No, that had been because he suffered from a lack of confidence, a severe case of the waffles, plus myriad other issues. But this was one of the times when he didn’t want to think about the consequences of his brokenness. “I told you. I thought we’d be a good team. Why do something by yourself when you can do it with someone else?”
She nodded. “That’s true. I’ve never thought about it like that.”
“That’s because you’ve never been a part of a cohesive unit like I have,” he said automatically. Except he wasn’t anymore and that was a hook through the gut he could have avoided if he hadn’t been distracted by Aria.
“Yeah.” Her voice grew wistful again and her thumb moved against his shirt in a little circle that heated instantly. “It’s hard to come by here. But it sounds wonderful. What was the best part about it?”
“Having a niche,” he said. “A place that was mine.”
Which wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all, not to her. It was too personal. Revealed too much.
But it was pure truth. The camaraderie, the guys having his back, working as a highly trained team—that was all great. But he’d liked knowing there was a unique spot that only he could fill. His job had been to keep the team unified and he’d lost his way.
“I can see why you’d like that.”
He swallowed. “It was hard to lose. Really hard. I’m still not sure where my place is now.”
A part of him felt as if the announcement should have come out with a little more fanfare. A drumroll. Something to mark the occasion of owning the damage that Syria had done to him way down deep inside, where he couldn’t touch it. There was nowhere to hide and no way to paint that picture with any less bleak colors.
Aria just nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry. But that’s what’s great about the fact that you’ve come here. You can find a new niche.”
Which sounded remarkably like what he suspected Hardy had been trying to help him realize. The problem was that Isaiah could see that very clearly. What he couldn’t see was how to reverse the fact that leaving was what he knew best. What he deserved. There were too many dominoes stacked up, ready to usher him across the town lines as he left for the last time.
“Maybe,” he said noncommittally.
The song ended and they both stopped moving at the same time. He should step away. She should step away. There was entirely too much unsaid swirling beneath the surface of what should have been a simple dance lesson. But neither of them moved and the longer they didn’t, the tighter the tension bound them together.
“This was nice, thank you,” she said, her voice low as she peered up at him through her lashes.
“You say that like it was some horrible favor I had to endure,” he countered gruffly, and tightened his arms at her waist, completely determined not to let her go. “I like dancing with you.”
“Then that’s the best kind of favor, when you don’t mind it.” She leaned in without warning and brushed his cheek with her lips in what she might have considered a thank-you kiss or some nonsense.
Before she could draw back, he caught her jaw with his thumb, threading his fingers through her hair to hold her in place mere inches away. She stared at him. His flesh burned where she’d brushed it. It would take no effort at all to lean into the gap and connect in a real kiss.
He shouldn’t. But in that moment, he couldn’t remember why. This was every bit the spiritual connection Serenity had predicted, the one he’d tried to avoid, tried to ignore. Tried to pretend it was someone else he’d had to watch out for, when it had been Aria all along. Now that he had it, he didn’t want to deny himself a single second.
But before he could instruct his muscles to move, she broke away, stumbling backward to put a huge gap between them. She stuttered out some words and then fled, leaving Isaiah on the roof alone.
Twelve
In the morning, Aria blearily rolled from bed. Guess this would be one of those days where she tested how well a person could function on three hours of fitful sleep.
When she’d summoned up the will to walk away from what would have been her second kiss ever—and the first one didn’t count because she’d been nine and had finally caught the slowest of the Moon boys—she’d thought that would be the hardest thing she’d do in her life. Turned out that lying awake wondering what it would have been like to kiss Isaiah had been much more difficult.
Especially when her thoughts drifted past kissing to some other activities that might happen on a secluded rooftop that no one knew existed. Things she’d never done before but could certainly picture. Sort of. Which meant she’d had to spend a lot of time thinking about how it would all work between them. All that imagining had made her hot and sensitive in places that had no business being sensitive over that particular man. Tristan? Fine. Zak Efron? Sure.
Not Isaiah. There were so many reasons she had to nip this craziness in the bud that she couldn’t even see over the pile,
not the least of which was the fact that Cassidy was her friend. Who had called first dibs on Isaiah a long time ago. She had been ignoring him at the movies like he’d thought, which meant Aria needed to have a really long talk with Cassidy about how you let a man know you were interested in him.
And then she would have that talk with herself. Twice. She needed to move the dial with Tristan if for no other reason than to give her a good excuse to never be alone with Isaiah again. The huge black sadness that crowded into her heart at the thought would fade. In time. And hey, it hurt a lot less than putting all your faith in someone who had one foot out of the door.
Everyone did. That was the whole reason Caleb and Havana were working sixteen hours a day to get the town renovated into a new-age mecca for people who were looking for the next quirky destination after Austin. If the town had good things that people wanted to stay for, they would. Aria wasn’t one of them. History didn’t lie.
That was why she’d become so determined to chase Tristan. It might sting a little if he rejected her but she’d go on like always. No harm, no foul. The fact that she didn’t want Tristan didn’t matter overly much. It was what he represented that she needed, not the least of which was a shield against Isaiah, but also to prove something to herself.
As she pulled a brush through her hair, she frowned at her reflection. If that was true, then there was no time like the present. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Imagine how her sisters would admire her for landing a man like that. Maybe they’d rethink their opinions about their little sister then, huh?