She steps back onto the dance floor and is reabsorbed into thedance.
“Do you want to dance?” Isaac leans closer, his words caressing the top of myear.
Watching the timed twirling and foot stomping, I say “I don’t know how to do...whatever thatis.”
“Me neither. But we can make our own dance.” Isaac pulls my hand, spinning me in to him. I grunt as I catch myself on hischest.
My hands move to his shoulders. The scent coming off his neck is dizzying. He smells sweet but also spicy, clean but a bit like a forest. He paints a design on the small of my back with his fingertips, making me shiver despite the heat of the bodies aroundus.
The longer we dance, the harder it is to remember where we are, and suddenly I wonder if we look like that couple I watched when I arrivedtonight.
I lean in even closer, cupping Isaac’s cheek, and whisper, “I’m ready toleave.”
Isaac’s fingers trail over the back of my neck, across my shoulder, and down to my hand. His face is next to my ear. I listen for his words, but none come. He presses a cheek to my hair, and I barely make out a softgroan.
Isaac pulls back, my hand still in his, and leads me through the crowded bar. Outside, a line of cabs wait. He walks up to the first one, holds open the door, and climbs in after me. He gives the driver directions, then asks me for myphone.
“Why?” I ask, taking it from mypurse.
“I told Britt I would tell her where I’m taking you. And give her my address.” He takes myphone.
“Why not from your phone?” I ask as he opens my texts. Britt’s name is my most recentconversation.
“I didn’t bring my phone with me tonight. I didn’t want to be reached.” His voice is strained, and I’d bet a million dollars it has to do with why he wasthere.
He types out a message and hands it back to me. The phone slips from my sweaty palms twice before I get it back in my purse. I’m not sure how to say what I’m thinking, so I blurt out, “Do we need ground rules?” I feel like an idiot for not knowing how these thingsgo.
Isaac looks confused. It relieves me. If he’d known just what I was asking, it would’ve unnervedme.
I groan and push my hair out of my eyes. “Are we exchanging last names? Because it just occurred to me we never made it to that minordetail.”
He shifts so his body faces me. “Do you wantto?”
“No…” I say slowly, but I’m still thinking. Knowing his last name might make him more real. Maybe the less I know, the better. “No,” I repeat, my voiceconfident.
“OK, then.” He smiles and takes my hand. “Aubrey with no last name, do you like icecream?”
I lift a finger and shake my head. “Oh no no no. I’m not getting all Fifty Shades of Grey with you. Even if you are my second-bestfriend.”
Isaac’s laughter fills the back seat. “I’m not talking about that. I meant the questionliterally.”
“Oh.” I giggle. “Sorry.”
He pushes a strand of hair out of my face, his fingers running the length of my ear as he tucks itaway.
My breath slams up my throat, thick and hot.All he did was touch your ear. Calm down.A change of subject is needed.Now.
“You didn’t say what brought you into the bar tonight,” I say. “Is there a certain female that caused you to seek refuge in abottle?”
Isaac looks down, lightly punching the empty space on the seat between us. “In a sense, yes.” He winces, like he’s remembering thehurt.
“Do you want to tell me the ugly truth?” My voice issoft.
He shakes his head. “It’s not my ugly truth totell.”
He falls quiet, and so do I. Questions pop into mymind.
You’re job is to help people? Howso?
