Hold My Breath(26)

“Actually…” My head tips down, my eyes at her waist. I glance up into her surprised expression and shrug, letting my hand slide from her arm until I’m holding an open palm in front of her. “Whataya say? I don’t think I ever actually got to dance with you.”

Her brow bunches and she looks out at the people dancing under the strings of lights. She cups the back of her neck, and her eyes come to me again.

“You…dance?” she asks.

I close one eye, and wrinkle my other brow.

“I mean, not in a while, but yeah. I can handle the two-step,” I say, starting to feel silly holding my hand out for her to take. She looks at it again, then back up to me, finally taking my palm and smiling on one side of her mouth.

Her fingers are tiny in my grasp. I don’t know how they’re so lethal in the water, and I’m careful with them as I turn and lead her to an open area on the outdoor patio. My pulse quickens when I realize I have to turn and face her, and my other hand needs to hold her close. I thread my fingers through hers, our hands held at shoulder height between us while my other hand moves nervously to the curve of her waist.

I sway forward and back in rhythm with the rushing fiddles and guitar, and I concentrate on keeping this exact, arbitrary amount of space between our bodies for the entirety of the song. I don’t realize how rigid my muscles are or how long I’ve been holding my breath until the song ends and the couples around us all break away from each other to clap. I let go of her hand and turn to the side, clapping loudly, my palms sweaty and my chest working to catch up on air.

Maddy leans into me.

“You barely know your way around a dance floor,” she says. I wince and look at her. “It’s okay. Your brother never danced either.”

My lungs grow tight, and my heart stops for a second. The light in her eyes dims.

“Let’s take this next one nice and slow,” the lead singer says into the mic.

Maddy shrugs and turns to leave the dance floor, and I do something stupid…again.

“One more chance,” I say, reaching down and wrapping my fingers around her wrist. She turns into me, and I catch her, this time holding her close enough to feel her gasp. I swallow away my nerves, our foreheads so close they almost touch. She peers up at me through her lashes as I reach down, grabbing her other hand, before dragging them both up to my shoulders. “I’m not a bad dancer. I was just nervous.”

I clench my fists, hidden from her view, before forcing myself to run my fingertips along her hips, wrapping them around the small of her back, bringing our bodies even closer. With nowhere else to go, Maddy’s head falls against my chest, a perfect fit under my chin—and the last hold on her hair slips loose. I bring my hand up to sweep her hair over her shoulder, and I feel her take a sharp breath again when I do, so I stop, moving my touch back to her waist.

I can feel her relax with every step we take, her body resting against mine, depending more on me, until the singer reaches the chorus and I’m finally holding her like she’s where she’s meant to be. I look around at the world from this view. Her friends have each found partners, and strangers enter and exit the dance floor. Nothing has changed, yet somehow, just by holding her, everything feels different. My heart is slow, the storm inside calm. It’s time to be brave again.

“Evan never took you dancing?” I ask.

Her shoulders tense, and I let my eyes fall closed. There is no room for us unless we can find a way to live with talking about my brother.

“He didn’t like the attention, he said. We’d go out, but usually we’d sit at the bar, or maybe shoot pool,” she says. I notice the way her cheek feels against me when she talks. I breathe in deep—a blend of citrus and coconut radiating from her skin. I swallow hard, and I know she feels it. Her shoulders grow even more tense.

“I bet you kicked his ass at pool,” I say, opening my eyes and scanning at our surroundings. It was a pool game that lead to me breaking open their secret. Evan and I were playing here, and Maddy was hanging out near our table with a few of our old friends from high school. Evan lost the game, and I played the winner. Maddy disappeared, and a few minutes later, he followed her. I probably already knew, but I just had to see it for myself. I let the guy playing me win, and I went for a walk. I found them in the dark, and after embarrassment faded, I pretended I was happy they were together.

I adjust my hold, and the feel of her strong back under my fingertips forces my eyes closed again. Without even thinking, I let my lips fall forward against the top of her head. I don’t kiss her, but I want to. She must feel me, because she shifts against me, turning her head to the other side, gaining distance between my mouth and her body. I suck my top lip in and bite it hard.

The song breaks for a guitar solo, and I count the seconds, knowing that she’s going to slip away the moment everyone in here begins to clap. I won’t ask her to dance again. I won’t torture myself or push my luck. But I’ll remember this. As bad of an idea as it is, I’m glad I did it. So many painful memories woven into this place, I needed this one good one. It might just be the best memory I have out of everything in my life.

I feel her shift in my arms, and when I pull away slightly, Maddy’s chin pushes into the center of my chest, her eyes blinking slowly while she looks up at me. Two shots and a beer are about to talk to me right now. I smile softly and nod.