The Best Friend Zone

It was either give in to raw fantasies and bring myself off…or tiptoe to his room and jump him.

And we know I’m not brave enough for that.

I also haven’t been able to decipher his signals—if they’re actually signals at all and not just wishful thinking.

No, he hasn’t kissed me again.

Not since that day Drake showed up. Mainly because he’s been working on the barn nonstop, rigging up everything just for me.

He rented a huge sander for the floors, then coated them with varnish that shines so bright I can practically see my reflection. He also hung new lights, big ones, so I can be out here long after dark if I want.

Then, today, after the big brown truck dropped off my mirror panels, aerial silks, and sound system, he instantly went to work installing everything.

The space has transformed into a proper dance studio.

An amazing one.

“I’ll never doubt it again. Dreams can come true,” I say, watching him secure one of the speakers up in the rafters.

He shoves a screwdriver in his back pocket, then turns around on the ladder, looking around at the space. “It does look pretty awesome.”

“Pretty?” I shake my head. “It’s totally awesome!”

Kicking off my shoes, I drop the ballet slippers I’ve been holding onto the floor. “I can’t wait any longer. I have to try out this floor.”

I’ve been itching to break it in ever since I watched him varnishing it.

Moving to the center of the floor, I position myself in front of the mirrors, bend, rise up, and glide left, loving how wonderfully the smooth floor helps me flow so free and easy.

I dart around, complete a tight turn, and then glide back to the center, where I do a full pirouette, spinning, rising to a full pointe on my toes.

Arms over my head, one hand up, I whirl on the ends of my toes, until my momentum slows.

I bend at the waist, spread my arms wide, and lift one foot, revolving on the other until coming to a stop.

Unexpected applause echoes off the high ceiling and solid walls.

Blinking, I twist around to face him and bow, a smile tucked between my reddened cheeks.

“Thank you, kind sir.”

“I’m fucking speechless.” He walks closer, off the ladder now. “That was glorious, Peach. But aren’t you dizzy after that?”

“Nope. I’m used to it.” I tap my temple. “My brain adjusted years ago. I can’t even remember the last time spinning made me dizzy.”

He glances at my feet. “And your toes? They don’t hurt, either?”

“No way.” I press both hands to my chest and flutter my lashes. “They feel like heaven.”

“What about your knee?”

He’s too sweet.

His concern is too real for me to laugh at, but it does make me smile.

“The knee’s just dandy.” A sigh full of happiness escapes. “I can’t wait until tomorrow morning, when I can try out the silks.”

“Why do you have to wait till tomorrow?”

“Because it’s almost time for supper. I have barbecue ribs in the slow cooker, and you must be starving after all the work you’ve done this afternoon.”

“We’ll eat later. Go ahead and give it a whirl.”

Excitement fills me. I bounce a couple times on my toes.

“You’re sure you don’t mind? I won’t take long, I promise. The ribs should be fine for a little while longer.”

He grabs my hand.

“One question first. If your ma made all your meals, how do you know how to cook like a boss?”

“You think I cook…well?”

“Very well.” He tilts his face down, bathing me in a gaze that leaves zero doubt he’s serious.

Oh, wow.

Just when I think he’s out of ways to charm me…

“From Granny mostly. She drafted me to help her every summer here. But I picked up a few things from Mother, too, in all fairness…”

“Let me guess—the eggplant parm?”

I give him a wink and run to the colorful ribbons hanging off the last beam.

Leaping as I reach it, I twine the silk around one leg and climb, finding my balance and inching my body upward.

Silks, like dancing, are kinda like riding a bike. Once you learn, you never forget.

In minutes, I’m in the midst of a full routine of wraps, swings, and spirals, loving the freedom that comes with gliding through the air on makeshift tethers.

By the time I finish the routine a second time, my muscles burn, proving just how out of shape I’ve become since leaving Chicago. Not wanting to overdo it the first time, I flip my way down the silks, shimmying carefully.

Quinn’s big, firm hands grasp my waist before my feet touch the floor.

Next thing I know, he’s twisting me around, pulling me against him.

“Good job scaring the hell out of me, Tory,” he growls, his arms locking around my hips. “You were all the way at the top. Nothing there to hold you up except that flimsy material wrapped around one ankle. Be careful.”