My eyes caught on Chloe, who was dancing cheek to cheek with Judge not too far away, and she was smirking gleefully at me.
Damn.
This was totally not childhood friends.
This said something else.
And bottom-line truth?
If I let myself be in this, how it felt right now, I was there for it.
At the same time absolutely terrified of it.
But in that moment, under the fairy lights streaming across the rafters over our heads, this song playing, it was difficult (nay! impossible) to pull away from him. Put distance between us. Make a statement about where we were at, or where we probably should be.
Not because I suddenly wasn’t sure where that was, but because he smelled good. He felt good. He danced very well.
I felt safe in my skin when I was in his arms.
I felt right in my skin.
I felt right in Dair’s arms.
Oh no.
This was bad.
But it felt so good.
I closed my eyes and rested my cheek on his shoulder.
That felt even better.
He gathered me closer and stroked my spine with his hand.
That felt the best.
Oh yes.
This was so, so bad.
I needed to get a handle on it.
I needed to put a stop to it.
I opened my eyes.
And saw his mother off to the side of the dance floor with an expression on her face I’d never seen in my life and wished I still hadn’t.
I tensed, lifted my cheek from Dair’s shoulder, and twisted my neck to see what she was looking at.
The reception was under a huge pergola (currently decorated by bails and bails of beautiful grass and fairy lights). It was an outdoor event space that had several outbuildings for necessities, like a loo, a massive catering kitchen, and bride’s and groom’s lounges.
And I caught Mum and Balfour ducking behind the groom’s lounge.
I shot straight, moved my attention the other direction, saw Kenna’s face setting to pissed and determined, and her body started moving toward the groom’s lounge.
Oh no!
