Page 22 of When Hairy Met Stella

Dabbing her mouth with the cloth napkin, she sat back from the table with a content sigh. “That was delicious. I can’t believe we made such short work of that platter.”

He chuckled when her eyes zeroed in on the plate, which once overflowed with fried pockets stuffed with potato and cheese. “What? You said yourself I was starting to get hangry.”

He grinned as he looked at her. To the outside world, they probably did look like a real couple. Running his finger along the edge of his napkin gave his hands something to do instead of reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. A real boyfriend would have done that. But he couldn’t. He’d already touched her way too much tonight, what with the way their chairs were practically on top of one another.

If circumstances were different, Stella would have been someone he definitely would have pursued. Someone whose hair he’d push back so he could see more of her face, gain greater access to her kissable neck. Someone he’d worship with his lips—and not because they were putting on a show. Someone he could have really seen himself with.

But he could settle for this, as long as he remembered his well-established boundaries, even though they’d boinked right out of his head moments ago. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

The music, which he hadn’t paid any mind for the entirety of their meal, slowed as the people on the floor paired off.

“They’re actually pretty good.” She nodded toward the end of the room, where a string quartet sat atop a slightly raised stage.

Nate looked at the sign hung behind them. “The Dashing Pumpkins?”

She nodded. “They’re playing at Lucy and Eric’s wedding ceremony.”

The two of them sat back in their chairs, listening to the middle-aged men in orange bowties play popular rock ballads on their stringed instruments. He was surprised how much he enjoyed it.

“Do you think we should dance?” Her voice was soft, slightly trembling as her rounded eyes peered through long lashes.

That pep talk he’d just had with himself? It flittered off like autumn leaves in the wind, especially when The DashingPumpkins played the opening chords to “The Only Exception” by Paramore. And when she looked at him like that, her doe eyes as big and round as he’d ever seen them, there was no way he could say no to her. She had to know that, right? And yet, when she ducked her chin to her chest and held her elbows tight to her side, he knew he would have given her the world if she’d asked.

“Stella,” he whispered just loud enough to be heard over the soft ballad filling the restaurant. His shaking hand came up to her chin, bringing her face to meet his. He was just about to speak when her lips parted, her tongue wetting the pillowy softness he was suddenly hungry for. “I’d love that—to dance with you.”

They sat there for a beat, then two more, neither moving, save for the rise and fall of their chests. What was happening? Well, nothing…nothing at all. But it felt like everything to Nathan, and that meant he had to put an end to…whatever this was.

Rising from his chair, he extended a hand, and a bolt of something shot up his arm at her touch. When her breath hitched at the same time, he wondered if she’d felt it too. It was probably just static electricity or something. She was wearing a sweater, after all. And the air was dry. Probably.

This feeling wasn’t some great feat of romance. It was science. Nothing more. Also, the reason his heart pounded in his chest at her nearness—biology. He remembered his grade school chemistry teacher saying how science was all around them. Boy, was she right about that.

“This good?” Stella asked as she stopped on the dance floor, dropping his hand and turning to him. Was what good, exactly? The soft, romantic stylings of The Dashing Pumpkins? This setting, with artfully strung lights stretching from each end of the room? The way she looked tonight, wearing clothes thatsubtly called out every curve of her body? It was all good.Verygood.

And once his mind stopped rattling off all the things about this night that he’d want to commit to his memory so he could relive them once this was all over, he finally caught on that she was asking if this spot was good for them to dance. He quickly realized he’d dance with her anywhere she’d ask him to.

“Yep,” he answered as his eyes roamed the dance floor. He wasn’t a junior-high boy asking the prettiest girl in the gymnasium to dance for the first time, but his hands hadn’t gotten the memo. They trembled slightly as he stood with them at his front, clutching them like he was posing for a photograph.

This was ridiculous—she’d already agreed to dance with him. In fact,she’daskedhim. That reassurance did little to stop his palms from sweating. And not just his hands. As he moved closer, he said a silent prayer that the “extra-strength” part of his extra-strength deodorant held up its end of the deal.

The sleek black leather of her boot now touched the rounded toe of his as she reached up and put both arms around his neck. There was something he was supposed to do next, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what.

“You don’t have to be afraid to touch me,” she said with a chuckle, and he’d remembered what his part was in all this. Though, afraid wasn’t the right word. More like terrified. He was terrified to touch her, but probably not for the reason she thought.

“I was just…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence, so he proceeded to robotically move his arms to her waist. But as soon as his palms met her soft knit sweater, his arms took over, wrapping themselves around her waist and pulling her a little closer. “To sell the act,” he said as she peered up at him. “We’re supposed to look like a couple, right?”

“Well, in that case…” she trailed off as she closed the gap between them, resting her head on his chest. As they swayed to the song, wafts of her vanilla scent flooded his senses, and he breathed in the comforting scent.

They stayed like that for a moment—not long enough, if you asked him. When she leaned back to look at him, he noticed a drip of barbecue sauce at the corner of her mouth.

“You’ve got a little…”

He once again broke his no-touching rule and cupped her chin with a featherlight touch, still unsure he should be doing this. Even less sure that looking this deeply into her eyes was a good idea. But here he was.

His thumb was just about to brush the fleck of sauce from her porcelain skin when he got the feeling someone was watching him.

But it wasn’tsomeone.It was severalsomeones.

“Everyone is staring at us,” he stage-whispered to Stella, his hand still touching her face for reasons he couldn’t articulate at the moment.

---