Page 26 of The Best Kind of Forever
He points the tines of his fork at me, a lopsided smirk pushing his cheeks back. “I like how honest you are. You’re a tell-it-to-their-face kind of honest, and in my line of work, that can be rare. But there’s also this part of you that worries you’re being too straightforward, and it’s endearing.”
I choke on a noodle, my pulse and heart in a head-to-head race.
“Oh,” is all I can muster, partly because I don’t know what else to say, partly because I’m still wheezing for air.
Hayes lifts his napkin from his lap, dabbing at his lips. He’s somehow cleaned every one of his plates in record time while I’ve barely made a dent in my pasta.
“Come on. I want to show you something.”
* * *
The dark skylineoverhead crumbles under congregations of storm clouds, and the beginnings of rain start to fall around me, settling like crystals atop my wind-blown hair. The night is silent, nothing but the hum of fireflies with gossamer wings to fill the void, painting cysts of starlight in little spurts of luminescence.
My breath plumes out in front of me, and even though Hayes gave me his suit jacket, I haven’t stopped shivering. We pass a few quaint shops lining the sidewalk, and he leads me to a clearing nestled in the heart of downtown. A menagerie of maroon and goldenrod leaves shoot into the atmosphere like fiery snowflakes, swirling in an array of hues from gnarled tree branches. Twinkling lights bathe the area in an unearthly glow, one that I allow to warm the cracks in my toes and the clefts of my ears and the crooks of my elbows.
An old-fashioned fountain decorates the center of the quad, with a mossy stone basin that wraps around the engraved base. Bubbling water spills from the top tier, glistening from the moon rays bouncing off the nearby roof shingles. My heels scuff over arbitrary spurts of grass growing through the cracks in the cement. There’s a man taking refuge under an awning, playing his guitar and singing the acapella notes of a love song.
“Wow,” I breathe, taking in the breathtaking scenery. Riverside is nowhere near postcard worthy. It’s more urban than countryside, and there aren’t a lot of hidden places that I’ve found to be a sanctuary from the bustle of the city. But this—this is amazing.
The only other people in the vicinity are an old couple sitting on a wooden bench, and they look so unconditionally in love with each other that jealousy torpedoes toward my heart.
I know I shouldn’t be jealous of the elderly, okay? They’re sweet, and they always have Werther’s Original candies on them. But at one point in my life, I had imagined me and Wilder growing old together, sitting on our matching wicker chairs and bickering over which child of ours would get married first. Ha. I was delusional back then.
The promise of tears touches the backs of my eyes, and I have to silently pray that they go away before Hayes notices the glossiness.
“Dance with me.” It’s not a request.
My voice is clotted with surprise. “What?”
Hayes extends his arm out to me, giving me a not-so-graceful bow. It looks wonky considering his towering height, but it manages to make me chuckle all the same.
Panic fleets across my reddening face. “I…don’t know how to dance.”
It’s true. It’s not an excuse. The first time I danced with someone was my freshman winter formal, and my date had a bruised toenail that ended up falling off because I’d stepped on his feet so many times.
Hayes makes apshsound. “Everyone can dance.”
I have a feeling he’s not going to let me get out of this, so I relent with a pump of my shoulders. “Your funeral.”
The instrumental bridge of the song permeates my ears, accompanied by the harmonious pluck of guitar strings, seeming to send me to my own slice of heaven. The whole world fades away into a chasm of darkness, nothing but the docile glow of the lights to cast Hayes’ head in a golden halo.
My feet are off the ground in a second. I feel like I’m flying through the air, all my worries freefalling past me with each somehow elegant twist of my body. It’s as if time’s frozen around us—the past, present, and future ceasing to exist. With an outstretched arm, Hayes twirls me around him, and I follow suit, flares bursting in my veins. I welcome the lightheaded dizziness, letting it lift me higher into the clouds. My hair has fallen from its diamond-shaped pins, tumbling down my back in waves.
Hayes draws me closer to him, leading me through the sweet-sounding notes of the love song. He’s a surprisingly good dancer. I match my stride to his, the fluid motions becoming second nature. We move together in a choregraphed dance, each of us knowing exactly where to plant our feet, our bodies melding together. His arms are an extension of himself, just like on the ice, and he holds himself with confident sophistication as he sways me to the rhythm. His hand lays delicately on my waist, the other furled in my fingers.
Without warning, he spins me around and tilts me, his hand supporting the small of my back. My breath breaks, and I stare at him incredulously, having some kind of existential crisis and out-of-body experience at the same time. I’m dancing with the handsomest, sweetest guy I’ve ever met. This kind of shit only happens in fairytales.
Hayes slowly brings me back up, his eyes roving hungrily over my lips. I waste no time in pressing my mouth to his, our tongues tangling together as I swallow the moan that tumbles from his throat. His hands slide over my hip dips, brushing the bottom of my ass, and a black hole of desire opens inside of me, making my core constrict.
I really wish we weren’t in public right now.
Hey, sex-crazed Aeris. Level-headed Aeris here. DO NOT FALL FOR HIM. I know you get attached easily, and that probably has something to do with your daddy issues, but this will only end badly for you, okay? Remember Wilder. Remember the hell he put you through. Remember how he weaponized your vulnerability. Remember that empty feeling that plagued you when he walked away. Don’t make the same mistake.
I pull away abruptly, for once acknowledging that flashing red panic button on my mental dashboard.
Hayes is an NHL player. I’m a girl from Oregon who sits behind a screen all day for work. We’re from two different worlds. Not only that, but his career is demanding. He’s always on the move, always uprooting, and who’s to say he won’t abandon me when he’s had his fun?
He has a reputation for a reason—a reputation that’s screaming at me to run, to forget all about him before I’m tossed aside like another one of his conquests. He doesn’t do serious, and I shouldn’t either. If I get attached to him, I won’t be able to protect myself from all the pain that comes with caring about someone. All my heart has ever done is land me in hot water. And I don’t need any more burns to add to my collection.
