I sound blithe and happy. Like I don’t have anything else in the world to be doing right now other than teasing this hot football player about the word he used to identify his butt. I barely recognize my own voice. I sound shimmery and fun. I don’t hate it.
“You’re right. Anton is rubbing off on me. He talks all proper and formal sometimes. But also, you seem like a classy sort of lady, so I figured the words I’d usually use would make you blush.”
“That’s just the blood currently rushing to my head.”
He laughs outright at that. He jogs down the deserted hallway and skids to a stop, carefully setting me on the ground. His chest rises and falls with exertion, but he keeps his hands on my waist, staring into my eyes. “You good?”
I feel for my mask, making sure it stayed in place while upside down. When I’m assured my identity is still undercover, I lean forward to brush off the sparkles that have transferred from my dress to the lapel of his tux, letting my hands linger. “Yeah, Iam. Thanks for the lift.” My playful voice is gone, replaced with a breathy whisper.
“Anytime.” He winks.
I smile, but I have to work for it, because this is it. There won’t be another time between TJ and me. No more back-and-forth banter. No more of his kindness and attention directed at me.
As fun as this was, it was all pretend … just for this one night. It’s better this way, because TJ and I would not be compatible in real life. I don’t live in the moment like this, and I get the sense that he does … all the time. He’s outgoing and charismatic, and I stay holed up in my room, writing romance novels in secret. I’ve fallen from grace, and he’s some type of beloved football star. The type of public figure I went ahead and lambasted on national television.
We’re not meant to be.
But that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel a twinge of regret that I’m not even giving myself the chance to see him again. I waffle, wondering if it would be so bad to take the mask off, or to at least give him my first name and phone number. I could tell him to write me at Daisy’s Inn.
Are pen pals still a thing? I haven’t had one since second grade, but he seems like the type of guy who would be down for something goofy like that.
“Is TJ Wilson on the premises?” The question booms through the speakers, jostling me out of my pathetic train of thought. This isn’t elementary school, and I’m not here to be TJ’s friend.
“That’s me.” TJ is smiling, but he’s also hesitating, searching my face for … what, exactly? I don’t know. “I guess this is where I leave you.” He says it like a question, putting the ball firmly in my court.
My heart does a series of starts and stops. It’s so tempting to do something stupid right now, like pull his ridiculously handsome face down to mine and kiss him, but my brain kicks into high gear, reminding me why it would be a horrible idea to push thingsfurther than I already have. So instead, I playfully shove him away. “Go ahead. You’re late.”
“Fashionably late,” he corrects with a grin. My knees wobble under my dress. How can a man have so much charm? So much swagger? He takes a step backward, still facing me. “I hope you got your inspiration.”
“I did.” I hold his gaze, drinking in the ombre wave of his blue eyes and committing the kaleidoscope to memory. I never want to forget how it feels to be the sole object of TJ Wilson’s attention. It’s a heady sensation. It makes me feel powerful and alive in a way I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before. “Thank you for tonight.”
He steps back toward me. “I feel like we should, like I should …” he breaks off, shaking his head.
“What?”
“Should I hug you right now?” His eyes are wide and searching my gaze from beneath his mask. My heart pounds. “Should I kiss you?” he asks, his voice lower still.
My body sways like I’m under some sort of spell. “If we were getting personal tonight, then maybe I would tell you that I’ve never been kissed before.” I lick my lips, and his gaze darts down before ricocheting back up to meet my eyes.
“Never?” His voice scrapes like a wave against the sand.
I shake my head, forcing down the feelings of humiliation that this simple truth about myself conjures and telling myself to own it.
TJ leans in, and my stomach bottoms out. This is it. This is a moment I’ve dreamt up and imagined more times than I can count. Lately, I thought it might never happen for me. I might spend my days penning fictional love stories but never experience so much as a simple kiss for myself—for real.
He pauses and reaches forward, holding one of the tendrils of my hair between his fingers before tucking it behind my ear. My eyelids flutter closed.
I feel his warm breath against my cheek, where he places a lingering but chaste kiss.
I let out a gasp when he whispers in my ear, “If we were getting personal tonight, I’d tell you that I want to kiss you.” I feel more than see him swallow, like he’s fighting for control, and my blood starts to hum. My body is a live wire. “I want that very much,” he rumbles against my earlobe. “But you deserve for your first kiss to be with a man who knows you. A man who’ll savor the moment and take his time and treat you to the tender sort of embrace you deserve. Don’t settle for anything less.”
“Ah! There he is, ladies and gentlemen,” the guy talking into the mic shouts.
I frantically step away from him, out of view, as TJ looks down into the Atrium from the top of the staircase. The crowd cheers, and he holds up both hands in salute, but then he casts one last look at me.
His words ring in my ears.A man who knows you. A man who’ll savor. Don’t settle.They’re wrapping themselves around a fractured part of my heart I didn’t realize was broken, and suddenly I want TJ Wilson to know me.
But this isn’t about what I want. It can’t be, so I muster up my brightest smile, even though my stomach is plummeting, and wave him onward. “Go!”
