Page 87 of Three Pucking Wedding Dates

I take Oakley’s hand, feeling the warmth of her touch as we assume our waltz positions. She looks up at me with a determined glint in her eyes.

“Alright, let’s do this,” she says, trying to sound confident despite the uncertainty in her voice.

As the music begins, we attempt to glide across the floor, but it quickly becomes apparent that neither of us are natural-born dancers. Oakley stumbles over my feet more than once, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment each time.

“Sorry,” she mutters, avoiding my gaze. “I’ve always been more of a wallflower than a ballroom dancer.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” I reassure her, gently squeezing her hand. “We’re here to learn, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, taking a deep breath and refocusing her efforts.

But despite her determination, Oakley continues to struggle with the steps, her movements stiff and uncoordinated. I can see her frustration building, and I wish there was something I could do to help.

“Mr. Archer,” the instructor calls out suddenly, causing us to halt mid-step. “Your footwork is quite impressive!”

“Thank you,” I reply, somewhat surprised by her praise. I hadn’t thought I was doing anything particularly noteworthy.

“Would you mind partnering with Miss Ally for a demonstration? She seems to be struggling with the timing, and I think your skills would be invaluable in assisting her.”

My eyes flicker to Oakley, who tries to hide her disappointment behind a thin smile. “Go ahead,” she tells me, releasing my hand. “I’ll just watch for now.” She musters up a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Alright,” I say reluctantly, trying to ignore the tension between us. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive,” she replies, crossing her arms and stepping back.

The moment my hand touches Ally’s, Oakley’s face flashes across my mind. I shake the image away and focus on the task at hand.

As Ally and I start to dance, I can’t help but steal glances at Oakley. Her green eyes are locked onto our movements, and herlips are pressed into a tight line. It’s clear she’s not happy about this arrangement, despite her assurances.

“Focus, Theo,” Ally whispers, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You’re doing great.”

“Right, sorry.” I force myself to concentrate on the steps and forget about Oakley for a moment. Ally and I move smoothly around the room, our bodies in perfect sync. We make an undeniably impressive pair, but something feels off.

“See? You two look amazing together.” The instructor beams as we finish the demonstration. The other students murmur their agreement, some even clapping.

“Thanks,” I mumble, unable to shake the nagging feeling that I’ve let Oakley down. My gaze drifts back to her, finding her still watching us with a sour expression. When our eyes meet, she quickly looks away, feigning interest in the nearby wall.

“Great job, Theo,” Ally says, giving my hand a small squeeze before releasing it. “You really helped me understand the timing better.”

“Anytime,” I reply, my words lacking genuine enthusiasm. All I want is to get back to Oakley, to somehow make things right between us.

As I return to her side, she tries to hide her disappointment with a forced laugh. “You two were really something else,” she says, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Oakley, I?—”

“Let’s just get back to practicing,” she interrupts. Her eyes are determined, but I can’t help noticing the hurt that lingers beneath the surface.

As the music starts again, Oakley and I move cautiously at first. I can tell she’s putting all her focus into each step, and I find myself admiring her tenacity. She may not be the most graceful dancer, but her spirit is undeniable.

“Keep your head up, Oakley,” I gently remind her, my voice low so only she can hear. “You’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” she replies, her tone laced with gratitude and determination. “I won’t let you down.”

Her words resonate deep within me, and I’m reminded of all the times she’s stood by me—through thick and thin. It’s that fierce loyalty that makes me want to protect her from anything that could hurt her.

Together, we glide across the floor, our movements slowly becoming smoother and more synchronized. Oakley’s confidence grows with every step, and I can’t help but smile as I see the tension leave her body.

“Look at us, Theo,” she says, her voice filled with pride. “We’re actually doing it!”

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