Page 47 of Hunt for the Roses
I inhale, becoming more uncomfortable with the silence that feels like it’s lasting eternally. “Sorry if I talk too much, or I talk nonsense. It’s a habit.”
“It’s not a bad habit for you. It’s kind of cute,” Dane says.
I roll my eyes with a smile. “Thanks.”
“What’s that for?”
I turn to look at Dane. “Cute can just be a nice way of saying I’m annoying.”
“Out of all the things I find you to be, annoying is not one of them,” Dane assures me.
“Oh,” I say, and then I narrow my eyes. “What else do you find me to be?”
“Well, there’s neurotic.”
“Oh, great,” I say sarcastically.
Dane smirks as he continues. “Kind. Determined. Fun.”
I slowly nod my head as I eye him carefully. “Okay, you’re redeeming yourself.”
“Talented,” Dane adds.
I put a hand to my heart and look up toward the ceiling. “Stop it, you’re making me blush,” I joke. When I look back down at Dane, we both smile at each other, and then he squints his eyes as he turns his head toward the small dance floor by the stage where the live music is typically played.
After a few seconds, he turns to face me. “Speaking of talent, why don’t we end the night with some dancing?”
I look at him inquisitively as I hear Shakira’s “Me Gusta” softly play through the speakers. “You want to dance to this?”
“I think I can manage,” Dane says as he gets up from the barstool and holds his palm out to me. I’m still questioning Dane’s intentions with my eyes, but stretch a small smile across my face as I accept his invitation to the tiny dance floor. Once he guides us to the middle of the space, he holds our palms up in frame, and places his free palm around my waist while mine goes to his shoulder.
Dane tilts his chin up. “Step forward on your right foot.” I hold the smile on my face as I look down and follow his instructions, and as soon as I do, he steps back on his left foot. “When you step back, stop with both feet together.” Once I complete his next direction, I look up at him with a wider smile, waiting for him to continue coaching me. “Step back on your left, then come back to the middle again,” he says while looking between us. When I step back on my left foot, he steps forward with his right, and then we come back to the middle, both of us planting our feet together. “Now we just repeat,” he says.
I look back up at him and chuckle lightly, then look down again to watch my feet carefully as I try and remember the steps. I slowly step forward on my right foot, and he confidently steps back on his left.
“Now together,” he mutters to remind me of the next move.
Once my feet are planted together, I take a second to remember to step back on my left foot, while he steps forward on his right. After a few stumbled salsa moves, I start to pick up the steps quickly, and we get in a groove that is in sync with each other.
As we continue to follow the steps to the music, my excitement never falters when I look back up at Dane. Dane returns my expression, and we hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds before he releases my waist to spin me around in his hand. Dane’s smoothness on the floor takes me by surprise, and when I’m facing Dane again, I land closer to him, leaving only inches between us.
I’m still grinning like a kid on Christmas morning as I avert my eyes downward between us, and my free palm goes to his bicep. When I feel the hard muscle beneath his shirt, I feel a wave of heat scroll over my body for a fleeting moment, but our proximity doesn’t make me uncomfortable.
In a strange way, it almost feelstoocomfortable.
When the rough pad of his finger touches the exposed skin of my lower back, his gentle touch differs so much from the demeanor he showed earlier. Another flare of heat bursts under my skin, thinking about how passionate Dane was to stand up for me. And as I’m embraced in Dane’s arms now, he feels like my safe haven. Like shelter from the rain in a raging storm, he gives me hope that I’m going to beokay.
My eyes lock with Dane’s again, and our facial expressions mirror one another’s. We eventually fall into the salsa steps naturally, and it’s really a shame we haven’t danced together before.
“How did you learn to salsa?” I ask through our movements.
“My mom was always talking about taking dancing lessons, so I bought her a lesson for her birthday,” Dane says.
I stare at Dane in awe for several seconds as we continue alternating stepping forward and back to the rhythm of the music. Not knowing what to really say as our eyes are locked on each other’s, I smile shyly as I tip my gaze downward.
Dane lightly chuckles at my timidness. “Does that surprise you?”
I shrug as I pick my eyes back up to meet his. “A little. But in a good way.”
