Page 102 of Just My Type
“Okay, so you can, like, really dance,” Hannah says, voice a little incredulous as I spin us in a slow circle in the middle of the dance floor.
The band is playing “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran, and Hannah is wrapped in my arms. My lips brush the shell of her ear as I whisper the lyrics that sound like they were written just for us. A shiver works its way down her spine, her head falling to my shoulder and her arms tightening around me.
And me? I’m so in love I could die.
“You bet I can. I’m romantic as fuck.”
Hannah laughs, leaning up to kiss my jaw. “And exactly how many women have you wooed with these superior dancing skills of yours?”
I chuckle, running my nose up her jaw and kissing her temple, rubbing slow circles on her lower back as we dance. “I’m a one-woman kind of guy, Han. My wife is the only woman I want to woo with my superior dancing skills.”
She leans back a little to look at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. I just fucking love to see it. “You wife, huh?”
I lean in and kiss her cheek. “My.” I kiss the other cheek. “Wife.” I cover her mouth with mine, giving her a long, slow kiss as the music soars around us. We break apart just as the song comes to an end, the band switching to something faster. But neither of us moves. We just stand there, looking at each other, eagerness and need and words and words and words we don’t say yet swirling around us.
It's like all the words are there, right on the tips of both of our tongues, but we both know that this room full of my family and hers, our friends, and Jordan and Jo’s palpable, contagious joy isn’t the place for them.
The anticipation is delicious.
“Drink?” I ask, breaking us out of our bubble.
“Yes.” Hannah glances around almost like she’s surprised that we’re in a room full of people. “I could use a Sprite.”
Taking her hand, I lead her to the bar and we get in the short line. I stand behind her, my chest pressed to her back, and wrap my arms around her waist, unwilling to let her get too far away from me. She seems to agree because she rests her arms over mine and doesn’t move them, even as we order our drinks and step to the side, glasses in hand.
Spinning in my arms, she eyes her drink contemplatively, then turns her head to look at the container of straws sitting on the bar, her nose wrinkling adorably. “I really wish I had a Twizzler.”
I laugh, smacking a kiss to her cheek and reaching into the inside pocket of my jacket, pulling out a small package of Twizzlers. “Ask and you shall receive, Gorgeous.”
She looks from the package to me. “How long have those been in there?”
I shrug. “Since I got dressed.”
“You brought Twizzlers to my sister’s and your brother’s wedding because…why exactly?”
I set my drink on the bar and open the package myself, pulling out a Twizzler and biting off the ends, plunking it intoher glass. “Because Jordan and Jo are obsessed with Fireballs for some weird reason, so I didn’t think they would have Twizzlers lying around their wedding. You like to drink Sprite with a Twizzler straw, so I brought them for you.”
Hannah shakes her head. “How are you even real?” she mutters.
I laugh, tossing an arm around her shoulders. “I really am quite something, aren’t I?”
Hannah looks up at me, her face suddenly serious. “You’re not just something, Noah. You’re everything. I have something to show you.”
I turn to face her as she sets her drink down on a table.
“Okay,” she says, a small smile curving lips I’m desperate to kiss again. “You’re either going to think this is the best thing ever, or you’re going to run absolutely screaming for the hills. There’s really nothing in between.”
I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, trailing my finger down her jaw and over her collarbone, grinning when she shivers. “If you’re showing it to me, I already love it.”
Hannah glances around and then takes my hand, pulling me to the side and turning us so she’s facing one of the soaring stone pillars that surround the space, and I’m facing the room. Without saying a word, she flips down the neckline of her strapless dress.
It takes me a second in the dim light of the room to register what I’m looking at, but then my stomach flips and my heart lodges in my throat. Because pinned to the inside of Hannah’s dress, right by her heart, is a small silver band.
Her wedding ring.
“Han…” I breathe, my hands coming up to cup her face, my thumbs running over her cheeks. I can’t look away from her face, and for the first time in my life, I am entirely without words.
“I like keeping it with me,” she says quietly, her words for me and me alone. “I know it started out as kind of a joke after we decided to stay married for the summer—that we would wearthem when we went out together somewhere and pretend to be a couple. But I liked wearing it, it turns out. And when I can’t, I like having it close. I’ve been carrying it everywhere since the night you took me to the Common and made me scream at midnight.” A pretty flush spreads over Hannah’s face and she looks away from me. “It’s stupid.”
