Page 48 of Crush
I held her waist with my other hand. The two of us began to glide to the music while the crowd watched.
“So, Brynn, on a scale of one to ten Mortified Chloes, where do you rank right now?” I asked her quietly.
She gave a gentle laugh. “Hm … I'd say I'm at a solid two.”
“Two. Hey. I'll take that.”
We moved as one. I have to say, I liked it. I liked it all—the warmth of her delicate hand clasped in mine; her eyes locked on mine, and twinkling in the low light; her round breasts pressing against my body. It was nice enough that I couldalmostforget about my jackass teammates' smiling mugs out in the audience. (Although I shot them a dirty stare anytime I happened to catch their eyes.)
“So are you having flashbacks to your high school prom right about now?” I asked her.
“No. I wouldn't have any prom to flashback to.”
“Huh?”
“I never went to the prom. Oranyof my high school dances, actually.”
My eyes widened. “Noneof them? No one ever askedyouto a dance?”
“Believe it or not. I was sort of a mess back then.”
“I don't believe it. The boys were probably completely in love with you, but too shy to ask you out.”
“Well, I won't stop you from believing that.” Her smile strained. “But if someonehadasked me to go, I probably would've said no, because at that age, I thought all thispomp and circumstancebullshit was super contrived and lame.”
“Ah-ha.” I grinned. “See—that right there—explains why the boys were too afraid to ask you to the dance. Plus, it makes me understand why Chloe likes you so much.”
She winced. “Yeah …”
“Something wrong?”
“No,” she said, but I could tell she wasn't being honest.
I didn't want to call her out on it. So we danced, and didn't speak, until the pressure grew too strong inside me. I had to say something.
“Brynn, are you upset with me?”
“No,” she said, pressing her head against my chest—and I wondered if it was so I couldn't read her face. “Not at all.”
“Really? Are you sure? I feel like I've done or said something to bother you. All night you've been acting strange, and I can't figure out what it is.”
“Oh, Shea.” She lifted her head from my chest to give me a puppy dog pout. “You haven't done anything wrong. But yes, there is something serious on my mind.”
I swallowed. “And what's that?”
Chapter 17
Brynn
The tall hockey player had one giant hand clutched at my waist. His other hand, so big and warm, firmly held mine aloft. The lights were dim, the music romantic, and the crowd fawning as we slow danced our way into their adoring hearts.
All night, I'd run away from what I had to tell Shea. But I couldn't keep lying to him—I was a bad liar when sober, andtwiceas bad when I had enough wine in me—and he knew something was wrong.
More than anything, I hated the fact that I had to be the one to ruin this moment.
“I'm worried about Chloe,” I said at last.
Shea launched intoDad Mode.“What about Chloe? Is she in trouble?”
