Page 25 of Gravity of Love
"Huh?” Frankie turned back to her.
“He says he’s going to take you home.” Shelby shouted over the music, and talking and pointed to Liam. “Is that okay? Do you know him?”
Frankie sighed dramatically as she said loudly, “I don’t know. Do I know you,Liam? Or are you going topretendyou don’t know me again?”
Liam wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but he didn’t have time for this. He had to be at work at midnight. He pulled out his phone and opened his photos app. He turned it around to Shelby. “We know each other. We grew up together. I’m the new doctor in town.”
“What are you showing her?” Frankie snatched his phone and looked at the photos he had. The digital copies of the pictures in his cigar box. When she saw the screen, she gasped and put her hand on her chest. “Liam, that’s us!”
Shelby grinned and moved down the bar.
“Come on, we’re going home.” He took his phone and put it in his back pocket.
“No!” She crossed her arms like she was one of his nieces or nephews pouting. “I don’t want to go home! Give me that back. I want to look at those!”
Liam knew how stubborn Frankie was sober. He’d never experienced drunk Frankie, but he imagined that was even worse.
He leaned down, speaking loudly as he bargained. “I’ll let you look at them if you let me take you home now.”
She considered his offer, then countered. “One more dance. Andyouhave to dance with me. Then you can take me home. Deal.” She held out her right hand to shake.
“I don’t dance,” he lied as the last chorus of Bruno Mars’ Uptown Funk played and the first few notes of the next song started.
“Liar. I’ve danced with you.”
Shit.That was true.
“One dance. Deal?” Her left hand crossed her right, making an X with her forearms, the way that they used to double shake when they were kids. Just seeing it brought back a sense of nostalgia he didn’t want to be feeling right now.
Fuck.Being that close to her would be his own personal hell. He just had to remember she was going to mar… He looked at her hand and saw that she wasn’t wearing her ring. Why wasn’t she wearing her ring?
Dance with her and find out, dumbass,he told himself.
He crossed his arms and double shook. “Deal.”
His arm snaked around her, partly to guide her, partly to keep her from falling down, and they made their way onto the dance floor. He stopped at the far end in a fairly private corner. She looked up at him. “Permission to step on your feet.”
He couldn’t help but smile. They’d danced at dozens of events as kids, and she’d always used his feet so that she could reach his shoulders.
“Permission granted.”
She bent down and took her heels off, hooking the straps on her fingers before stepping onto his feet. Then she lifted her arms, wrapped them around his neck, and sighed with her entire body as she melted into him. “This feelssogood.”
He closed his eyes and tried—with limited success—not think about how much he agreed with her. Frankie was so tiny in his arms that his hands settled on her back and spanned the entire width of her body. He wanted to move those hands, to shift them up and down, to memorize every inch of her, to put one on the back of her head and run his fingers through her wild, wavy hair. He wanted more than anything to just stand there and breathe her in, because she smelled exactly like he remembered—vanilla, a hint of coconut, something floral and bright, and unmistakablyher. He caught himself and tried to keep his expression neutral, worried his face might betray something he shouldn’t.
Frankie snuggled in closer, as if she could sense his hesitation and was determined to break him down. Her arms slipped up higher around his neck, the tops of her bare feet barely grazing his shoes as she balanced. The warmth of her breath fanned across skin as her lips brushed his throat. “This feels so good,” she murmured again, quieter this time, almost a whisper.
He tried to think of something to say to distract himself, but his brain misfired. Instead, he found himself focused on the way her hair tickled his jaw and the way her hands fit behind his neck, her fingers laced so tightly as if she was afraid he’d disappear if she let go. He angled his head down, searching her face—her eyes were closed, her lips parted in a soft, contented smile, the kind he hadn’t seen on her since he’d left her in his bed. He realized, in a jolting moment of clarity, that he’d missed this, the time-stopping comfort of being with someone who knew you as well, or better, than you knew yourself and knowing them the same way. He might not know everything, or anything that had happened the past ten years of her life, and vice versa, but he knew her on a cellular level, and she knew him.
They drifted in slow circles, surrounded by the thrum of the bar and the blurred shapes of the other dancers. Sam Cooke’s “Nothing Can Change This Love,” which was maybe too on the nose, played loudly through the speakers. Want was a physical thing, a pulse coursing through him, and he knew she had to be feeling it too. It was too strong for her not to. He squeezed her gently, and she responded by nuzzling into him and sighing again like she could fall asleep standing up.
Then she looked up at him. “Do you have any idea how good it feels not to wear heels anymore?”
Right. She was talking about her heels, not him. Everything he was feeling, imagining she was, was in his head.
“Yeah.” He made sure to mask his feelings. “Remember the shift I did at Hamburger Mary’s?”
Hamburger Mary’s was a diner that was known for nightly drag shows and drag brunch. His best friend Cam worked there junior and senior years. Liam spent a lot of time doing his homework while he waited for Cam to get off of his shift. They had amazing chicken strips.
