I squared us up, holding her right hand and slipping my other hand to her waist. She put her left hand on my shoulder, but kept her distance, not leaning into me. It was a slower song, so we could talk. But she was quiet, her eyes searching my chest.
“I never said thank you. For last night.” Her gaze stayed fixed on my shirt, but she quickly flicked a glance up at me.
“You’re welcome. Sorry it caused unrest in your house.”
Her cheeks burned again. “That’s—it’s—he’ll get over it. We’re working it out.”
I clenched my teeth. I wasn’t going to have molars if Jessie stayed with Cole much longer. He was cheating on her. He didn’t deserve for her to ‘work it out’ with him. He deserved to dine on my fist for fucking dinner and spit up chiclets for dessert.
“Nice party,” she said. “They really are a great couple. Rare.”
“Why rare?” I asked.
She rubbed her lips together, looking at the white fabric draped over us. “Not every love is that all-consuming, do-anything-for-you kind of love, you know? It’s the stuff of love songs and movies and novels, but it’s rare to see it in real life.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You don’t think it really exists? You’re the one who believes in long commitments.”
“It exists. It’s just rare. Not everyone gets that lucky.”
I originally thought Jess was a hopeless romantic, or assumed people who were good at relationships were. Instead of being a full beating heart, it now seemed like hers was made out of crumbly, dry-rotted elastic. What had Cole done to her? This beautiful woman in front of me didn’t believe in love the way it was meant to be felt. Or at least, how I hoped it would feel. “It might sound weird coming from me, but I believe in it. I think it’s out there for everybody. We’ve just gotta keep looking.”
“Well, we’ve established that you’re a live laugh love girlie, Mikey,” she said with a sad smile. “You gave a nice speech, by the way.”
I laughed self-consciously. “I don’t know if I give speeches so much as public verbal diarrhea.”
She cackled, a musical sound, her head dipping into the space between us, then throwing her head back. “You’re funny, you know that?”
“Funny. No filter. I’ve gotten ‘em all,” I said. She laughed again, then studied my eyes. What was she looking for? What was I looking for looking back at her? Whatever it was, it felt like I found it. Her hazel irises were fascinating in color alone, but it was how she looked at me. She was waiting for me to say more, to keep brightening her day. I wanted to give her that, because when I could make her laugh, it made everything better for me, too. Tension pulsed between us and I felt something that didn’t come often to me: attraction. And not the more familiar “you bounce on my cock” attraction, though that was there, too. It was more “I need to know everything about you and this is probably dangerous but I want to breathe the same air as you for the rest of my living moments.”
I felt that way for a woman who was in a relationship, just dancing with her once and looking into her eyes. And snuggling her in my bed. And talking late into the night with her.
Christ. I was a piece of work.
The song ended, but we still stood together, our arms up in the classic partner dance pose.
“I should get going. It’s late for me.”
I swallowed and nodded. “Right. Sure. I probably have to stay a while. Groomsman and all that.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.”
“Walk you to your car?”
“I think I’ll make it, Jockey. It’s just out front.” She walked back to get her purse at her table and I followed.
“This neighborhood, Jess,” I warned.
“Is what, really safe?”
I rolled my eyes. “Just make me feel better. This is for me, not you.”
“Oh, well, since it’s about you, you want me to wait until you can tailgate me home, too?” she scoffed. “I’m going to go say bye to Kitty.”
Kitty’s eyes lit up as Jessie and I approached. “Look at the two neighbors, making peace!” she teased. Jessie and Kitty hugged and promised to have lunch together Monday.
Jessie’s car was way up the street, almost a mile it felt like. “How old is your car?” I asked once I laid eyes on the ancient red Honda.
“She’s antique,” Jessie said, touching the hood defensively.
