Page 166 of Hard Knot

"How do you know?" I challenge, swaying slightly. "Maybe that's exactly how they work. Maybe Felix has been lying to us this whole time and his glasses are actually magic. Did you ever think about that?"

The bartender returns with what looks like a fruity mocktail, complete with little umbrellas and fresh fruit garnish. Holmeshands it to me, his fingers brushing mine in a way that sends sparks shooting up my arm.

"Drink this," he says, "and then we can discuss Felix's potentially magical eyewear."

I accept the drink but narrow my eyes at him suspiciously.

"You're humoring me."

"Never," he says with such perfect seriousness that I can't help but giggle.

"Liar," I accuse, but I take a sip of the drink anyway. It's delicious – all tropical fruit and fizzy sweetness. "Oh! This is good. Want to try?"

I offer him the glass, but he shakes his head, something darkening in his expression as he watches me. The look makes heat pool in my stomach, and I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with alcohol.

"You've been watching me dance," I say suddenly, the realization hitting me with the force of revelation. "All night. From up there." I point vaguely toward the VIP section where I'd caught glimpses of him throughout the evening.

"Someone has to make sure you don't fall off the dance floor," he says neutrally.

"I don't fall," I protest, then immediately have to grab his arm to keep my balance. "Much."

His hand settles on my waist, steadying me, and the warmth of his touch seems to seep through the thin material of my dress. I find myself leaning into him slightly, drawn by his solid presence in my spinning world.

"The room's moving," I inform him seriously. "Like, the whole room. Did you know it could do that?"

"The room tends to do that after seven cocktails," Holmes observes, his hand still steady on my waist. "Maybe we should get you some air."

"Or," I counter, brightening with sudden inspiration, "you could dance with me instead!"

He stiffens slightly.

"I don't dance."

"Yeah right," I scoff, poking his chest again. "I bet you're secretly amazing at it. But even if you're shit, we can just hug and sway. That's barely even dancing. That's like...vertical hugging with music."

As if the universe itself wants to prove my point, the pulsing club beats fade into something slower, more intimate. The change in tempo sends a ripple through the crowd as couples begin pairing off.

"Perfect timing!" I exclaim, quickly downing the rest of my mocktail before he can stop me.

Holmes barely manages to catch the glass before I can toss it over my shoulder, smoothly placing it on a passing waiter's tray.

"Elizabeth..."

"Look," I say, gesturing toward our pack's booth. "Everyone else is taking a break. Felix looks as wasted as I feel! Is he actually sleeping on Carter?"

Sure enough, Felix has his head rested on Carter's shoulder, glasses slightly askew, while Carter and James nurse what looks like expensive whiskey, deep in conversation.

"This is the perfect time," I insist, turning back to Holmes with what I hope is a winning smile. "No audience, no pressure..."

He groans, already shaking his head.

"I really don't?—"

"If you don't dance with me," I announce, feeling my eyes start to water on command, "I'm going to stand right here and cry." I push my bottom lip out slightly, perfecting the puppy dog look that used to work so well on my father.

Holmes watches the tears gather in my eyes, his expression shifting from resistance to resignation.

"You're faking," he accuses, but I can see him wavering.

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