Page 40 of The Dating Game

“Is that so?” Brook tilts her chin up, meeting my gaze. “Maybe he should ask me himself then.”

I’m off-balance—both physically and mentally. Brooke continues to look expectantly at me, but I’m too wrapped up in Corbin’s accusations to formulate the request she wants. Until she sighs and makes to move past me. That sigh…it undoes something inside me, the part of me that I’ve been keeping reserved from her.

“Will you dance with me, Brooke?” The words hold a yearning that goes deeper than just this dance, and Brooke hesitates before answering, seeming to sense we’ve entered uncharted territory. But then finally, mercifully she nods.

“Let’s salsa,” she trills, shimmying her shoulders. A second later she’s whipping off her jean jacket, grabbing me by the hand, and leading me out onto the dance floor. The song switches over, and the upbeat Latin music thrums through my body. I tug Brooke to a stop and place my free hand on her hip, then push our joined hands out to the side.

“Do you know how to salsa?” Brooke starts to ask but I cut her off by beginning with the basic footwork that defines the salsa, moving myleft foot forward then replacing my right foot before switching sides, all the while rotating my hips in time to the music. Brooke gasps as I pull her more closely against me, her curls tumbling back over her bare shoulders. “You do know how to salsa,” she whispers in happy wonder, and then we lose ourselves in the music and each other.

I forget all about bets and operations and all of the drama; there is only her and the way she feels in my arms.

The skirt of her dress flares out in a wide circle, brushing against my jeans; a glimpse of her knee somehow laced with the thrill of more forbidden skin. My hand splays across her right hip as it moves, feeling the beat travel through the spot where our two bodies meet. My eyes rove across her face, drinking in the joy expressed in her upturned mouth, her flushed cheeks, her shining amber eyes. She’s beautiful all of the time, but dancing makes her breathtaking.

The music picks up speed and nearby someone crows loudly along with the singer. “Ay, ay, ay!”

Brooke instinctively mirrors her steps and movements to the faster beat, completely in tune with the rhythm. If I weren’t enjoying dancing with her so much I’d want to step back and watch her. She’s so graceful and there’s so much passion in each movement. It’s mesmerizing.She’smesmerizing.

Brooke’s expression turns mischievous. “Spin me?” she asks, the request making my heart pound even faster than the music. I nod, my mouth too dry to speak, and then I press my palm more firmly into her waist and spin her away. Her skirt twirls around her in a flash of red and then she’s back in my arms, never losing pace with the music.

The song finishes and a slower one starts. For a second I hesitate wondering if Brooke will shy away from the increased intimacy the slower cadence encourages, but as both of our bodies adjust to the languid music I look down to see her staring up at me,searching my face. I hold her gaze letting her search for whatever she’s hoping to find, and I, in turn, trace each of her features with my own gaze wondering if there’s any chance at all that she could ever reciprocate the feelings I’m developing for her.

Not if I continue with my plan to scare her off. That much is certain. Which leaves me with a decision: can I set my armor down and open myself up to her?

Corbin’s accusation that I’m acting this way because of what Kimberley, my ex-fiancée, did to me, plays in my mind. Is he right? I haven’t dated much since she broke things off with me almost two years ago, but I always thought that was because I couldn’t find a woman I liked enough to ask out.

But maybe it had more to do with not even being willing to look for one.

Maybe the reason I was so quick to latch onto Operation Dating Game was because it was a distraction against the hurt I felt when I overheard Brooke and Sydney talking. But when others hurt you, that’s not an excuse to try and hurt them back.

For the first time since I stood slumped against the wall, denying that there was any sting to Brooke’s rejection and planning my counterattack to her bet, I think about whether or not my actions have been pleasing to God.

Shame courses through me as a resoundingnoslaps me across my soul. I’ve been acting solely to gratify the desires of my flesh, serving my own hunger for justice rather than extending mercy as God so often does for me. The red lettered words of Jesus insert themselves into my repentant thoughts:If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.

In other words, as children of God we’re called to give up personal vengeance.

Good grief. I’ve been so misguided.

“Will, are you okay?” My anguish must show on my face because Brooke has stopped dancing and is peering at me in concern.

“Um, I should check on Corbin,” I stammer, releasing her and hurrying toward our table only to find it’s empty. No sign of Corbin.

“Where did Corbin go?” Brooke asks from behind me, having followed me off the dance floor.

The waitress who brought us our drinks pops up in front of us. “Hey, guys, your friend wanted me to let you know he had to take off. Said he didn’t want to interrupt your dancing.” She gives us a chummy wink, then disappears.

“Oh, now I feel bad,” Brooke says, her lips pulling down on the sides in a quick frown.

“You really shouldn’t,” I say softly. “I’m the one who brought a friend on our date.”

Brooke’s eyes flash to mine showcasing her surprise. “That is true,” she says carefully.

As I look down at Brooke, a part further in that same passage that struck me earlier comes to mind:If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.

Maybe that’s what my counterattack should be: acceptance. Brooke needs to date me for two months to win her bet, well, I’ve already gone one week with her, time to go two months. Perhaps she’ll realize along the way that her actions are hurtful. And if not, well, at least I’ve taken the higher ground.

At least, I’ll have been able to actually enjoy dating this amazing woman for that brief stint of time.

“I’m sorry,” I say with a rueful chuckle. “It was stupidto bring him.”

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