Page 63 of Make You Mine

I turned, leaning into his touch with a flush creeping up my cheeks again. I wondered if his words were part of the performance, yet I was still unable to suppress the giddy feelings they brought.

“Thank you,” I replied, managing a genuine smile. “You clean up pretty well yourself.” Rule number three:Flirty Banter.

I decided that sticking to the rules would get me through this. I was determined to be here for him, and I could figure everything else out later.

As the meal progressed, I found myself relaxing into the role. The wine flowed freely, and the conversation at our table became more animated. Ren’s laughter was infectious, and I started to enjoy myself despite the undercurrent of tension still radiating through my body. I felt out of place and insecure, but realized it had nothing to do with Ren. It was all me.

The speeches began, and I listened with half an ear. Ren was so confident and charming, and it made me question everything. Was this the real him or just part of the roles we were playing?

“Dance with me?” He asked.

I nodded, needing to get away from the table.

Ren led me to the dance floor, and the string quartet began to play a delicate, romantic melody. He pulled me close, one hand resting on the small of my back, the other holding my hand. I could feel his warmth through the fabric of my dress, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

We swayed gently to the music, our movements in sync as if we had done this a hundred times before. I could feel the strength in his arms and the steady rhythm of his breathing. Being this close to him, I was acutely aware of every sensation—the pressure of his hand on my back, the brush of his cheek against mine, the scent of his cologne mingling with the evening air.

My heart raced, a mix of nerves and attraction making it hard to focus. Was this another part of our performance, or was there something real in the way he held me? I glanced up at him, searching for answers in his eyes, but they were tender and unreadable.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered in my ear, his voice sending a thrill through me.

“Thanks,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smiled, and I felt my own tension ease a bit. Despite the nervous fluttering in my stomach, I found myself leaning into him, letting the music and the moment carry us. For now, I decided to let go of my doubts and just be present with him.

We continued to dance, lost in our own little world amidst the sea of other couples. I knew the night would eventually end, and with it, this fragile illusion of certainty. But for now, I was content to hold him close, swaying to the gentle strains of the string quartet, trying to let myself believe in the possibility of what we could be.

But I couldn’t help but feel like Cinderella at the ball. Out of place, like it was all going to end at midnight, and I’d end up back at home in my ratty old robe with green cheeks and a broken heart.

As the evening wore on, the air filled with laughter and applause. The room buzzed with conversation, and Ren’s deep and genuine laugh resonated through me. I realized he wasn’t grumpy. He had said he hated these dinners, but it didn’t seem that way at all tonight.

Dinner concluded, and as we mingled with the other guests, I was in awe of his ability to navigate the room with such charm. He was in his element, and I realized that I was not.

“You did amazing.” His words broke through my reverie. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” I needed to think. Or maybe I shouldn’t think. We were in two realities—the reality where we were faking our way through social obligations, and the other where we were falling for each other. It wasn’t his fault that I was confusing the two of them tonight.

He approached the front desk to retrieve our coats and the car from the valet, and finally, we stepped out into the cool night air. His hand found mine, and we walked in silence toward his waiting car. My mind spun with emotions, all tangled up in the night’s events.

As we were settled in and ready to go, he turned to me, his eyes searching my face. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, and the genuine concern in his voice nearly undid me. “You’re quiet.”

I nodded, trying to smile. “Yeah, just a lot to take in.”

He squeezed my hand gently. “You were incredible tonight. Thank you for being there with me.”

I felt a rush of affection for him, but also a pang of uncertainty. “Can I ask you something?” Seeing a new side of someone I was dating was usually the beginning of the end, and I didn’t want that to happen with Ren. My past—my insecurities and old hurts wouldn’t stop creeping into my present tonight, and I wanted it to stop.

“Of course.” His gaze was steady, calming, and I felt silly for feeling this way.

“Do you really hate these dinners?”

He looked surprised by the question and then thoughtful. “Tonight was different. With you there, it felt… easier, like I could be myself. Like you were my beautiful buffer, like I was safe with you there. I appreciate you coming with me more than I can say. Sometimes being alone is too much.”

His words touched me deeply, and I realized that maybe both of us were in uncharted territory. When it was just the two of us it was easier; we only had our own expectations to meet. Being around others is where I started to question things.

As we drove home, the hum of the engine and soft music from the radio kept the silence between us comfortable.

I kept sneaking glances at him, wondering if he was as lost in thought as I was.

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