Page 25 of Thanks for Coming Along

As she stood in front of him, he allowed his hands to brush her waist, unable to deny his hands the feel of her firm skin. He felt the apprehension leave his body as he focused on the feeling of Eden under his hands. She felt amazing and he was tempted to pull her closer. He blamed the tequila. Patrón was never a good idea.

Ronan stood there, his breath slowly steadying as Eden teetered on her tiptoes, her eyes straining to see the stage. She pivoted towards him, her gaze locked onto his beneath the swirling, multicolored lights.

"I'm coming up," Eden announced, leaving him blinking in confusion. Before he could ask what she meant, she threw her arms around his shoulders in a quick, tight hug and hitched herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her chunky boots pressed lightly against his back, and the mix of surprise and something warmer—something he couldn’t quite name—hit him square in the chest as she clung to him.

To keep his balance, he instinctively grabbed her thighs, her skin soft and warm under his hands. It grounded him, even as the bass pulsed through the air and fireworks cracked overhead.

In that moment, as everything around them seemed to blur, he reconsidered his earlier skepticism. Patrón was actually a great idea—the best one anyone had ever had.

"Sorry, you're tall, so I'm using you to see the stage," her voice whispered in his ear, her warm breath sending a shiver down his spine. Then she turned her head, her chest brushing against his as she craned to see the stage over the crowd's heads.

"At your service," he responded with a playful grin. He had never been more grateful for his height as the warmth from her body doused his abdomen and chest, making his heart quicken. A small voice in his head clamored with warning bells, but he quickly silenced those alarms.

"So this is what it's like in the stratosphere. You can see the tops of everyone's heads. Do you ever judge people's cowlicks?"

"Every chance I get. Right now, yours is a solid six out of ten," he teased, wrapping one arm under her thighs and using his hand to give her wig a playful tug. The wig slid slightly off-kilter and was now pulled too far to the right side of her head.

"Watch the wig, Murphy." She shot back with a grin, then pulled it off her head, revealing her glossy brown hair as it cascaded gracefully down her back. Ronan watched, fascinated, as she plunked the wig onto his head.

"Wow, it suits you." She said as she fluffed the wig on his head.

"Hmmm, you think? Do I look like Lord Farquaad? Please say no,” he joked, the blue bangs hanging over his eyes. Eden responded with a hearty laugh, throwing her head back, and the melodious sound echoed around him. Ronan couldn't help but want to join in her infectious laughter, his lips twitching.

"I knew you looked familiar." Her grin was contagious as she held back further laughter. Ronan couldn't help but burst into a grin as well. Her face suddenly shifted, turning serious.

"You're really beautiful when you smile," Eden's voice was gentle, her gaze unwavering on his face. His stomach clenched at her words, his palms growing slightly clammy against her skin. Her words hung in the air. "It brightens your whole face." Her gaze held his as his heart quickened. He felt a lump form in his throat as he found himself momentarily lost in the depths of her gaze.

"Guys, the set is finished." Ingrid's voice chimed from his left, pulling Ronan's attention away from Eden. He looked, and everyone was shuffling towards the exits; the music had stopped entirely, but he hadn't even noticed. Completely absorbed by the beautiful woman in his arms.

"Oh, I guess I don't need to see the stage anymore," Eden said with a sheepish smile. His hands lingered on her legs as she gently detached herself from his grip.

Ronan stood there for a few seconds, still processing her compliment. That might have been the best compliment he had ever received. Who was he kidding? Itwasthe best compliment he had received. Did she genuinely believe what she had said? Or was it just the tequila talking? Eden had only had one shot of tequila, though. A slight flare of hope lit in his heart. His emotions danced on a precipice, balanced between hope and uncertainty. Hope, he knew, could be a risky thing amid so many unknowns. He pushed aside the doubts and followed Eden, eager to see where she would take him next.

15

Eden

"When I asked what was up with Ronan, I didn't expect to find you grinding on him. Then, at the festival, you two were all cozy. I need details, Baby." Ingrid demanded from the wooden lounger on the deck of her house. Ingrid had taken to calling Eden "Baby" from the 1987 cult classic "Dirty Dancing" ever since she found Ronan and Eden dancing in her living room two nights ago.

That night, Eden had dodged any questions by ordering way too much Chinese food and putting on Black Swan to keep Ingrid distracted. Then, with the festival eating up all of yesterday, Ingrid hadn’t had a chance to grill her about it.

But now it was the morning after, coffee was brewed, and Ingrid was bright-eyed and pushy on top of being bushy-tailed.Queue the Ingrid Inquisition.

She might have pushed the boundaries when she wrapped her legs around his waist, claiming she needed a better view of the stage. She wished she could have chalked it up to liquid courage, but she had only had one shot of tequila and was stone-cold sober by the time they had reached the performance. It seemed she was just reckless when it came to Ronan. Especially the dancing. It was definitely inappropriate, but that didn't make her regret it in the slightest. Dancing with Ronan had ignited a rush in her veins, a sensation she hadn't experienced for a long time, if ever.

Her relationship with Liam had been tumultuous. There had been so many ups and downs, but she didn't think she had ever felt like she did the last two nights. The realization sent a sudden plummeting sensation to her stomach. She had felt full of life when she was with Ronan. It was how she felt on stage but without the showmanship. She feltalive. It was scary and wonderful. It was highly problematic for a slew of reasons, including but not limited to their current interviewer and interviewee status.

"Ronan is my interviewer. We are totally professional, I don't know what you're talking about." Eden hid her smile behind her coffee mug, ignoring the butterflies thumping in her stomach.

"Professional? I should report you to both corporate HR! Colleagues don't grind in the middle of an interview. Or hang all over each other at a festival." Ingrid exclaimed, her eyes widening dramatically.

"We weren't grinding, you sicko! You have a twisted mind," Eden said half-heartedly.

"I saw a full frontal encounter happening. I saw it with my own eyes," Ingrid replied. Eden sighed dreamily. Ifonly.A girl could dream. A full frontal with Ronan would be life-altering, she surmised.

"You are imagining it right now, perv! You are drooling, by the way." Ingrid said with an incredulous laugh.

"Don't even start. I saw you drooling over Beck during the show yesterday. You guys flirt like you are still in college." Bullseye. That shut up Ingrid real quick. Ingrid rolled her eyes and took a sip of her coffee.

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