone else is swaying their hips to the upbeat music, I link my fingers around hers and move her other hand to drape around my shoulders and over the curve of my neck. We sway back and forth to the music, neither of us saying anything and instead letting our bodies do the talking.

After a few silent moments, I twist my head and raise our hands, placing a kiss on her wrist. “I told you this dress would look fucking stunning on you.”

She smiles up at me. Even in the dim light, I can see the pink cover her cheeks. She’s always been self-conscious about compliments, but at every opportunity I'll tell her she’s beautiful until she believes it.

She presses her lips together, something she does when she’s nervous. “So, I’m guessing by your note, this is the dance you wanted me to save for you.”

“It is.”

A soft laugh escapes her. “This isn’t really a slow dance song.” Her fingers caress the short hairs on the back of my head. Then her eyes go wide. “Oh! I get it! Junior prom. The note makes sense now. Don’t you forget about me.You dragged me out on the dance floor to slow dance to a not-so-much slow dance song.”

My lips curl into a smile. “I thought it was pretty perfect.”

“Yeah.” She laughs again. It’s as soft and sweet as caramel. “Except my date didn’t really think so.”

My hand slides down her back, resting right above the curve of her ass. “I wasn’t going to go an entire night without dancing with my best friend.”

I rest my forehead against hers. My voice is low, so only she can hear. “I’m sorry I was a complete asshole. If I could, I would take it back. Maybe one day you can forgive me.”

She blows out a slow breath. “What you did hurt. A lot. I’d like to believe we’ve grown up since then. We’re older and wiser.” She pauses. Her gaze drops to the center of my chest.

Seconds go by without her saying anything else. Fuck. I ruined it. My chance with her is gone and I have no one to blame but myself. Tilting my head, I stare at the ceiling. My jaw clenches, willing anyone or anything to give me the words to make everything better.

Dessa presses herself closer to me. “I forgive you,” she whispers.

I exhale a slow breath. I don’t deserve her forgiveness, but I’ll do everything in my power to show her how much she means to me.

“It’ll take some time for the wounds to heal, especially since you came back to town reopening them again.”

“I get that. In the meantime, I’m here now.” I press my lips to her forehead.

She tilts her head, peering up at me. “Why did it take you so long to talk to me tonight?”

“I wanted the anticipation to be worth the wait.” Withmy hand on her lower back, I press her into me. “Since you’ve been thinking about me, I do believe my plan worked.” I lean down, my breath a whisper against the shell of her ear. “Don’t worry, I thought about you every second.”

As the song ends, half the people on the dance floor leave while the other half wait for the next song. I’m rooted in place with Dessa in my arms. Neither of us moving or talking. After a few beats of silence, the next song plays through the speakers, breaking the trance between us.

“I need a drink,” Dessa murmurs. She pulls away from me and struts toward the bar. Halfway there, she spots a server holding a tray of champagne flutes and abandons the bar. She grabs one, pauses, and grabs a second one with her other hand. She guzzles one down, followed by the other.

I step next to her. My fingers graze her shoulder before I slowly slide them to her waist. The hitch in her breath doesn’t go unnoticed. I lean down and whisper, “I hope you’re planning on staying with all the champagne you’re drinking.”

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