Listen to Your Heart(15)

“And it was awesome, so let me thank you by loading the dishwasher.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And a little adorable?”

“More than a little.”

Her confession makes me smile.

“Did I say that out loud?” she whispers.

“You did.”

“Totally didn’t mean to.”

“Totally love that you did.”

“Can you forget that I said it?”

“Not a chance.”

Reaching for her free hand, I pull her closer until our bodies are just barely touching. Skye gasps quietly . . . so quietly I wonder if it’s my own gasp instead of hers.

My skin tingles.

My heart pounds.

Our eyes lock.

For a brief, crazy moment, I think about kissing her. Right here, in the middle of her kitchen. Just wrapping her in my arms and doing what I’ve wanted to do since the moment we met.

But we’re standing in her kitchen. And she’s holding garlic bread.

“I think you’re adorable, too. More than adorable. I don’t know that much about you, but I already think you’re the coolest and the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met in my entire life. I’m so thankful that you were at The Boombox last night, and I can’t believe you invited me over for dinner. I’m feeling grateful for a lot of things tonight, so please take our wine and go to the living room. I’ll meet you there in exactly ten minutes, because there’s nowhere on this planet I’d rather be than on that couch and watching that movie. With you.”

It’s not the most eloquent of heartfelt speeches, but it’s honest. Skye blinks slowly before carefully placing the basket of bread on the table. She takes the wine and our glasses and heads toward the living room. Before she steps out of the kitchen, she stops and turns around.

“Ten minutes. I’m timing you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her answering smile does crazy things to my soul. I’m falling too hard, too fast, and I don’t know how to stop.

What’s even worse?

I don’t want to stop.



Skye might have said she was just kidding about making me watch Dirty Dancing, but that didn’t stop her from having the DVD ready to go when I made it into the living room.

Ten minutes later—as promised.

We’re on her comfy couch, snuggled under a blanket that smells like lavender. The room’s dark, except for the light of the television screen and the rays of setting sun that flicker through the curtains. Skye’s snuggled up against me and sliding her fingers along mine in a slow, lazy pattern that’s driving me insane and making it impossible to concentrate on the movie.

“Okay, next trivia question,” she says.

“I’m ready.”

“You sure? I mean, you’ve missed them all so far.”

“That’s because you’re a freak with a head full of useless information about a movie I know nothing about.”

She grins proudly. Since the opening credits, Skye’s tried to stump me with random trivia, and she’s been pretty successful since I know basically nothing about the movie except for the iconic scenes that have been burned into my brain thanks to cable television.

She nods toward the TV. “Okay, see that gorgeous blonde?”

“Johnny’s dance partner?”

“Her name’s Penny.”

“Like on The Big Bang Theory?”

“Focus, Caleb.”

It’s cute, how completely pissed she gets when I don’t take this seriously.

“Sorry. Penny. What about her?”

“Her real name is Cynthia Rhodes. She used to be married to a singer-songwriter who released his biggest hits in the late 80s and 90s and wrote a bunch of songs for a bunch of people. Name him.”

What’s really sad is that I know this one. I don’t know how I know it—and I wouldn’t admit it to my friends—but I actually know this one. People can say what they want about his sappy love ballads, but Richard Marx is a kickass musician who taught himself how to play piano and wrote most, if not all, of his own songs. That’s always been my dream—to write, produce, and perform my own music and make a living at it. So Richard Marx is just one in a long list of musical heroes of mine, simply because he made his musical dreams a reality. Obviously, I didn’t realize that Richard Marx used to be married to Johnny Castle’s dance partner, but I actually know the answer to this one, and I’m psyched that I know it, because that means maybe I can finally impress this beautiful woman who is obsessed with this movie on a level that’s far from healthy.

But that same beautiful woman’s snuggled up with me, looking all smug that she’s going to once again stump me with her movie knowledge. And every time she does, her smile lights up the room.

I want to see that smile again, so I lie.

“I have no idea, Skye.”

“Richard Marx. He sang Right Here Waiting and—”

I chuckle. “I know who Richard Marx is.”

Skye laughs and melts deeper into my arms.

Some lies are worth it.

Some.

Not all.

I block that depressing thought and wrap my arms around her. It’s been a long time since I cuddled, and I’m surprised to find how much I love it and how right it feels. By the time Johnny and Baby start dancing to I’ve Had the Time of My Life, Skye’s head is on my chest and my nose is buried in her hair. It’s simple and innocent and amazing, and I never want it to end.