No sense at all.
Unless she’s my goddamn soul mate, and I’m not sure I believe in that shit.
Something is keeping me up at night, staring at the ceiling thinking about her. Us. Something feels…off. Every sense in my body is telling me I have to get ahold of her.
It made sense that I connected with True Wallace considering I like her brother so damn much.
“Tell me a secret no one else knows,” she whispers to me, our second drinks in our hands.
“I don’t have any secrets that no one else knows, and if I did, I wouldn’t be telling them to you.” We’ve only just met.
“Aww, don’t be a spoilsport.”
I think for a minute, digging deep into my treasure trove of memories, searching for a nugget to give her.
“Okay, let’s see…when I was in college, I took Spanish as an easy way to ace a class and boost my grade point average.”
Her mouth falls open. “Didn’t you have to take a foreign language in high school?”
“Yeah, as a prereq for college we needed two years of a foreign language, and I took French but was so bad at it I barely passed. So in college, I took Spanish.”
“Why is that a secret?”
“Because I didn’t tell my folks. They would have killed me.”
True is laughing at me now, eyes twinkling. “That’s a pretty good one. I never would have thought of doing that.”
“Four years of Spanish, and I used to drive the professors nuts. Some weren’t Hispanic, so every so often I had to raise my hand to correct them.”
“God, I would hate that!”
“Oh they definitely hated it. Un grano en el culo—pain in the butt, they called me.”
True takes a sip from her new glass. “Some things never change.”
I put a hand to my heart. “You’re hurting my heart,” I tease, and she bursts out laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“My mom always says ‘You’re hurting my heart.’ We tease her about it all the time—she makes us sound like the world’s worst children.”
“So what you’re telling me is that Buzz isn’t the world’s worst child?”
We both move our gazes to the dance floor, where Buzz and his new wife Hollis are moving slowly, guests joining them, swaying gently, the disco ball throwing sparkles around the room like confetti.
I clear my throat and set down my glass. “Care to dance?”
True looks bashful, licking her lips and dipping her head. “It’s been a long time—since prom, probably. I might suck at it.”
My chin goes up arrogantly. “No worries—I’m good enough for the both of us. I had to take ballroom dance classes growing up.”
I sweep True out onto the dance floor, her blush-colored bridesmaid dress kicking up around her ankles, flowing behind her like a modern-day Ginger Rogers.
She looks gorgeous and smells amazing, and I want to see her smile at me, want her to laugh at my jokes.
Her brother doesn’t notice us dancing on the outskirts of the dance floor, occupied with his pretty new wife, crowd filling the hardwood parquet, energy in the air electrifying. Or maybe it feels like it’s crackling because True’s hand is in mine and my hand is on her waist and our bodies are almost pressed together.
The melody is a ballad—some cheesy love song about best friends to lovers and dirt road anthems and memories—so romantic it’s becoming difficult to meet her eyes.
Her smile looks nervous.
Mine feels fake.
“Are you going to tell me what your secret is?”
True’s face changes, lights up now that we have a topic to discuss, awkward silence between us gone. “Hmm,” she hums. “What’s a secret I’ve never told anyone…”
I catch Summer Bellefonte’s quizzical gaze over the top of her head and pray like hell she doesn’t send her photographer over. The last thing I need is proof in print that I was chatting up Buzz Wallace’s sister. Whatever my intentions are, I’d like to keep my personal life private; my dating life in the beginning stages is not for public consumption.
Me dating a Wallace?
SportsCenter would have a field day with this one, and I feel Summer’s calculating gaze watching every step we take.
“Do you solemnly swear not to reveal my secret to anyone, including my brother Buzz, as long as we both shall live, so help you God?” It sounds like a passage from a court deposition, and I’m here for this.
“I swear.” Using the hand I have on her waist, I raise it with three fingers up, à la the Boy Scout hand sign.
“Okay, well…” True moves in closer. Conspiratorial. “My brothers don’t know this, but…my first kiss was with this guy on Buzz’s baseball team in high school, Marshall. He used to come to the house all the time after practice and hang around the kitchen, and one day I realized he wasn’t just coming over to see my brother—he was coming to see me.”