* * *
"Anything but the club," Lowell whined, dragging her heels. "I don't even know what to do in a club. I don't dance, I shouldn't be drinking hard liquor, and you and I don't know anybody."
"Even better," I said, pulling her toward the velvet rope. "C'mon. They're watching us, you know." I looked up at the handful of photographers who'd followed us. "We're taking one for the team."
"The team freaking owes me by this point." Lowell sounded weary, but she had her game face on, beaming at all the other club-goers and the photographers.
The club was packed, but the hostess magically produced a table for us anyway.
"I can only do this for fifteen minutes," Lo said, looking at all the undulating bodies on the dance floor and the beautiful people dancing on tables. "This is silly."
"Do you think the photographers can get in here?" I asked, looking around.
She wrinkled her nose. "No. Gigi said the shots of us coming and going were the most important. Since they already have one of us coming, do you think we can get that 'going' picture now?"
"We don't have to stay long. But any one of these people could take our picture." I motioned with my chin to the crowd around us. "So… do you wanna dance? Just once?" I already knew the answer.
"Absolutely not. I already told you that."
I put my hand on her wrist and pulled her up. "Just once."
She looked at me miserably. "I can't dance to this type of music."
I dragged her onto the crowded dance floor and carved out a small space for us. "You don't have to do anything. Just follow my lead."
I wrapped my arms around her, swayed in time to the throbbing hip-hop beat, and moved her with me. She moved easily and elegantly.
"See?" I asked, leaning down. "You don't give yourself enough credit."
She frowned and shook her head, looking embarrassed.
I wrapped my body around hers, protecting her and moving her more urgently to the music. Heat radiated through me as I felt her body against mine. I pulled her tighter against me, where I'd been aching to have her. My body notched against hers, and she pressed back against me. Lowell's body was saying one thing, but when she looked up at me, her face looked guilty. I knew her head was saying something else entirely.
I ran my thumb across her bottom lip, stroking it. Her eyes met mine, and I leaned down and kissed her slowly.
She pulled back almost immediately. "Kyle, stop."
A yearning grew so fierce inside me that it was almost scary. But I took a deep breath and pushed the heavy feeling away. "Okay, boss." Trying to make light of it, I smiled and pulled her back to me. "But at least dance with me for the rest of the song."
She frowned, then she rested her head on my chest. I ran my hands over her, guiding her to the music and wishing desperately that she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
It was honestly the first time in my life I'd ever felt this way—unsure.
* * *
We smiled for the cameras and didn't say a word on our way home.
Later, back on her couch, I looked at the latest pictures of us together and tried to forget what it had felt like to have her body pressed against mine.
"We look so good together," I said, slurring from all the champagne I'd drank at the club after she rebuffed me.
Lowell leaned over me and looked at the pictures. "I know. It's ironic, isn't it?"
"Why's that?" I asked, facing her.
"Because we're pretending. And because we couldn't ever actually be together." She sounded as though she was forcing her voice to sound neutral and matter-of-fact. But her eyes were searching mine, as if she wondered if I agreed.
"Why not?" I asked, sitting up. I was suddenly alert, the slurring erased from my speech.