Page 26 of Better Hate than Never

It’s not the right moment for a dip, but I do it anyway, smooth and fast, leaning forward. Kate arches back reflexively in my arms and gasps.

“Jesus, Christopher,” she hisses as I draw her upright, bringing her even tighter against my body. “You could have dropped me.”

My hand tucks her hips against mine, and a swallow works down my throat. “I’d never drop you, Kate.” She doesn’t answer me, but our eyes hold, hers hot as blue flames, as we take a slow step, then another. “You don’t trust me?” I press.

On our quick turn, her knee connects with my thigh.

I groan in pain. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Take that as a ‘no, and I’m pissed at you.’ You startled me, dipping me without warning.”

“You’re right,” I tell her, a pang of guilt echoing in my chest. “I startled you on purpose, and that was wrong.”

Kate nearly trips as we slide into a slow step, her head whipping my way. “What did you just say?”

“I said I was wrong. I know it’s hard to wrap your head around,” I tell her dryly, “but I can be wrong sometimes.”

She bursts out a smoky laugh that draws a few heads. “What’s hard to wrap my head around is that you’d admit it!”

My jaw clenches. “It’s not exactly a phrase you’ve practiced, either, Katerina.” Wrenching her to me, I pick up our pace and complicate the footwork, a thrill racing down my spine as she catches on and meets me, step for step.

“Guess what, Petruchio?” she says breathily, her hand clawing into my back to anchor her to me. “I have news for you. It’s a phrase I knowverywell.”

“Could have fooled me,” I grunt, my grip sinking into her waist.

“Because I reserve apologies for people who deserve to hear them.” She leans in, her breath hot on my ear, her mouth a whisper away from my neck. A rush of dizzying heat burns through me. “You just aren’t one of them.”

Her heel lands on the same toe, twice as hard as last time. And then she wrenches herself out of my arms and walks away.

•SEVEN•

Kate

I tell Bea I’m tired and heading back. I promise I’ll take a cab. I hug Sula goodbye and tell her happy birthday again, not that, based on her drunkenness, she’ll even remember. I hug Margo and let her cajole me into taking a shot with her that I needed desperately.

I walk the whole way home.

And because the brutally cold wind wasn’t enough to extinguish the aggravated heat pumping through my veins, I take a brutally cold shower, too.

I’m shivering when I get into bed, wrenching the sheets over me, and yet I’mstillburning hot. I must have a fever.

Lying on my back, staring up at the dark ceiling, I count to one hundred in three different languages I’ve learned in my travels, and when I’m still wide-awake, I know I’m not ready, that I won’t be able to sleep for a while. There’s a pulse between my thighs, a fierce, nagging ache coiling through my limbs. I feel agitated and antsy.

And so goddamn unnerved.

How dare Christopher dance like that? How dare he be so good not only at the tango but also at getting so far under my skin?

Restless, I whip off the sheets and stomp into Bea’s room, flicking on her soft nightstand light. There sits Cornelius the hedgehog, doing his nocturnal hedgehog thing, snuffling around.

Sighing, I plop down beside his elaborate living space and scratch gently against the screen. “Hey.”

Cornelius perks up when he sees me, big, dark eyes and wiggly little nose. He waddles closer and sniffs my finger, then, when he realizes it’s not food, turns and waddles off.

I watch him snuffle around the tiny doughnut-print sleeping bag I made him and sent Bea in my last care package while I was gone. Reaching up, I ease open the lid and slowly lower my hand. “Want to hang for a minute?” I ask. “I bear no mealworm treats, but Mom says you can’t have too many in one day or it’s unhealthy, and we gotta do what she says.”

He makes an irritated snuffle sound.

“I know. She’s such a party pooper, making sure you have your best chance at a long, happy, hedgie life.” Gently, I bring my hand closer. He steps onto it, and I cup my other hand around him, bringing him out of his cage.

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