Page 59 of Fast

Dad has been glancing their way while he’s dancing with his new wife. Lev has been shuffling closer and closer to them while dancing with Angela.

Heather is watching them too from her seat at my same table.

“You know,” she finally bites out. “Angie finally got Lev to dance with her and Chance has clearly decided to monopolize Zara. It looks like we’re the only members of the wedding party who aren’t dancing. I think you should be a gentleman and ask me?—”

Lev chooses that exact moment to ditch Angela, and he’s about to walk up to Zara and Chance.

If I don’t ask her now, I might not get to dance with her.

I shoot up from my chair, cutting Heather off.

“Hey!” she squeals. “I was talking to you!”

But I’m not even looking at her. I’m in the middle of the dance floor in a heartbeat, my hand extended to Zara in a silent offering.

Those two are so wrapped up in their little bubble that I have to clear my throat to finally get their attention.

“Hey brother, do you mind if I cut in?” I hope my hard stare conveys that I’m not really asking.

The little shit—he’s two inches taller than me, but whatever—levels me with a look that’s even harder than my own glare.

“You don’t have to ask me,” he drawls. “If Zara wants to dance with you, be my guest.”

I hate to admit that throwing the ball in Zara’s court is pretty smart. It’s obvious that if it was up to him, he would tell me to fuck off; but if it’s Zara who turns me down, he doesn’t have to look like an asshole.

We both look at our stepsister, waiting for her decision with matching tension in our shoulders.

Zara doesn’t answer Chance’s question with words. She nods.

Ha. Take that, Chance. I know full well that Zara welcomes my little brother’s attentions, but I know I haven’t imagined the way the air crackles with electricity every time she and I look at each other.

Chance whispers something into her ear before he steps back with another glare in my direction.

I’m not one hundred percent sure what he said to her. I think something like “see you later.”

Whatever.

I pull Zara into my arms just as the music changes to an even slower song, and the lights are dimmed now that a lot more people are dancing.

Neither of us says one word for a long moment. I wonder if she’s just basking in the feeling of being close to me, the same way I’m doing right now.

There’s no rhyme or reason to why having her in my arms feels so right, but it does.

I take advantage of the fact that she’s in my arms to look at her.

“You look beautiful.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can even think about the consequences of uttering them.

I’ve never really been a relationship kind of guy; especially in the past two years, I’ve been so lost that even breathing felt like hard work.

I don’t know what I’m looking for right now, but the thing is, I think Zara is looking for something or someone, too. And every fiber of my being feels drawn to her in a way that makes me wonder if we might be on a similar trajectory.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “You look handsome too.”

There’s another beat of silence. Thank fuck for the music, or this would have the potential to get awkward really fast.

Somehow, though, Zara doesn’t look uncomfortable in my arms. All I fucking know is that I like the feeling of her soft body next to mine a lot more than I would have any business to.

Two years ago, when I almost kissed her, I know she wanted me to.

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