Page 48 of Hunt for the Roses
While the last lines of the song are playing, Dane spins me around in his one palm and I can’t help but tilt my head back in laughter. When we’re back in hold, we’re chest to chest as we laugh together and execute the final salsa moves.
“Consider this a start to your ballroom dancing lessons,” Dane says when the song ends, and we’re standing in each other’s arms.
I furrow my brows in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Fourth of July. You told me you wanted to take ballroom dancing classes as you were spinning under my palm. Tipsy might I add.”
My face softens as I study his green hues for several moments. “You remember that?”
Dane averts his eyes between us as he nods. “Yeah, I do. I guess I want to make sure you get to do all the things you want to do.” Then he picks his head up to look at me. “I think it’s time you start living foryouagain. Do what makes you happy.”
I swallow a lump in my throat as I take in what Dane’s saying. I haven’t lived for myself in over a year. I’ve lived for my tears, my pain, and my sadness. But I’ve yet to live for my happiness again. I guess I never thought about it until now.
Until Dane.
How can he see me so clearly and understand what’s going on in my mind without me voicing it? Has he always been this intuitive?
Dane clears his throat as he slowly releases me and gestures his chin to the exit. “Ready?”
I’m caught off guard for a second, seemingly too deep in thought to recover from the conversation whiplash, so I just nod my head.
Once I grab my purse, we walk through the double doors of the bar, and we’re walking side by side when I turn to him. “Dane, I can call an Uber if you wanted to stay out.”
Dane turns his head toward me with furrowed brows. “What?”
I vaguely twist my palm out. “If you want to pick up a girl tonight, don’t let me stop you.”
Dane smiles as he turns his head forward. “I’m already with a girl tonight.”
I roll my eyes as I look at his side profile. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” When we reach his car that was parked at the meter, he stands in front of the passenger door with his hands in his jean pockets, and turns to look at me. “But can I be completely honest with you?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say with a questionable tone, not knowing what truth he’s going to lay on me.
“You’re a lot more fun than I expected you to be,” Dane says as he looks carefully over my facial features, like he’s trying to understand what he’s talking about.
“Well, thanks,” I say as I place a hand on my hip, feigning offense.
Dane smirks as he looks down to open the passenger side door of his car, and as he’s opening it, he looks back up at me. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t expect to have as good of a time with me either,” he starts off, and then when the car door is opened all the way, Dane rests his forearm on the top of the open car door, and shoves a hand in his jeans pocket.
I narrow my eyes at Dane. “It’s so typical of you to assume I enjoyed my time with you.”
“Are you saying you didn’t?”
I scrunch my lips to the side as I make it like I’m debating my answer, and then I finally shrug as I say, “Well, you did teach me salsa.”
“That I did.”
“How did it go?” I say before I step forward on my right foot, then back together, then back on my left foot. “And then I think it went something like this,” I say before breaking out a few ridiculous dance moves with my hands in the air and rolling my body.
Dane lets out the loudest laugh I’ve ever heard from him, and I stop and laugh with him as loose strands of my hair are whipped around my face chaotically. I continue to chuckle as I brush my hair from my face and walk closer to him at the passenger side door.
Then Dane shakes his head at me, breathless from laughing. “You’re so sexy.”
At first, I think Dane’s playing along and being sarcastic, but as I look into his eyes, Dane’s playfulness seems to have faded and been replaced with something else. Something I’m not used to seeing from Dane.
I feel my own laughter start to die down as I hold his eyes, and my smile dips as words get caught in my throat. Dane runs a nervous hand through his hair and looks off to the side as he clears his throat, almost like he got caught saying something he knew he shouldn’t have said, or slipped up by saying the one thing he was trying to refrain from saying all night.
