Page 29 of Hooked on Emerson
"I think it's time for item number four," Emerson said quietly, nodding toward the makeshift dance floor.
Ava felt a flutter of nervousness. "Dancing under the lights?"
"Unless you've changed your mind."
She shook her head, setting down her cup on the booth counter. "No. I want to."
Emerson offered his hand, palm up, an echo of that first day in Nattie's photo session when they'd been strangers pretending at connection. Now his hand was familiar—the calluses, the small scar across his knuckle, the strength that was always tempered with gentleness. She placed her hand in his without hesitation.
They walked to the edge of the dance area, finding a space among the other couples. The music wrapped around them, fiddle notes rising and falling like conversation. Emerson turned to face her, his free hand settling at her waist with careful certainty. Ava's hand found his shoulder, the wool of his flannel shirt soft beneath her fingers.
They began to move, a simple box step that required no thinking, just feeling. Ava found herself relaxing into the rhythm, into the solid presence of Emerson leading with subtle pressure at her waist. Unlike their dance in the shop, this timethere was no hesitation in his movements, no careful distance maintained between them.
"You've been practicing," she teased gently, looking up at him.
The corner of his mouth lifted. "Video tutorials. Very educational."
"You watched dance tutorials? For this?"
He shrugged, the movement smooth under her hand. "Wanted to do it right."
The admission—the image of Emerson alone in his house, practicing dance steps because he knew it was on her list—created a warmth in her chest that spread outward, making her feel light and grounded all at once. She stepped closer, eliminating the proper dancing distance between them until she could feel the warmth of his body against hers.
"Thank you," she said softly, her words almost lost in the music. "For today. For all of it."
His hand at her waist drew her imperceptibly closer. "I've enjoyed every minute."
They moved together beneath the canopy of lights, finding their own rhythm within the music. Ava was acutely aware of every point of contact between them—his hand at her waist, her palm against his shoulder, their joined hands creating a circuit of warmth. The world beyond their small circle seemed to recede, becoming background to the essential fact of them, here, moving together.
Emerson's thumb traced a small circle against her waist, the gesture so subtle she might have imagined it if not for the trail of warmth it left through her sweater. She found herself leaning into him, her cheek coming to rest against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, steady but quick, a counterpoint to the music.
The song shifted, sliding into something slower, more intimate. Around them, couples adjusted their stance, drawingcloser. Without a word, Emerson's arms encircled her waist completely, Ava's coming up to link behind his neck. They swayed more than danced now, their movements minimal but perfectly synchronized.
Ava closed her eyes, letting herself simply feel the moment—the solid warmth of him against her, the music surrounding them, the perfect autumn night air on her skin. For the first time in months, maybe years, she felt fully present, not thinking about what came next or what had come before. Just here, now, in this moment that felt like a gift.
"Ava," Emerson said softly, his voice rumbling in his chest beneath her ear.
She lifted her head to look at him, finding his eyes already on her face. The string lights reflected in them, tiny constellations in the darkness of his pupils. His expression was open, vulnerable in a way she rarely saw—all guards down, all walls momentarily set aside.
"Yes?" she whispered, her heart suddenly racing.
His gaze dropped to her mouth for the briefest moment before returning to her eyes. The hand at her waist tightened slightly, drawing her imperceptibly closer. "I think I'm falling in love with you."
The words hung between them, honest and unadorned. Ava felt her breath catch, a warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with the cider or the dancing. They had stopped moving, standing still in the midst of swaying couples, the only fixed point in a sea of motion.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, a rush of emotion flooding through her—joy, fear, uncertainty, longing. The words she wanted to say caught in her throat, tangled with all the complications of her unresolved future. Seattle or Millfield. Staying or going. Her mother's legacy or her own path.
"Emerson, I—" she began, her voice barely audible above the music.
Before she could continue, a crash sounded from nearby, followed by shouts and laughter. They turned to see a booth had partially collapsed, pumpkins rolling across the ground while festival workers rushed to help. The moment fractured, reality rushing back in all at once.
Emerson's arms loosened around her, though he didn't step away completely. "I shouldn't have—"
"No," Ava interrupted, her hand coming up to touch his face, keeping his eyes on hers. "Don't take it back."
His expression softened, relief and something deeper in his eyes. "I won't. But maybe this isn't the right place for this conversation."
She nodded, aware again of the crowd around them, the public nature of where they stood. "Later, then."
