She rolled her eyes. “Not you too.”
“I’m terrible at dancing. And at this. But that doesn’t mean you should miss out.”
Wren’s gaze moved to me, and now her eyebrows were furrowed. She studied me for a long time, and I wondered what she was seeing.
Then she reached for the mic pack and flipped the switch on it. Before I knew it, she’d reached behind my sweater and done the same for me too.
“Okay, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied. “Go dance.” Her eyes narrowed. “I just need a minute. Then I’ll be fine.”
And I really did. I looked around, noticing there was a camera between me and the door. If I left in a rush like I wanted to, that might look bad. And despite how overwhelmed I was, I didn’t want that.
I scanned the rest of the bar, remembering one place I’d heard about.
I’d seen Mark post about his closet. Normally, it was off-limits, but he would have to understand if he caught me. I let Wren go and crossed the space. There was only one hallway with two bathrooms and a third nondescript door. I breathed out a sigh of relief and entered the dark room.
But it was only for a second because it quickly opened.
“Wren,” I said, turning to her. “Go back out there.”
She stepped in and closed the door. “No.”
I sighed and put my hand over my eyes. I needed to get her to leave so I could recover. She would ask questions—ones I had no answers to.
A long beat of silence stretched between us, both in the bar and the closet. She didn’t ask, and when I peeked at her, she was watching me. Giving me space but keeping me close.
Almost like she was simply making sure I was okay.
I was aware of every one of her breaths, and I waited for my irritation to grow.
It didn’t.
My clothes were too tight and the music resumed outside, but at least I wasn’t around the cameras. I tugged at my collar, getting momentary relief from it before I opened my eyes and looked at Wren.
But her eyes didn’t meet mine. She was now focused on my shirt, and her cool hands slid to the top button, undoing it.
“What’re you doing?”
“It’s obviously bothering you.”
“But—”
She shushed me. “Let me help you for a change.”
Her fingers opened two buttons before she pulled off my tie. I could already feel relief.
“I used to try to wear skinny jeans a long time ago. I’d feel a little like you do if I were in them.” Her voice was soft, but instead of adding to what I couldn’t take, she was like a beacon to focus on.
“I’m sorry, I’m not cut out for this.”
“It’s just a bar, Henry. Not exactly my scene either.”
“But if you wanted to dance?—”
“I would do it alone. But I don’t. I’m fine here.”
A part of me wanted to know if she was lying, but I also wanted her here.