Dear Aaron(117)

And they hadn’t left me since then.

Even on the car ride to the restaurant—a new one we hadn’t gone to yet—I’d been able to see him glancing at me through the rearview mirror every few seconds. With Max and Mindy in the truck, I hadn’t been ballsy enough to ask him if he was fine. And when we were led to a table, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, but he’d taken the decision right out of my hands when he’d pulled a chair out, gestured me toward it, and taken the seat directly beside it. The place was loud and crowded, and it shouldn’t have been surprising considering that the Fourth of July was the next day. Over to the far side of the restaurant was a small dance floor with three couples, two-stepping on it.

I could sense Aaron’s gaze on me as I scooted my chair forward and he did the same. Chancing a peek at him, I gave him a smile that was a lot weaker than any I’d given him yet, and he returned it to me, those eyes drilling into mine in this way that was completely new to me. Almost like… I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure at all, because I’d seen every man my mom had ever married look at her the same way. I’d seen my brother’s boyfriend look at my brother that way.

And Aaron wasn’t supposed to be looking at me the same. Not even close.

We all ordered and ate, with Max and Des taking ahold of the conversation about a sports team I’d never heard of. Meanwhile, I tried to collect my thoughts. Tried to plan what I could tell Aaron when he decided to talk to me again. Would we brush everything off and act like nothing had happened the night before? I wondered, bringing my fork to my mouth. I’d just closed my lips around it when I felt a hand cover my right one. The palm of Aaron’s hand covered the back of my hand, his fingers going over mine.

This was a good sign, wasn’t it?

With his free hand, he gestured to the waiter who was busy collecting Max’s empty plate. “A double please.”

“Of?” the man asked.

“Anything.”

I shot Aaron a frown as he let out a choppy exhale, his eyes now on his own mostly empty plate. If it wouldn’t have been for the weight of his hand on mine and the thumb moving along the bone that stretched from my pinky to my wrist, I would have asked him if he was fine, but I didn’t want to ruin it, as selfish as that made me.

But Aaron’s hand didn’t go anywhere even though he didn’t say anything until after the waiter had brought a glass filled with amber liquid and he’d sucked it down in record time, tossing it back like whatever was in it was water. He didn’t cough, he didn’t squirm, nothing.

I glanced over at the other end of the table to see Brittany and Des both watching him with a funny expression on their faces, and when they caught me looking at them, all I could do was lift a shoulder in a shrug, not wanting to take credit for leading Aaron to drink a double.

When the hand over mine squeezed it one more time, he leaned to the side and whispered, “Come dance with me.”

Uh. “Okay? I don’t really dance though…”

“We’ll make it work,” he said, already pulling me up to my feet, his gaze so intense, I almost started to worry.

I nodded and followed behind him as he maneuvered between tables and toward the tiny area in the back with a dance floor empty now except for a single older couple, swaying together. This wasn’t exactly the type of atmosphere I danced in when I usually did. On the rare occasion it happened, it was usually on a crowded floor at someone’s wedding or party when everyone was too hammered to pay attention to what was going on.

And this wasn’t a crowded floor.

But surprisingly, the instant that Aaron stopped at nearly the middle of the very small floor and reached out to me with both of his hands going to my waist, I stopped thinking. Stopped caring. Anyone could have been sitting there watching me and judging me and it wouldn’t have mattered in the least. With my stomach still feeling off about his reaction to everything that had been said and done over the last twenty-four hours, I was equal parts nervous and apprehensive to be so close to him.

Mostly nervous though, even as my arms went up and my hands went to his shoulders. For some reason, linking them around his neck just seemed too personal.

And Aaron must have noticed because he shuffled closer to me, so close that our fronts grazed one another’s. I’d danced with enough men in the past, friends of my brothers and distant relatives to know that this wasn’t how it was done.

I stopped breathing and asked, “What are you doing?”

For one brief moment, Aaron looked me right in the eye and then brought us even closer together, so close I could feel the side of his jaw at my temple.

I wasn’t going to overanalyze him not wanting to make eye contact and bringing us so close together there was no way this was friendly.

I wasn’t.

But I did.

Because what the hell was happening?

“What are you thinking?” I tried not to hiss but failed.

Something raspy touched my temple, and I didn’t imagine the sigh that made his chest meet mine. His voice was lower, hoarser, the words dragged and slow. “You really want to know?”

Did I? “Not if it’s something bad,” I told him, just barely loud enough for him to hear me over the music, people’s voices, and the tinkling of plates and silverware.

He made this chuffing sound that could have been a single laugh on the verge of tears. “Ruby girl…”