Page 52 of The Puckable Playbook

“This is fun,” I sigh.

He moves his lips to my ear. “How much did you drink, sweetie?”

I shrug, not wanting to tell him. I know exactly how many I’ve had. I needed a couple as soon as we arrived to muster up the courage to not keep pulling on Trish’s dress. The same dress that caught Zaiah’s attention in the first place. Then, I drank a couple more because Clark kept saying he’d never seenme wear anything like this, and even though it sounded like a compliment, he never actually complimented me.

“Do you—” I stop myself. Pretty sure fishing for compliments is not a good look.

“What?” he asks, pulling away, his hips still moving against mine, making mine sway.

I bite my tongue, and he touches the corner of my mouth. An electric shock moves through me. I blink up at him, lips buzzing. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Tell me what’s up.”

I move closer, hugging him as I whisper-yell, “Does this dress look okay?”

He reaches up, holding the back of my head to say into my ear, “I think I heard wrong.I thoughtI heard you ask if you looked okay in that dress, but that can’t be doubt in your voice. Not when you are owning that dress like you are.”

“Really?”

“Really. It hugs every part of you in the best ways, Lenore.”

The husky tone in his voice sends a shiver through me, but that could also be the alcohol making me hear what I want to.

DoI want him to want me? No, I’m here with Clark. Right? Right.

“Clark didn’t compliment me.”

Zaiah steps back, and suddenly, my whole front is like a frigid iceberg. My body moves toward him, trying to recapture everything, but he holds me back with two arms. “Then he’s a clown, and you don’t need his approval.”

I give him a small smile, but he looks away.

My stomach drops. “Are you done dancing?”

Just as I pose the question the song stops, and my shoulders deflate. The moment is gone, stolen away like the few bass notes that end the song.

Without answering, Zaiah leads me through a throng of people that have moved in around us. When I fall against a few of them, he puts me in front of him and holds my hips.

“I’m fine.”

“Said every drunk person ever.”

“I’m feeling good,” I tell him. “I’m okay.”

Peering up, I spot our table and move that way. The closer we get, even darker clouds descend across Clark’s face. He’s been miserable since he picked me up. First, it was that Zaiah was coming. Second, it was that he hated the place I picked out. Who knows what it is this time.

“You got some moves, Len,” Adam says.

“Nah, it was all Zaiah.” I put an exclamation point on that comment when I trip over my own two feet. “Oops.” I giggle, embarrassment ringing through me. “Not used to heels.”

“She’s fun,” Adam says as I sit back in the booth, making Clark scoot in.

Clark puts his arm around me, and I sink into it. It’s the first time he’s done that. We’ve kissed a little, still trying to perfect it like Zaiah said, but it’s not improving much. Or at all.

Zaiah takes one look at us and stands. “I’m going to get another drink.”

I pop up. “I’ll go with you.”

Both he and Clark help me sit back down. “Not this time,” Zaiah says, then spins and walks away.

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