Page 16 of A Shot at Love
He continues as if I haven’t spoken. “It was mostly because of Jeff. He wanted me to ask her if she’s open to dating shorter guys.”
I let out a delighted, shocked laugh. “What did she say?”
“She just rolled her eyes and went over to talk to him herself. He looked scared when she dragged him onto the dance floor.”
“No way!” I put my hands on Daniel’s shoulders and push up onto my tiptoes, peeking behind him. I can just see Jadea trying to dance battle Jeff and his absolutely bewildered and delighted expression. “He’s not even that short!” I protest, about to lower myself back down. Instead, Daniel turns partway to look back at them too, nudging my leg with his. I rock back on my heels, losing my grip on his shoulders slightly. I think I’m about to crash into the couple dancing behind us when Daniel’s firm grip grabs my waist.
The breath flees my lungs and when I meet his gaze, we’re only inches apart. “You okay?” he asks, also sounding slightly out of breath.
“Yeah,” I whisper, my brain feeling short-circuited. Our sticky bodies are pressed together, his hands hot on my waist. With shaking hands, I loop my arms behind his head. “Daniel, will you dance with me?” I’m stillwhispering, perhaps unwilling to admit what his touch still does to me after all these years.
He leans in fully, so our foreheads touch. “I was waiting for the most beautiful girl in the room to ask me to dance.” I snort a laugh, and we begin to slowly sway, which is totally at odds with C+C Factory’s 90’s sporty hip-hop fusion. “Did you dress that way for me?” he murmurs, that telltale smile twitching on his lips.
I pull away, about to launch into a feminist rant about dressing for yourself and how he wasn’t even in my thoughts when I designed the outfit, but he continues before I can. “Because I work in sports, right?” He swivels my baseball cap around, so he can see the Stanford logo. At the sight, he lets out a low whistle. “And the beloved Stanford tree? You know how to make a guy weak in the knees.”
I laugh again. “Next time I’ll wear full football pads.”
He’s laughing then, too, and I grab his hands, spinning us both. I’m surprised to see that Daniel is actually a good dancer. I never really gave him the chance when we went out at Stanford. Once the shock at my extremely risky spin move has passed, he starts spinning me around more and more. I step on his feet at least twice, but he doesn’t flinch. He even tries to dip me, but I keep tensing up like a board and that leads to him demonstrating the proper technique by having me diphim. A woman next to us takes a video, and I don’t even mind. Three songs come and go, with us laughing and hardly keeping our hands off each other.
Some of the glitter on my cheek has transferred onto his cheek and when I try to wipe it away, it just smears into his skin even worse. “What?” He rubs his cheek. “Don’t tell me you think men can’t wear glitter.”
I laugh and spin him around again, my gaze snagging on the back of his shoe.
And there it is, the Sharpie-drawn basketball and track cleat. Representatives of Daniel and me. I grow even warmer at the sight. Daniel left me, and I don’t know why. Maybe that car accident made him realize he wanted someone better. Or that he needed a fresh start. Both terrible excuses to ghost your girlfriend of five months, but Jadea might be right. He could have grown up since then. Shaken off the accident. Maybe we can be friends. It would make things easier these next two weeks.
I’m still dancing foolishly when my phone vibrates in my dress pocket. I ignore it at first, sure that it’s my mom. I’ll call her back tomorrow. Considering it’s after midnight, it seems unlikely that it’s the press. After the first call, it rings two more times. When I still ignore those, I feel the quick buzzes of numerous text messages coming in.
Maybe there’s an emergency? “One sec,” I promise Daniel, taking a step back from him apologetically. He shrugs good-naturedly as I pull out my phone.
There’s a split-second of relief when I see it isn’t my mom calling. Instead, my heart starts racing when I see that Jack has sent me a message. I open it with a trembling finger.
Unknown Number: Hi, Annie. It’s Jack Smith. I really need to talk to you. It involves the team.
There’s a break where I see the moving dots that mean he’s typing. I hold my breath.
He sends, isolated:
Unknown Number: Please.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, thumbs hovering over the keys. Is this really about the team? Or is this a ploy to see me?
I hate the small part of me that really wants to go.
Daniel approaches me. “What’s wrong?”
My mouth twists, remembering the strange joy of dancing with Daniel. Now, reality comes rushing back in. “It’s Jack. He says he needs to see me urgently.”
Daniel raises a brow. “Jack Smith? As in the Jack Smith you are supposed to be avoiding? As in Jack Smith, your father and the owner of your team?”
“That about sums it up.” I rub my forehead tiredly. Is Jack on my side? What about his son, my brother Trenton, who is head of the board? Should we all be fighting this thing together? Or maybe I should be separating myself from them instead? I scan the room for Jadea, and Jeff, but don’t see her. I just want to go home.
“Text Jadea.” Daniel gently grabs my elbow, steering us towards the exit. “I’ll take you home.”
“Thanks.” I sigh, leaning into his touch slightly. The cool air feels incredible on my skin and some clarity sneaks in. Whatever is going on with me is secondary. I have to protect Jadea and my girls, the Arrows. If Jack is doing something to jeopardize that, I need to know.
Sitting in Daniel’s cool rental car, I finally type out my response and send it to Jack.
Annie: Okay. Tell me where and when.
