Page 107 of Sinful

Sirena clearly knew her way around a kitchen. Or at least spaghetti and hot chocolate.

I had a feeling the sauce and dressing she’d made tonight were homemade too.

Placing my mug on the coffee table, I pulled out my pen and wrote a note back to her.

I want to still talk. I’m just not used to seeing Mirage that way. That’s a me problem, not you. Any of my feelings are my issue. I don’t intend on making them yours. I know I’ve been dumping a lot of it on you lately with our notes, and for that, I’m sorry. I’ll work on that.

She stared at my message, a frown on her lips.

I like you telling me things. I don’t want that to stop.

I sighed, deciding I didn’t want to have this conversation and I’d go ahead and change the subject. I took the notebook back from her and wrote more.

Tell me about dancing.

She nibbled her bottom lip for a moment before answering me.

I know what you’re doing.

Unlikely,I wrote back.I want to learn about ballet. Tell me about it.

She looked at me, a suppressed smile on her face, before she put her pen to paper and wrote to me.

It’s like flying but on your feet. It’s freedom in song. In movement. I loved it.

I watched her face morph from content to sad in a matter of seconds with her words.

Show me?

I had no idea if she even would.

She scoffed at my words and paused her pen over the paper.

I can’t. It’s been too long. Things change.

She wiped at her eyes quickly.

I took the notebook from her and offered her my hand. She stared up at me, her face damp.

“Siren, dance with me?”

She blinked and wiped her tears again before taking my hand. I brought her to her feet and led her to the large space between the back of the couch and the kitchen.

“I can’t dance,” I admitted. “But we can stumble together.”

She smiled at that and moved closer to me.

“I definitely don’t know ballet,” I continued, putting my other hand on her waist and ensuring I kept holding the hand I already had. “But I do know the chicken dance if that helps.”

She let out a little laugh that warmed my heart.

“Shall we?” I asked, raising a brow at her.

She nodded at me eagerly, and I shuffled awkwardly with her until we were both laughing at how clumsy I was. It was when I spun her and pulled her against my body, rocking us together, that I realized it didn’t matter what I did.

She was it.

She was the one.

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