Page 47 of Bombshells
As we joke around, I watch Sylvie take a deep breath. Then she straightens her spine and lifts her head, replacing her defeated posture with her game face.
“The second thing is, who wants to dance?” I hold out a hand to Sylvie, and then I have to shout because the band has just begun playing a Chubby Checker classic. “Can you do the twist?”
“How hard could it be?” she asks, grasping my hand like a lifeline. “Let’s twist.”
“Fiona?” I ask, not to be exclusive.
“You two go ahead,” she says with a bright smile. “I’m going to mingle.”
I lead Sylvie onto the dance floor, and start to move my hips. Dancing is one of my specialties, although many athletes are excellent dancers. Sylvie is no exception. She knows how to move. The twist is a somewhat silly dance, and I’m a somewhat silly man, so I twist with enthusiasm.
It isn’t long until she’s smiling, and the color is back in her cheeks.
Sylvie could bring a man to his knees. My crush on her was already a rager, but tonight it’s an inferno. The black dress she’s wearing is made of soft, touchable fabric. And the way it’s cut, showing off her smooth shoulders, and her long, kissable neck…
Unngh.
And don’t even get me started on her legs. In those heels, they look long enough to wrap around me twice. And I’m the lucky guy who’s dancing with her.
How could a man say no to her? It boggles the mind.
When the song ends, and the band moves into a slow song, I don’t even think, I just pull her a little closer and put an arm around her waist.
She looks at me with those big brown eyes. I’ve got a couple inches on Sylvie, but she’s wearing killer heels. We’re nearly nose to nose, and I take a long breath of her perfume and feel several inconvenient emotions at once.
“Thank you,” she breathes.
“For what?”
Her eyes soften. “For asking me to dance when I got shot down.”
“Like it’s a hardship,” I whisper. “I am not the kind of guy who criticizes his friends. But I will say that I just don’t understand some people.”
Her eyes dart to the side. “I’m mad at myself for caring. Did you ever carry a habit too long in your game?”
“My game.” I blink. “You mean hockey?”
“Yes, hockey.” Her eyes flash with humor. “Follow along, Bayer.”
I grin, because this girl kills me. “You mean, like, hesitating on the pass?”
“Exactly,” she says, patting the lapel of my tux. “You realize the hesitation is wrong, and you know you need to fix it. But you’ve been doing it so long that it’s hard to stop.”
“Sure? Of course. All the time.”
“That’s me and Bryce. I thought we would end up together. And I do love him. This has been a difficult year for me, though. So even when it began to be clear that he doesn’t feel the same, I still held onto it. I pictured our future together. It got me through some difficult things.”
“I see.”
“It’s a habit now. I even tried making him jealous. I went on dates with men that were not interesting to me.” She rolls her eyes. “But in the back of my mind, I was still stuck on him. And—” She frowns.
“What?” I ask, turning her in a slow circle. Dancing with her is the best thing that’s happened to me all week, even if she is talking about another man.
“This will sound crazy. But my mother thought we would be a couple.”
“She did?”
Sylvie nods. “Yes. And that made me hold on against reason, non?” A bit of French creeps into her accent when she talks about her mother. “It’s hard to let go of the past.”
