Lie (Betrothed 8)

I stared at her as I drank half the contents in a single swallow. The more I was around her, the more attractive she became. Initially, I found her unremarkable. But now, every time I saw her, she got sexier and sexier. It wasn’t just her looks, but her bold attitude. “You were beautiful the other night.”

Instead of firing off with a comeback, she actually took the compliment to heart. There was a slight softness to her, a calmness that came over her features. She blinked more often, let out a gentle breath rather than an annoyed sigh. “Thank you…” Her heart and soul were dedicated to ballet. She gave it her all every night, and even when she wasn’t dancing, she still personified a professional ballerina with her poise and elegance. It was clearly her passion, her drive, her reason to be alive. “I knew that was you.”

“I sat in the front row for a reason.”

“I was surprised you weren’t at my car later.”

“All I wanted was to see the show. Nothing more.” My arm rested on the table, and I focused on the woman in front of me. My eyes didn’t wander to the rest of the options in the room. Every time I walked into a bar, I quickly scanned the area to see who was worth my time. But now, I never looked because there was only one target that required my aim.

“And why are you here? I know it’s not a coincidence.”

I didn’t deny it. “Wanted to buy you a drink.”

“I can buy myself as many drinks as I want.”

I knew she didn’t make a high income as a dancer. Judging from her car and apartment, she didn’t have much, but she was so pretty I doubted she ever bought herself a single drink in her life. “You wanna buy me a drink, then?”

Her eyes turned back to me, surprised by what I’d said. “If I were trying to get you into bed, maybe.”

“I’m ready to go now if you are.”

She laughed off my comment as if it was absurd. “I can’t believe you’re still on that.”

“The heart wants what it wants.”

She laughed again. “You mean your dick wants what it wants.”

I shrugged. “Trying to be a gentleman about it.”

“You want to be a gentleman?” Both of her eyebrows rose. “Start by not throwing me in a cage.”

“No regrets. We wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t.”

She laughed again, this time darkly. “You know—”

I changed the subject before she could tell me off. “How long do you intend to keep dancing?” I knew dancers had an early retirement like athletes. Sometimes careers ended even sooner because of an injury. I hoped that never happened to her because she loved her work so much.

She answered my question, probably because this was a topic she was quite interested in. “Until I turn thirty.”

“That seems young to retire.”

She held her glass with her slender fingertips and took a sip. “It is. But I have to have my kids by then.”

So, she did want something serious. “I thought you said you just wanted to have fun.”

“I do, for the next five years. I’m not interested in a relationship. I’m not even trying to look for the right guy. I’m looking for all the wrong guys, actually.”

“Well, I’m the definition of a wrong guy.”

“Trust me, I know. And if you hadn’t crossed my brother, you would probably be another notch on my bedpost by now. But you made your choice, and that’s it.” She took another drink. “I’m just trying to enjoy my youth right now. My girlfriends get into relationships so young and not even with the right guy. I’ve never wanted to waste my time. I wanted to learn and grow. Have fun.” She watched my expression over her glass. “You can think I’m a slut all you want. I don’t care.”

“I don’t think that.”

“Sure…”

“I just think it’s unfair that I can’t enjoy you. Being with me isn’t a betrayal. You would use me just as I would use you. I would be nothing to you. It’s not like you love me. It’s not like you even care about me. It means nothing. So, what’s the harm?”

She considered my words for a long time, holding her glass close to her face. Her eyes slightly shifted back and forth, and she eventually lowered the glass and straightened. Seemed like my words actually got to her, impacted her. Maybe she realized she was overthinking everything, that we didn’t have to mean anything. “I told you my answer wouldn’t change.” She finished the rest of her glass before she set it down. “Let it go, Heath.” Her voice wasn’t full of fire, and her eyes weren’t full of attitude. She was actually somber, like she hated giving that answer. “Goodbye.” She turned away.