Page 167 of Satan's Spawn
Some agreement must’ve been made because Cillian claps his hands. “Oh, this is a fantastic song.”
I blink a few times before the beat registers, and when it does I hear the opening piano to Conor Maynard’s slowed version of “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”.
Cillian’s not wrong, I love the original song, but this haunted version is beautiful.
“Ask the girl to dance, son, we both know she deserves it after all she did for you.”
Crayton looks like his ears are about to sprout steam as he stares, full of contempt, at his Dad.
This guy must be smoking something serious to think his son wouldeverdance with me in a room full of people.
I’m not even sure Alexis would get that treatment.
Then I feel Crayton’s fingers link around mine, and this time when he touches me…it’s much more gentle.
“What are you doing?” I squeak as we walk together toward the dance floor, reaching it way too quick for me to attempt an escape.
“Getting my car back.” Crayton yells as he pulls me into him, already swaying slowly back and forth as I rest a cautious palm against his shoulder.
My heart drums wildly in my chest as I inhale his bergamot scent, and my feet move with him on their own accord as I scour the room for Alexis, who’s nowhere to be found.
Crayton continues holding my hand, the one he brought me over to the dance floor with, pressing it against his chest, guiding his free one to the arch of my back.
In line with his crude features, Crayton doesn’t dance like a typical teenager, either. As opposed to the kids around us with hands locked on hips and shoulders, he’s holding me like a true man does a woman.
Like my Dad held my Mom.
I look up at him, tilting my head as I take in his hardened jaw, always so chafed.
I can feel eyes on us like lasers, and for a second I contemplate running off the floor, but Crayton’s thumb caressing my back has me inhaling a sharp breath, and chills shooting up my spine.
He’s electrifying as always, and doesn’t even know it.
“You came here with her…” I think very out loud.
He doesn’t make eye contact, just continues swaying and spinning us to the song.
“Are you really doing all this to hurt me?” I ask, trying to goad him further.
“Yes.” Is his response, short and sour as always.
“Why?”
Silence again, and I feel tears threatening my eyes, but I push harder. Needing the Crayton from the waterway, not the Crayton from Riverside.
“What you said to me in the staircase…” I swallow, trying not to appear affected by the skinny girl insult he spit at me the other day. “About my…”
“You’re beautiful, Rebecca.” He interrupts, finally connecting his gaze with mine.
“Wha…” My eyebrows cinch together, so thrown by his curveball I nearly topple over. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is…” His nose brushes the shell of my ear, teasing yet purposeful. “In a room full of planets...you’re the fucking sky.”
He pulls me tighter to his chest, dipping me slightly until we’re face to face. Until there’s nobody left in our world but him and me. I can stay this way forever, and it still wouldn’t be enough time with this version of Crayton.
Myversion of Crayton.
I swallow the dryness away in my throat when his lips hover over mine.
