Page 70 of Passenger Princess

“Absolutely not,” he says instantly, and I deepen my pout at him.

“Come on, Jaime. Please? I’m bored! Everyone is dancing!”

“I’m sitting right here,”Beckett, the Atlas Oaks drummer, says from the other side of the table.

“Doyouwant to dance with me?” I ask, turning my attention to him.

He smiles wide and opens his mouth, then stops. Even over the music, I hear the chair scraping as Jaime stands, pushing back his chair and grabbing my hand.

“Fine. One. One dance.”

“Yippee!” I say, grabbing his hand and nearly skipping as he leads me onto the dance floor.

“Did you just sayyippee?”

“Yeah, I'm excited. You should try it, feeling emotion every once in a while.” That has him rolling his eyes.

“I feel emotion," he grumbles. "I felt emotion in Georgia.”

A chill runs through me that doesn’t leave me the least bit cold. I rack my brain for what to say next, but then he stops in a semi-clear spot on the dance floor, taking my hands and putting them on his shoulders and gently placing his hands awkwardly on my waist. A small laugh leaves my lips as I look up at him.

“God, what is this, middle school? Are we leaving room for Jesus?”

“What?”

“I dated a guy in high school who went to Catholic school, and that’s what they said at the dances. We needed a foot between us to leave space for Jesus. It was to discourage grinding, though half of the kids were sneaking out to fool with their dates anyway, so it didn’t work too well.”

“Huh. Well, yeah. Professionalism, remember?”

I roll my eyes, then step closer, moving until my arms wrap around his neck, looking up at him with a sly smile. “Yeah, it was real professional when you pressed me against a wall, your hands on my tits, and kissed me until I saw stars.”

“Ava…” he says, starting to let go and shaking his head. "This was a shit idea.”

“No, no, come on. I’ll be good,” I whisper, sincerity lacing in the words. “Just a dance. A real dance that won’t look like I’m forcing you into it.” I give him big puppy dog eyes, and it only takes a moment before he gives in, before his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me into him tight.

“This is so unprofessional.”

“If anyone calls you out on it, I’ll be sure to tell the world it was my idea and I forced you into it. I’ll tell them all about how you can’tstand me and are barely enduring me.” He shakes his head, irritation on his face as his arm around my waist loosens. ”What? What did I do wrong this time?”

“I think I've made it crystal fucking clear by now that I don’t hate you, Ava. I feel the furthest thing from it.”

“Well, you always look so annoyed dealing with me,” I say as we sway to the song, a crooning voice and slow instruments swirling around me. I’ve had a single glass of champagne, yet somehow, at this moment, I feel completely inebriated. “Gives a girl a complex, you know.”

Time passes as we sway, and then his hand presses on my back, forcing my body to glue tightly to his as he stares into my eyes.

“I’m annoyed with myself most of the time. Annoyed that I let you get to me. I'm obsessed with you, Ava. I’ve told you as much. You tell me all the time that I’m into you, that I like you. You spend every day fucking with me, flirting with me, telling me I'm in love with you, and then any time I do something marginally nice, you act surprised as fuck.”

“Because I’m just fucking with you, Jaime. I don’t actually think?—”

“Don’t lie to me, and don’t lie to yourself, Ava.” He lifts one hand, brushing my long, loose curls over my shoulder and down my back, rough fingertips grazing my neck as he does.

I don't speak for long moments as we sway, unsure how to respond, especially with his body so close to mine in a way that fits too right.

“You’re quiet," he says eventually.

“Hmm,” I say, not answering his unspoken question.

“You gonna tell me why?”

---