Page 100 of Between Love and War
Now, crush my hopes and tell me that’s delusional. Idareyou.
The music shifts to a slower rhythm, and couples pair off on the dance floor. Michael leans closer, resting his forearms on the table like he’s about to ask me something illegal. “Dance with me?”
I blink. “Like… now?”
“No, I meant next week.” He deadpans, then grins. “Yes, now, Katie.”
“I should warn you, I’m more of a swayer than a dancer,” I say as he stands and extends his hand.
“Okay, then, sway with me?” He wiggles his fingers.
I put my hand in his.
It’s warm. Big. And steady, like it was designed to hold mine. I briefly panic about whether my palm is clammy, but then he gives the slightest squeeze, and it’s like my heart forgets how to function and my feet forget how to move.
The lights are soft and glowy in here, which accompanies the mood perfectly. He pulls me toward the cleared center of the hall, where a few couples are already swaying, and wraps one arm gently around my waist. His other hand finds mine again. My free hand awkwardly hovers before I settle it on his shoulder like I’ve seen people do in movies. I immediately regret not watching a YouTube tutorial before this.
“You’re a great swayer,” he says. I just chuckle, because my mouth also forgot what words are.
Michael moves my hand from his to the back of his neck, which, I admit, is difficult to reach, so I just put both my hands on his shoulders, as he puts both of his on my waist. His left hand snakes to my back and pulls me closer, and I just… follow.
“I’ve been watching you, you know,” he says suddenly.
I squint my eyes at him. “In a serial killer way, or…?”
He barks out a laugh. “No, just… how you look. How you laugh. How you keep watching everyone like you’re trying to write them down. You look at everything with your own personalized lenses that see all this… beauty in things.”
My throat goes dry. My brain glitches. Because, what do youmeanhe noticed all that? That I romanticize the world? That I look at people and analyze the way they look at each other?
“And I keep thinking,” he continues, voice gentler now, and completely oblivious to the fire in my chest and the war in my head, “how unfair it is that no one’s ever looked atyouthe way you look at everything else.” Our eyes meet, and he adds, “Until now.”
And that’s it. I flatline. I spiritually ascend. The axis of my emotional world has shifted to the left. Or right. Or whatever direction it is to the nearest black hole.
Because what do you even say to that?
How do you respond when the boy you’ve been pretending not to fall for just casually says the mostdevastatingly romanticthing you’ve ever heard?
Before I can say anything, or before I can faint, the lights flicker once. Then again.
Then darkness.
The music cuts off, and there’s a beat of stunned silence before someone (Haley, obviously) yells, “Okay, who did that?!”
But I hardly notice.
Because Michael’s still holding me. His hand doesn’t twitch. Doesn’t loosen. His grip stays steady. He leans in, like he’s moving through the dark by instinct.
“Katie,” he says, his voice soft and near my ear. “I know you got spooked the first time. I didn’t want to do that again. And then we got interrupted the last time.”
I blink, breath catching.
“I don’t want to rush you,” he continues. “I just… I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night. Maybe longer. But I’ll only do it if you say yes.”
Forget the power grid. My brain is shutting down.
My heart is punching its way out of my chest. But somehow, I still manage to whisper, “Yeah. Okay. Yes.”
He hesitates for a second. “You sure?”
