Page 45 of Forget Me

“Perfect,” I said. “I know a club in the Mission.”

“Great. And here’s Andrew!” Natalie jumped up and flung her arms around a blond guy about my height but slender. The pants of his expensive wool suit were creased at the hips like he’d been sitting at a desk all day. His pale skin looked like he hadn’t seen daylight in a month. Finance, I guessed.

“Mateo, Mimi, meet Andrew.”

I stood to shake her brother’s hand. His grip was firm and dry, and he held my gaze with his full attention. His lips were full and sensual like his brother’s, but his long-lashed blue eyes were the shape of Natalie’s. A pretty boy, totally my type. But no one was my type with Mimi around.

“Mateo,” he said. “Nat’s talked about you.”

“She has?” I grinned. “Good things, I hope?”

“She says you’ve been a champ about this gala project. And that you and Mimi are hashtag-couple-goals.” He made air quotes, then extended his hand to Mimi.

I watched them together. Andrew was probably Mimi’s ideal man. Smart, rich, worked in her field. But their handshake was brief, and he turned to his sister.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“So ready. But you’re not taking me home. We’re going dancing!”

“Dancing?” His sandy-blond eyebrows flew up.

“It’ll be fun. It’ll get your mind off—”

He tugged her into a half-hug and rubbed his knuckles in her hair. “None of that, Nutter Butter.”

“O.M.G., Andrew. I’m twenty-five, not twelve.” She pulled away from him and ran her fingers through her tousled hair. Her cheeks were pink and her eyebrows scrunched in a pretense of annoyance, but her smile was bright as sunshine.

I never had a sibling, but my cousin Sara and I teased each other like that. A wave of homesickness crashed through me. Dancing was exactly what I needed.

I rubbed my hands together. “Let’s go. I’ll drive Mimi, and you take Natalie, Andrew?”

I gave Natalie the name of the club, and her thumbs flew over her phone. “Meet you there!”

Outside on the sidewalk, Mimi trudged by my side. “You really don’t have to do this. I can tell Natalie I’m not feeling up to it.”

“Do you not feel well?” I glanced at her as we crossed the street to my Jeep. Like Andrew, she looked like she could’ve used a day outside.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just…”

“What is it?” I opened her door and offered my hand to assist her into the high seat.

She gripped it and hoisted herself up onto the running board. How did she not tingle with the energy that coursed between us? But she only settled into the seat and captured my gaze. “I never meant for this to get so out of control. All I wanted was a chance to prove myself to Larissa. Not to drag you into a fake relationship with a side of party planning. And dancing. I’m sure you’re tired from work.”

“So are you.” I wanted to trace her delicate jaw, to feel her cheek curve up into a smile. But we were alone, and there was no one to pretend for. “I want to do this. Dancing will be fun. You’ll see. Besides, we need to practice for the gala.”

Her eyes pinched like she was in pain. “Do we have to dance in front of all those people?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll look good. I promise.” I closed her door. I’d always been good at physical stuff: baseball, surfing, dancing. I’d never regretted my weakness in other things, like school. Not until Mimi.

She was quiet on the ride to the club, so I played some music to get the rhythm flowing through us. When I looked over, she tapped her fingers to the beat on the armrest. Good. I swayed my shoulders.

The club was one Carlo played sometimes, but there was no live band tonight, only a DJ. Hot pink and yellow lights flashed across the stage where she shimmied to the music behind her mixer. A couple whirled beside her, skilled beyond my level. Below the stage, lines of people practiced their steps in an open space in the middle of the dance floor. More adventurous couples spun around the edges.

We found Andrew and Natalie at the bar. Natalie handed us two shots of something dark red and disturbingly familiar.

“What is this?” Mimi eyed it with a wise level of suspicion.

“The Thursday-night special. The bartender called it Mama Juana.”

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