Page 18 of Devil's Last Dance

She twirled some pasta onto her fork and glanced over at him. He’d already taken some pasta and sauce. Now he was cutting into a meatball.

“Fuck me, that is good,” he said.

This made her smile. “You think so?”

“Man, I love spaghetti and meatballs. It’s one of my favorite dishes, but this…” He scrunched his fingers together and air-kissed. “Delicious.”

She felt warm from the inside out. He loved her mother’s meatball recipe, cooked by her.

“Also, you know you were cute, right?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m being serious here. You were a cute kid and turned into a hot teenager.” He wrinkled his nose. “Okay, that sounds weird to say, doesn’t it?”

Candice burst out laughing. “Yeah, just a bit.”

“You’re hot now.”

She felt her cheeks start to heat.

“Be careful, Antwone, I might think you’re flirting with me.”

“And what if I am?” he asked.

This had taken a sudden and drastic turn. She didn’t know what to say, so she finished chewing on her food.

Antwone looked at her.

“Then I guess I’ll have to get you to dance with me.”

She got to her feet, leaving her plate of food and moving toward the small stereo. Candice had no idea what she was doing, but while he’d said those things, it did feel like a good idea. Glancing over to him, she walked back to the table and took his hand.

“Candice?”

“You can’t say something like that and not expect to dance with me.”

She pulled him away from the table, to her living room. There was only a small space to dance.

She let him go long enough to move the coffee table out of the way, and then pulled him into her arms. Taking hold of his hands, she placed them at her back, and then she put her hands on his shoulders.

Candice had never been one for dancing in nightclubs or bars, but she loved to dance in her own home.

Glancing up at Antwone and how close they were, this suddenly felt like a big mistake. She went to pull out of his arms, but he tightened his grip on her, not allowing her to go. Tilting her head back, she looked into his eyes. She had no idea what was happening, but she didn’t care.

He was so close, almost within kissing distance. When he stroked her cheek, she felt like she was melting against him, and she didn’t want to let him go.

“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” she said.

“Two things can happen,” he said.

“Two?”

“One, I can kiss you, and you don’t have to think, just feel. Two, we can stop dancing right now, go finish our food, and pretend this didn’t happen.” He leaned close to her ear. “Tell me which one would you’d like to happen?”

This wasn’t fair. She loved his friendship but the kiss sounded so good. Would it be so hard to kiss and see how it felt?

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