Page 98 of Dance with Me
“Where do you go on a date with someone you really like?”
There was a pause, followed by hooting laughter. Dimitri gritted his teeth and decided to make a detour on the way home.
“Just tell me.”
“Are we talking about Natasha?”
“Of course.”
“Bro, isn’t it a little late for this? You guys have been . . . you know . . . for years now.”
“Never too late.” Dimitri parked in the lot and popped in his earpiece so he could continue the call outside the car. “What’s wrong? You don’t go on dates?”
“Oh, I go on dates. You’re the one who doesn’t go on dates. Too busy living that celebrity life.”
It grated, because Nik was right. Clubs and parties filled with other celebrities weren’t the same.
While Dimitri surveyed the selection at the supermarket, Nik spilled the goods. “You live in LA. There’s tons of shit to do with women. Go to a museum, go to the beach, go hiking, go to a couples spa. It’s all about spending time together and sharing experiences. Doesn’t really matter what you do. Hell, you could take in a movie and share a giant tub of popcorn, like the regular folk do. Go see something scary so she has to cuddle up next to you.”
“Cuddling?” Dimitri made his choice and ran to pay.
“Yeah, it’s supposed to be a precursor to sex, but you guys skipped over all that. You gotta show her you’re not afraid of creepy dolls or haunted houses, shit like that.”
“Wait, dolls? You lost me.” Dimitri jogged through the lot back to his car, clutching his purchase. “Okay, so movies, outdoor shit, sharing experiences. Got it.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to fuck this up?”
“I’m not.”
“You are. And it’ll be glorious to watch. Except Ma will be upset.”
“Nobody’s gonna be upset. Call me if you think of any other dates.”
“No. You’re on your own. Don’t fuck it up.”
“I wo—”
The line went dead. Dimitri tossed his purchase onto the passenger seat and raced back to his house.
Anticipation built as he got closer. Not to home, but to her. The two had become synonymous. Home. Natasha. Home. Tasha. A longing in his gut, pulling him toward her. The lingering scent of figs and ginger.
He loved her so much. He’d spend forever showing her, if she’d let him.
Last night, they’d crossed a threshold. He’d revealed everything he was—his hopes, his dreams, his fears. She’d seen him so clearly, and when he approached her about her own challenges—managing her finances—she seemed more open to letting him help. As much as he wanted to swoop in and fix everything for her, she wouldn’t welcome it, and it wouldn’t help her in the long run.
Just because she let him get away with being pushy didn’t mean he had to be that way all the time.
Compromise. That was a couple thing, right? They were on their way. They’d make it work.
He parked in front of the house, too anxious to even use the garage, and besides, he had to get back to Alex. Going in through the front door, he paused, holding his gift, listening for her. Rustling noises came from the spare bedroom. Smiling, he strode through the living room to greet her.
He froze the second he hit the doorway. What. The. Fuck.
Instead of Natasha’s sassy grin, he was met with chaos. She sat on the floor, right foot stuck out straight, surrounded by everything she had brought with her from her apartment. At the moment, she was cramming those things into her suitcase and duffle bags.
He blinked. His heart pounded. None of it made sense. “What are you doing?”
He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but she turned. Behind her red-framed glasses, her eyes were wide and wild. He had a flashback to a few weeks earlier, when he surprised her at her own apartment. She had the same look on her face.
