Folding her arms across her chest, she purses her lips. “And what's that?”
“Dance with me.”
“What?” she scoffs, giggling as she lets her eyes flick to Kira. “Dance with you?”
“Dance with me just this once, and I'll never bother you again.”
Her demeanor changes, brows snapping down hard. “Fuck you,” she barks, flaring her nostrils. “I'm not doing that. I'm not dancing with you. You don't deserve it.”
“All right, fine, have it your way. I'll just keep talking then. I'll follow you around, everywhere you go, and I'll just ramble. I'll tell you all about the camp I went to as a kid, and the Christmas I spent with my grandmother in Florida, where I spent four hours cleaning her basement. I have a million stories, Dalia, you'll get to hear them all.”
Kira holds up her hand, using it stop me from speaking. “Okay, Lyle, enough. You're not helping yourself here.”
“I think I am,” I say with a smirk as I keep my eyes on Dalia.
“Fuck—”
Dalia sets her hand on Kira's back, and smiles. “Thanks, Kira, but this time I got it.”
“You sure?” she asks, her eyes turning to pinpricks as she glares at me.
She's mad, and I get it. I understand she wants to protect her friend from getting hurt. But I'm not here to hurt her. I don't want to cause Dalia any pain.
“Yeah, I'm sure.” Dalia closes the space between us, her eyes firmly secured on mine. “What are you really doing here, Lyle? What is it you want from me?”
Holding an open hand over my heart, I bow my head. “Just one dance, that's it. I swear. I got all dressed up, and it would kill me if I did this all for nothing. I just want one dance tonight.”
“One dance, right?”
“That's right, just one.”
“And then you'll leave me alone?”
Tipping my chin into my chest, I rest a hand on my heart. “Absolutely.”
“Fine,” she agrees, surprising me.
“Really?” I ask, honestly thinking it would take a lot more convincing.
Tilting her ear to the ceiling, she listens carefully for a moment. “It's now or never,” she says, noting with a finger towards the speaker that the music is slow.
Grabbing her hand, I don't waste any time, pulling her to the dance floor. Placing my hands on her hips, her eyes won't connect with mine. She’s looking all over the place. The floor, the people beside us, the back wall, the ceiling.
What is she thinking? What's going through her mind?
We move in a small circle, her hands timidly resting on my shoulders like I'm covered in spines.
“I'm not going to bite you,” I say, pulling her in closer. “Unless you want me to.”
“You said you wouldn't talk.” Her eyes finally flick up to mine, and even with the anger I can see on her face, I'm happy, because she's actually looking at me.
Smiling through thin lips, I wrap my arm tight around her waist, and take one of her hands. I'm leading us in this dance, taking small steps. We move to the beat, swaying side to side.
I'm trying to keep my mouth shut, I really am. It's just hard as fuck.
Dalia is looking off to the side, avoiding me at all costs. I can't have that. I won't have it.
It bugs me that she's refusing to even look at me. We don't have to talk, but she needs to see the unspoken apology on my face.
Gripping her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I force her to look at me. “I told you I wouldn't talk, but I want you to look at me.”
“Why should I do anything for you?”
“Because you feel it too. You feel the same thing I do.”
Her lids lower as her lips shift to one side. “You don't know what I feel, Lyle. So don't pretend you do.”
Running my thumb across her jaw, I lick my lips. I want to kiss her, I want to taste her, and feel her, and let her know exactly what I'm thinking.
“I know more than you think.” My thumb sweeps around the curve of her jaw, gently moving back in the other direction. The very tip of my thumb slides across the bottom ridge of her lip, causing her to inhale a quick breath. “I know I like the way I feel when I'm with you.” My fingers push past her face and around her head, gripping her nape. “I know I like the way you feel when you're in my hands.”
Dalia stops dancing, focusing sharp eyes on my face. “What are you doing, Lyle?”
Scooping her face in my hands, I hold her there. From the corner of my eye I see a familiar figure in the background. My eyes glance up, and I feel the sizzle of anger in her stare.
Sandy is leaning against the back wall, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes lit with fire. The anger is pouring out of her like lava. I'm not sure why she looks so pissed.
Maybe it's because I'm not alone like she is.
Maybe it's because she thought I wasn't coming and now I'm here.
Maybe it's because she hates anyone she thinks is beneath her, and she considers Dalia one of those people.
“Lyle,” Dalia whispers, drawing my gaze back to her.
“Yeah?” I ask, looking quickly back over her shoulder, and noticing my sister's gone.
“Why me?” Her voice is so soft I almost miss the question.
Holding her cheeks, I smile. “Why not you?”
Her eyes light up, exploding with a million little fireworks.
Kiss her!
The voice inside my head is strong and loud, and I have no choice but to listen. This could be my only chance. Lowering my face, I brush her nose with the tip of mine. Our lips are so close I can smell the vanilla scent of her lip gloss and
