I lift our joined hands and brush my lips lightly against the back of hers, just enough for the cameras to catch the softness but not the truth. Her eyes go wide, unguarded for one suspended beat.
“Come on,” I murmur, letting my voice fall low and warm for her alone. “Let’s give them something beautiful to write about.”
Her shoulder brushes mine like a secret she doesn’t know how to hold yet, and we move through the ballroom together. The crowd parts without us asking. Alycia’s fingers stay threaded with mine as we near the edge of the dance floor. I feel her pause beside me, not hesitant exactly, but caught between professionalism and something that doesn’t fit neatly into either of our boundaries.
I angle toward her, dipping my head so only she can hear me. “Torres.”
She looks up, eyes bright, like she’s standing too close to something she shouldn’t want. “Kyle…”
“I’m not asking for anything, just a dance. You and I, moving for a minute before the night owns us again.”
She blinks hard, weighing the risk of letting herself have even one small indulgence. “One dance.”
The music is something slow, a rhythm easy enough to fall into without thinking. My other hand settles against her waist, fingers brushing the exposed skin where her dress dips. She lifts her free hand to my shoulder, fingertips just grazing the back of my neck. It’s a small touch, but it feels seismic.
“Everyone’s watching,” she murmurs like she’s trying not to get swept under.
“Let them,” I say as we start to move.
Slow steps that aren’t really steps at all, more like drifting around each other. She fits against me, as if the night rearranged itself until we lined up exactly right. For a few beats, neither of us speaks. The world shrinks to the heat where her hand rests on me, and the way her pulse flutters under my thumb, where I’m still holding her hand.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur.
She lets out a tiny laugh. “I’m aware.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she says instantly, and then she softens. “I’m afraid of… what this feels like.”
I tighten my hold, not to pull her closer, but to steady her and myself. We keep moving, orbiting something neither of us has the courage to name.
“I know what tonight has to be, but you don’t get to rewrite what happened between us and pretend I imagined it all.”
Her grip tightens, and for one suspended moment, she lets her body melt into mine in a way she’s too controlled to do unless something inside her slips first. “It felt real, and that scares me.”
I close my eyes because the ache in her voice is so raw it scrapes something open in me. “It scares me, too.”
The song dips into its final chorus, strings swelling around us like a slow tide. She lifts her head, and hereyes are glassy, not with tears, but with vulnerability so stark it feels holy.
“Kyle,” she says softly, almost like a confession. “I don’t know how to want something I can’t keep.”
“You don’t have to keep it,” I answer, my chest tightening so sharply it’s almost painful. “Just… don’t run from it.”
For a heartbeat, she doesn’t. She stays right there with me, letting the truth sit between us without shoving it away. Then the song ends, and the applause rises, breaking the spell. She swallows, shoulders trembling once before she steels them back into place.
“We should make our rounds.”
“Yeah,” I respond because I know she’s right.
Her hand stays locked in mine as we weave through the crowd. The ballroom hums around us—laughter, clinking glasses, the muted glide of gowns brushing marble—but none of it reaches me the way her fingers do. Every tiny adjustment of her grip threads straight into my pulse.
She’s quiet for a few steps. I know her well enough now to recognize the way her mind races behind her eyes, sorting the night into the parts she can control and the parts she can’t. I squeeze her hand once, and she exhales like she’s been holding her breath since the moment the music stopped.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
“For what?”
“For… not pushing me.” Her thumb brushes the side of my hand, the smallest movement. “I don’t know how to navigate this with you without messing something up.”
