Page 27 of Dance with Me on New Year's Eve

Why on earth was I telling him anything anyway? There was no purpose. I didn’t need to talk to people just for the sake of talking—I wasn’t my mother.

It was perfectly fine to be shy, to minimize talking to others, to just … beme.

You know you’ll never believe that.

Why couldn’t I be someone else? A normal person who doesn’t deal with the pain of social anxiety every day of their life? Someone who doesn’t ruminate on every interaction? Why?

I took a deep breath, trying to banish the thoughts threatening to spiral into an anxiety attack.

Yet I felt a twinge of shame. More than a twinge. I clenched my fists. Wasn’t I old enough to stop worrying what my parents thought? But this was a familiar feeling after talking to my mom, or sometimes even my dad.

“I’ll just leave you alone,” said a voice that sounded far away.

I spoke without thinking, my voice quiet as I looked at a distant oak tree across the lush lawn. “My parents—well, mainly my mom—asked if I’d booked my flight for Thanksgiving yet, but I probably won’t be traveling because there’s so much to do to meet Hazel’s goal of opening the new center by the New Year. And, well … my mom didn’t like that.”

I left out the part about howbothmy parents asked whether I was dating anyone or making friends here yet … and the subsequent lecture about being more outgoing and not wanting to end up alone. Despite how many times we’d had those kind of talks, they crushed me every single time. I didn’t even know why I was explaining anything at all to him, but Idefinitelywasn’t going to go even further than I had.

He remained silent for a long moment and then shifted on his feet. “Believe it or not, I can sympathize.”

I aimed my eyes directly at his, but I couldn’t read him. “You can?”

“Not the Thanksgiving thing, but the unnecessary drama, guilt … the works.”

I nodded slowly, searching his face but finding only a tiny muscle in his cheek flexing. “Thanks, Jeff.”

I wouldn’t beg him to say more. If he wanted to, he would.And why would he? We weren’t friends.

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I do need to get back soon. I’m planning to email you the new design brief from Sanders along with my notes this afternoon. Can you review it this evening?”

I rubbed my neck, which was getting sore, and finally realized I was still sitting in the grass, alternating between looking up at him and gazing at our surroundings. I stood slowly and looked up at him, but I noticed his eyes were elsewhere.

Looking at my legs?

He couldn’t be checking me out.

He wouldn’t …

Oh.

I was a mess. Literally.

“Oops.” Most likely flushing from head to toe, I bent down to wipe off the small pieces of dirt and grass stuck to my legs. “I forgot to bring a chair or blanket.”

Great, now I look like a total space cadet. I should’ve just said I enjoyed connecting physically with the earth.

As if that sounded better.

You are hopeless, Roxy.

I frowned as our eyes met. “Uh, I …” Crap, what was the question again? Oh! The brief. “I can review it today, sure.”

He nodded once and opened his mouth to reply.

“Wait, no. I can’t!” I chewed my bottom lip. “I’m busy tonight.”

Jeff’s eyebrows were furrowed. “This is important, Roxanne. We told Jill that—”

Glaring at him, I pasted on a tight smile. “I know that. But you can’t expect me to drop my plans.”

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