Page 47 of Forget Me

Her gaze hovered below my chin. I supposed that was where it ought to be since I signaled our turns with my shoulders and spins with a shift of my palm against hers. But I wanted her gaze on my face, in my eyes, so I could tell what she was thinking, how she liked dancing with me.

She said something, but the music was too loud. I leaned closer. “What did you say?”

Her cheeks reddened. “I said you’re a really good dancer.”

“Ah, thank you. But I’m not as good as them.” I tipped my chin toward the couple on stage. He spun his partner under his arm, then he twirled under their joined hands. They moved together like they shared a mind, like two parts of the same body.

“Maybe not,” she said in my ear, “but you make me feel safe. Confident.”

I warmed inside. “That’s how it should be. I’m the vine, supporting you. You’re the flower, beautiful and fragrant.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Beautiful? Hardly.”

“You’re an orchid. Exotic and delicate.” I inhaled the vanilla scent of her hair.

“You’re the beautiful one,” she said. “Everyone’s watching you.”

I didn’t bother to look. “No, Mimi, they’re watching you. You’re hypnotic.”

Her gaze locked with mine, golden sparkles lighting up the dark depths like moonlight over the ocean.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Her gaze slipped from mine. “Nice to…to everyone.”

I tugged her out of the way of an oncoming, spinning couple. “Which is it, Mimi? Am I nice to everyone, or to you?”

“Both. But especially me?”

I chuckled, then put my lips by her ear so she’d be sure to hear. “I’m glad you finally noticed.”

“But I don’t understand. What’s in it for you? What’s your angle?”

“Angle?” I reared back. “I only want…” Was she ready to hear the answer? That I wantedherand nothing else?

Her steps faltered. Lost in her eyes, I stepped on something soft. When I looked down, I saw I’d squashed the toe of her ballet flat. I hopped away, but Mimi’s eyes squeezed shut in pain.

I stopped moving and ran my hands up her shoulders. “Sorry! Sorry I’m so clumsy. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” But she kept her weight off the foot I’d smashed like an oaf.

“Let’s take a break,” I said. “Can you walk?”

She squared her chin. “Of course I can.”

Still, I kept my arm around her as I guided her off the dance floor. I helped her perch on a stool next to a high-top table.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Just water, please.”

When I returned to the table with two ice-cold bottles of water, she had her phone out. “My ride’s almost here.”

“Your ride? I’m your ride.”

“No, I called a rideshare. I’ve taken up too much of your evening. I have to work tomorrow.”

“No, Mimi. I’ll take you home.”

“No. Stay if you like. I’m sure you can find a better dance partner than me. Thanks for bringing us. It was…” She stood without finishing the sentence.

“Mimi, I’m so sorry. Can I get you an ice pack? Some aspirin?”

“No, thank you.” She rested her hand on mine for a moment, light and cool as the San Francisco drizzle. Then she was gone, leaving me in the dark club, sweat chilling my skin.

We’d had a connection on the dance floor. I knew we had. She’d looked into my eyes like she saw me, like she valued me.

And then I’d fucked it up. I’d chickened out when I should have told her how I felt. What I wanted.

Her. Only her.

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