Page 87 of When Fate Breaks
“Oh, no,” I say, shaking my head, pulling one of her hands from my shoulder to hold it in mine. She looks from our joined hands to my face, brows raised. “We’re in Alabama, Evangeline. We’re two-stepping.”
Evangeline’s lips part in shock, but she doesn’t get a chance to speak before I take off, leading us around the dance floor. I pause once we reach a corner, dropping my hand from her waist to spin her. She picks up on my cue right away, spinning out and back to me perfectly in sync with the music. “Blake, I had absolutely no idea that you knew how to country two-step,” Evangeline breathes, beaming at me.
I grin back at her as we continue weaving through the dance floor. I don’t meet her eyes. I don’t tell her why I know how to do a partners dance that only people from the South grow up learning. I don’t tell her that I taught myself in my bedroom over a weekend back when we were teenagers just in case the situation would ever arise to dance with her. I don’t tell her a million things I probably should. Or shouldn’t. Instead, I respond with the same line I fed her yesterday. The one that garnered the exact reaction I was secretly hoping for.
“You probably have no idea all the things I’m capable of nowadays.”
Evangeline’s cheeks redden; whether from my comment or from the physical activity, I guess I’ll never know. She lowers her head, not saying anything else. Neither of us do as we waltz around the tiny bar, carrying on to the old country song all about two young lovers that ran wild and free and eventually lost each other.
Their one and only.
I try not to think about the words. Try not to think about how the song is told from the point of view of a man sitting in a country bar with jukeboxes wondering where it all went wrong. I gulp, blinking hard and trying to focus on anything in the room other than the lyrics continuing to play through the jukebox speakers. But all I see is her. She notices me staring and raises her head to meet my eyes. The song comes to an end and I quickly spin her one last time. She’s not as graceful in this one, bumping into my chest as she spins back in.
I drop her hand and take a step back, needing a little space for my head to clear. People filter on and off of the dance floor as the next song begins. I don’t even hear what the next song is, however, my feet still planted firmly in place as I watch her,Neon Mooncontinually playing on a loop in my mind.
“Should we?” Evangeline pipes up, breaking me from my trance as she gestures back towards our table. I just nod in response, following after her. She blows out a breath as we reach our seats, spinning around to face me. “Thank you. I really needed that. Or, at least, I– I wanted it. I guess,” she stammers.
Need and want.
So funny how easily those lines can blur.
When I stay quiet, Evangeline drops her head, letting out a nervous chuckle. My gaze falls, seeing her anxiously twirling the massive diamond ring around on her finger.
I suddenly feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.
She pauses her fidgeting to take a drink of her beer and my sight hones in on the writing on the side of the dark plastic cup. The name of the hardware show and the date. August 31st. That instantly reminds me that tomorrow is September 1st. And her wedding shower.
And I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut a second time.
Something tells me Evangeline has picked up on my shift in mood as she shuffles uncomfortably on her feet. “Are you ready to head back?” she asks. When I meet her eyes, I can tell that she’s replaying every interaction that just occurred between us over the last half hour, trying to figure out what she could have done to upset me.
Maybe look back a little further, Evangeline.
Maybe we both should.
A blow a breath out of my nose, trying my best to force a smile to my face. “Yeah, that’s probably best,” I say, picking up our still half full cups of beer and searching the room for a trash can. I spot one in the opposite corner of where we’re standing. “I’m gonna go toss these,” I say, nodding over my shoulder.
“Okay,” Evangeline says. “I’ll go pay the tab.”
“It’s under my name. Just grab my card from my wallet,” I say, motioning to my wallet still sitting on the table.
“But–” she starts to protest.
“Evangeline, I got it, really,” I insist, taking a step in the direction of the trash can.
“But you don’t need to–”
“Evangeline. Shut up and take my card.”
Her and I both stiffen. We have always joked and told each other to shut up, but that one came out much more forcefully than I intended it to. Evangeline doesn’t seem scared or even upset by my outburst, just more so perplexed. Or almost likeshefeels bad. I shake my head, resetting my emotions. “Please,” I plead with her, much more softly this time. “Really, it’s okay. Take my card and pay and I’ll throw these away.”
“Okay,” she breathes, keeping her eyes on me but reaching for my wallet.
I give her a tight lipped grin before I turn away, feeling like a complete asshole as I weave through the crowd for the trash can. How is there onlyonein this entire place? I grab a paper towel from a roll sitting on a table right by the can, using it to push down its overflowing contents so I can fit our cups in. I manage to spill half of one of the cups all over my forearm in the process, cursing under my breath as I grab another paper towel to clean up with.
When I start to return to the table, I don’t see Evangeline there. I glance towards the bar and don’t see her there either. After a moment of scanning, I find her between the two places, her back to me and head looking down at something. I assume she got a text message halfway to the bar and got distracted.
“Hey,” I say, approaching her from behind.
