Page 60 of My Killer Blind Date

Liam spins me and I spin back, breathless.

‘You’re not bad, either,’ I say with a laugh.

‘I also took lessons as a kid.’

‘No way.’

‘I guess we were both preparing for this moment, huh?’ He’s grinning. Our hips sway together.

Suddenly, I step on his foot.

‘Whoops – sorry—’

His lips lift in a half smile. ‘You’re trying to lead.’

‘Bad habit.’ It was my greatest weakness, according to Miss Nieves, my old dance instructor.

‘Let me lead.’ His breath feathers across my cheeks as he leans close. ‘Trust me.’

‘OK.’

Then, our eyes lock, and we just dance. No words, just bodies moving, breaths in sync.

The music is loud, the rhythm beating in my skin like my body is the drum. I haven’t danced in years – not counting my drunk stumbling with Liam at the bar during our first date – but I remember these feelings. How, when I’m dancing, it’s almost impossible to feel sad. Like sorrow can’t coexist with the vibrations rumbling through my bones and the energy of the step-step. I used to feel this way when Zoe and I went out in our late teens and early twenties, until I started begging off. Now I wish I’d never stopped.

Suddenly, my hips are locked with Liam’s. Holding his gaze is like a drug, and the intensity of his attention washes through me in waves as we sway back and forth in step. Fast-fast-slow, fast-fast-slow … I do want to trust him. But I don’t want to be stupid. I know how women are portrayed in the media. Either completely blind to the red flags waving in front of them, or obsessive and spiraling into conspiracy theories. What’s the middle road?

I look into Liam’s eyes. Who are you? I try to send. His gaze never falters, his control is perfect, and suddenly there’s a burst of lust exploding in my core and all I want is to drag my tongue up his neck like I did last night and feel the beat of his pulse against my tongue.

Outside, the rain is pouring down. Moisture is dripping down my back, and I can’t tell if it’s rainwater or sweat. Michael Bublé’s Sway starts playing and suddenly the lights turn down, a rotating disco ball casting purple and blue lights all around us.

‘Free dance for this one, everyone do your thing,’ cries the instructor, mopping his brow and stepping aside.

A few couples leave the dance floor for the water cooler.

‘Should we take a break?’ I murmur, even though that’s the last thing I want to do.

Liam’s grip on me just tightens.

My hand trails down Liam’s shoulder to his chest. His shirt is damp. I don’t want to stop.

He spins me out, then draws me back in, closer than before. Then, he’s dipping his face down, and he’s nudging my lips open, gently sinking his lips into mine.

I tilt my head back and let him.

*

The second I get home and lock the door behind me, I collapse on to the couch.

Something happened between Liam and me on the dance floor. I can’t call it trust. Or maybe I’m just not ready to. All I know is, there’s been a shift, and it’s not a lizard brain thing. It’s deeper. Less reactionary. More intuitive.

I glance at my phone. It’s just after nine p.m. – plenty of time for my usual routine. For some reason, though, I can’t fathom eating another lasagna, even if it was the last food available in the entire world. Pulling up a food delivery app, I place a spontaneous order for some Tikka Masala from my favorite Indian place. While I wait for my food, I change into PJ’s and fuzzy socks and settle down with my laptop. But instead of opening Reddit, I type into the browser, How to get a small business loan.

I’m not saying I’m giving up on Zoe tonight. But maybe I could be allowed to spend a few hours thinking about my future instead of the past.

After all, Reddit will still be there tomorrow.

Chapter Twenty