Show Me How
Page 16
There had been no fluttering in my stomach or racing heart during our short conversation. My breath hadn’t caught at his smile or laugh, even though Graham had always been one of the most attractive guys in town. But now, now my pulse was erratic and speeding up with each passing second. I couldn’t seem to form words as I tried to make connections between the person sitting next to me, and the one I had been writing to.
“Uh,” I forced out.
“Come on, one dance. We finally got you out in public with everyone, we’re all having fun, you can’t just sit back and watch the party happen.”
I nodded slowly, and then more confidently. “Okay.”
I stood and gently laid Keith across two chairs, then let Graham lead me out onto the dance floor.
The song was an old one, and fast paced. I didn’t have time to let insecurities take over before Graham spun me away, then pulled me closer. A laugh bubbled from my chest before I could attempt to stop it, and then we were moving.
We quickly got lost in the mass of people trying to figure out a way to dance to a song that clearly had no right way of dancing to it. My cheeks burned with heat from trying to let loose for once, as well as the look Grey gave me when she saw me dancing with her older brother.
In that look from Grey, I remembered why I’d let Graham bring me out here at all. But there was no way to try to understand Graham or why he had been so nice lately, and there was no connecting him to a stranger in that moment.
Like before, the fluttering was gone. The racing in my heart was only from our fast movements and the loud music. Even when Graham’s hand slid around mine to pull me toward him, or to quickly spin me away again . . . there was nothing.
All of it, every feeling had only been prompted by the thought that I might be face-to-face with a guy who hid behind pages in my book.
The song ended and transitioned into something slower, more intimate, and I felt myself retreating from the reception and the dance floor before my body could begin doing the same. Almost impulsively, my arm curled around my waist as my head bowed. Just as I began to take a step back, a warm voice came from behind me, and a shiver moved down my spine at the sound.
“Charlie Girl . . .”
Irrational, betraying heart.
My chest rose and fell in an exaggerated movement, and a longing to hear those two words rose up inside me at the same time I wanted to demand he never call me that again. Instead of turning around, I looked up at the suspicion crossing Graham’s face.
One of his eyebrows lifted slowly, but otherwise he didn’t say anything as he stared at his best friend.
“Can I cut in?” Deacon asked.
Graham’s lip curled to match his brow. “Can you be nice?”
Something silent passed between the two, and seconds later, Graham’s face relaxed and he took a step back.
I glanced over my shoulder to find Deacon watching me patiently, his hand slightly extended toward me.
“What do you say?” he asked gruffly.
“I don’t slow dance.”
“Neither do I,” he responded immediately, but still he took a step toward me and slid his hand around my waist.
Deacon turned me slowly and pulled me closer until our bodies were pressed against each other. He grasped my hand in his, and brought our joined hands between our chests as he began rocking us.
Whether or not we were moving to the music, I didn’t know.
Because at that moment, I couldn’t look away from his eyes.
For the first time in so, so long, there was something missing from them. Coldness. Anger. Everything I’d come to expect from Deacon, and everything I’d been shying away from was now replaced with guilt and confusion and wonder.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. My words were so soft they almost got lost in the music filling the outdoor tent.
“I’m sorry.”
If it weren’t for Deacon leading us, his apology would have halted our movements the way it halted the pounding of my heart.
“I’m sorry for what I said to you. You didn’t deserve it—”
My head tilted to the side and shook once in a subtle plea for him to stop talking. I tried to pull away from him, but he held me tighter, his eyes pled with me to stay as his words tumbled from his lips quickly and quietly.
“—the way you looked at me that day, I can’t stop thinking about it. I hate that you looked like you—”
“Please stop.” My head shook faster as panic started rising in my throat. My gaze quickly moved through the couples on the floor, searching for Jagger and Grey, making sure they weren’t close enough to hear Deacon.
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I was stressed out over this—”
“Deacon, stop,” I demanded, my voice still as soft as a whisper.
I finally succeeded at shoving away from his hold, and turned to walk away from him, but he was still there.
Within seconds his arm was around my waist and he was guiding me from the dance floor, past the tables, and out of the tent. As soon as we were a dozen feet away, surrounded in equal parts night and light from the reception, Deacon pulled me into his arms as if we were dancing again.
“What are you doing?”
“Making you talk to me.”
In the back of my mind, I knew it was because he thought I would walk away again, but something about the darkness, his voice, and being with him like this made me shiver again.
Before he could begin talking again, I shook my head quickly to clear my mind of the way he made me feel, and grit my teeth as I focused on my anger. “I don’t want your excuses.”
“They aren’t excuses, I’m explaining why—”
“I don’t need explanations for what you said, either!” I hissed, cutting him off. “All I ever wanted was to know why you suddenly had so much hatred toward me. You told me. That’s it; it’s over. There’s nothing left to explain. You don’t have to apologize for feeling the way you do. And you didn’t have to dance with me to try to make up for some words you said.” I pressed my hands against his chest and pushed, but he held tight to my waist, not willing to let me go.
“It was the only way to get you to talk to me.”
I hated that a part of me had foolishly believed that he would want to dance with me.
Irrational, betraying heart.
“Both were unnecessary. I’m a big girl, Deacon, and as you reminded me, I have a spine; I know how to handle you and move on with my life.”
“Uh,” I forced out.
“Come on, one dance. We finally got you out in public with everyone, we’re all having fun, you can’t just sit back and watch the party happen.”
I nodded slowly, and then more confidently. “Okay.”
I stood and gently laid Keith across two chairs, then let Graham lead me out onto the dance floor.
The song was an old one, and fast paced. I didn’t have time to let insecurities take over before Graham spun me away, then pulled me closer. A laugh bubbled from my chest before I could attempt to stop it, and then we were moving.
We quickly got lost in the mass of people trying to figure out a way to dance to a song that clearly had no right way of dancing to it. My cheeks burned with heat from trying to let loose for once, as well as the look Grey gave me when she saw me dancing with her older brother.
In that look from Grey, I remembered why I’d let Graham bring me out here at all. But there was no way to try to understand Graham or why he had been so nice lately, and there was no connecting him to a stranger in that moment.
Like before, the fluttering was gone. The racing in my heart was only from our fast movements and the loud music. Even when Graham’s hand slid around mine to pull me toward him, or to quickly spin me away again . . . there was nothing.
All of it, every feeling had only been prompted by the thought that I might be face-to-face with a guy who hid behind pages in my book.
The song ended and transitioned into something slower, more intimate, and I felt myself retreating from the reception and the dance floor before my body could begin doing the same. Almost impulsively, my arm curled around my waist as my head bowed. Just as I began to take a step back, a warm voice came from behind me, and a shiver moved down my spine at the sound.
“Charlie Girl . . .”
Irrational, betraying heart.
My chest rose and fell in an exaggerated movement, and a longing to hear those two words rose up inside me at the same time I wanted to demand he never call me that again. Instead of turning around, I looked up at the suspicion crossing Graham’s face.
One of his eyebrows lifted slowly, but otherwise he didn’t say anything as he stared at his best friend.
“Can I cut in?” Deacon asked.
Graham’s lip curled to match his brow. “Can you be nice?”
Something silent passed between the two, and seconds later, Graham’s face relaxed and he took a step back.
I glanced over my shoulder to find Deacon watching me patiently, his hand slightly extended toward me.
“What do you say?” he asked gruffly.
“I don’t slow dance.”
“Neither do I,” he responded immediately, but still he took a step toward me and slid his hand around my waist.
Deacon turned me slowly and pulled me closer until our bodies were pressed against each other. He grasped my hand in his, and brought our joined hands between our chests as he began rocking us.
Whether or not we were moving to the music, I didn’t know.
Because at that moment, I couldn’t look away from his eyes.
For the first time in so, so long, there was something missing from them. Coldness. Anger. Everything I’d come to expect from Deacon, and everything I’d been shying away from was now replaced with guilt and confusion and wonder.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. My words were so soft they almost got lost in the music filling the outdoor tent.
“I’m sorry.”
If it weren’t for Deacon leading us, his apology would have halted our movements the way it halted the pounding of my heart.
“I’m sorry for what I said to you. You didn’t deserve it—”
My head tilted to the side and shook once in a subtle plea for him to stop talking. I tried to pull away from him, but he held me tighter, his eyes pled with me to stay as his words tumbled from his lips quickly and quietly.
“—the way you looked at me that day, I can’t stop thinking about it. I hate that you looked like you—”
“Please stop.” My head shook faster as panic started rising in my throat. My gaze quickly moved through the couples on the floor, searching for Jagger and Grey, making sure they weren’t close enough to hear Deacon.
“I shouldn’t have said anything. I was stressed out over this—”
“Deacon, stop,” I demanded, my voice still as soft as a whisper.
I finally succeeded at shoving away from his hold, and turned to walk away from him, but he was still there.
Within seconds his arm was around my waist and he was guiding me from the dance floor, past the tables, and out of the tent. As soon as we were a dozen feet away, surrounded in equal parts night and light from the reception, Deacon pulled me into his arms as if we were dancing again.
“What are you doing?”
“Making you talk to me.”
In the back of my mind, I knew it was because he thought I would walk away again, but something about the darkness, his voice, and being with him like this made me shiver again.
Before he could begin talking again, I shook my head quickly to clear my mind of the way he made me feel, and grit my teeth as I focused on my anger. “I don’t want your excuses.”
“They aren’t excuses, I’m explaining why—”
“I don’t need explanations for what you said, either!” I hissed, cutting him off. “All I ever wanted was to know why you suddenly had so much hatred toward me. You told me. That’s it; it’s over. There’s nothing left to explain. You don’t have to apologize for feeling the way you do. And you didn’t have to dance with me to try to make up for some words you said.” I pressed my hands against his chest and pushed, but he held tight to my waist, not willing to let me go.
“It was the only way to get you to talk to me.”
I hated that a part of me had foolishly believed that he would want to dance with me.
Irrational, betraying heart.
“Both were unnecessary. I’m a big girl, Deacon, and as you reminded me, I have a spine; I know how to handle you and move on with my life.”
