Page 62 of Again, In Autumn

Diego says absently, “Let us finish our drinks.”

I didn’t think he was paying attention. Not that I know what I’m paying attention to.

“I’m getting to my point.” Maggie licks her lips.

Adam growls, “I know your point. But I’d rather keep this conversation a little dull.”

“No, no, it’s time to have it out,” she insists. “Before it’s too late.”

“Maggie,” Diego warns. “He doesn’t want you to.”

Maggie begins to sway. “See, Vienna, the thing is –”

“Dance with me,” Adam interrupts.

I look to my right side. He stands there, his hand stretched toward me, his eyes squarely on my face. My shocked, confused face. I go between he and Maggie, not sure what just happened, what is happening right now, and if my legs have any feeling to them.

With a tight jaw, Adam begs, “Please. Please dance with me, please. Right now.”

I check Maggie and Diego’s interested faces and whisper, “Or what’s going to happen?”

“The world will implode.” He stretches his fingers emphatically.

Brain says, bad idea.

Gooey insides say, I wonder where he will put his hands.

I exhale and place my hand in his.

Adam deftly pulls my chair from underneath me, spins me around to his other side and pushes in the chair back hard enough for the table to shake. Some kind of message for his sister. He doesn’t say anything or look what me while I’m led through the tables and onto the hardwood dance floor. My heels clack once and then they’re quiet.

Adam stands opposite me, a foot’s distance between us. He bites his lip, stalled, a pained expression on his face. He stares at the ground. Then, suddenly, his hand is in front of me, as it was five seconds ago, and he’s asking again. It just took him longer this time to decide if he wanted to go through with this.

It shouldn’t matter if I do. We’re neighbors and strangers, nothing resembling friends. He’s been dancing with Kate all night, had his arm slung on the back of her chair and laughed at her stories. He thinks I’m boring and clumsy. He probably doesn’t remember an ounce of how he made me feel that summer.

So, I take his hand. We cross the space between us, and I hook my arm on the outside of his right shoulder. When he touches my waist, I flinch.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, it’s…” I force a polite smile.

We look everywhere but at each other. The song shifts from slow to slower and a lump begins to grow in my throat.

His hand feels stronger and more calloused than I remember. The ridges of his shoulder blade more pronounced. His spine straightens as my thumb slips when it would have relaxed years ago.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

“For what?”

He looks over the top of my head. “Getting me away from that table.”

“Maggie doesn’t seem happy about it.”

He turns his neck. “She’ll be fine at home. The box brownies were buy one, get one free. She baked some weed in the second batch.”

“Oh. I’ll come by later.”

“Better be quick.”

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