Page 35 of If Ever

"Okay," I say. "Sure you don't have some weird thing for women's feet?"

Tom laughs. "Aren't you a fan of the healing arts?"

"I don't know. I've never experienced them before."

"Well, unless you pull your ankle away and slap me for being fresh, you're soon to find out."

I hold back a giggle.

"So what's your day like tomorrow?" he asks, as if it's perfectly normal for him to hold my ankle in his hands.

I struggle to concentrate with his hands on my bare skin. "It's a light day, sort of. There's hair and makeup, lunch, then dress rehearsal. The pros do most of the dances on results days. Oh, one team does the encore performance."

"Maybe it'll be you and Dominic."

"No. It's based on popular vote and even though we had a great night, I'm the least popular person on the show." Tom listens attentively, still holding my ankle.

"Then it's show time, and I get to stand under the microscope as we're slowly fed the results like a poisonous IV drip."

"Oh, no!" He lifts his hands from my leg.

"What?"

"I didn't vote for you." He lays his hands back down, this time his thumb makes slow circle on my tender skin.

"You were going to vote?" A zing of happiness shoots through me.

"Of course. What will I do with my Monday nights if you're not on the show?"

"The probability of us getting through is always low."

"You guys got perfect tens. No one else has done that yet this season." He gently squeezes my ankle and releases me. "How's it feel?"

I flex and rotate my foot then slip back into my shoe. "Good. Better."

"Glad to hear it." He checks his phone. "Oh, buggar."

"What?"

"It's almost 3 a.m."

"No way!" I reach for my bag. "I never stay out this late."

Tom stands and drops money on the table. "What time is your call?"

"Not till ten, thank God. What time is your flight?"

"I leave for the airport at seven thirty."

I cringe. "That's a bummer."

Tom leads us out of our private alcove. The bar is quiet with only a few people lingering. No one from the show remains. "I am so sorry," he says.

"It's not your fault. I should have kept better track of time." Except that I was having the best time ever.

Outside the air is cool. "I'll get us an Uber." When he's finished, he says, "It’ll be ten minutes."

It gives me a few more minutes with him before having to say goodbye. By the time ten minutes pass, I'm chilled to the bone even though my shoulder is pressed close to Tom's. My short-sleeve top is no protection against the October breeze. I shiver and he pulls me in front of him, wrapping his arms around me, his body tucked against mine.

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