I march out of the restroom, my phone shoved back into my purse, to find Hale waiting for me in the hall. He’s leaning against the wall casually, his hands in his pockets, gazing off at some unknown point.
When he hears my heals clicking toward him, he turns.
“What’s wrong?” comes his immediate question.
I let out a long exhale and square my shoulders. “Absolutely nothing at all, Captain.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me, but he lets it drop and holds out his arm for me. “Shall we go dance, then?”
“What?”
“That’s what you mentioned earlier, right? ‘The public will totally adore you if they see you executing a flawless waltz.’”
“Wow, you remembered what I said verbatim.”
“It wasn’t a particularly complex thing to commit to memory.”
“You’re a real charmer, Cap. But, yes, let’s go dance.”
***
As it turns out, Hale is a great dancer. His motions are smooth and controlled, as well as incredibly precise. I barely even have to think as he guides me through a simple three-beat rhythm, letting us get swept away in the current of other dancing couples.
His hand on my waist is large but light, and in the other hand he holds mine with a surprisingly gentleness. I wouldn’t think that someone with muscles like his could be so dainty—in a totally masculine way, for sure—but I suppose Hale contains multitudes.
“Where did you learn to dance?” I ask as the music swells.
“YouTube.”
“Wait, really?”
“When I first attended this gala, I knew it would be an important skill to have.”
“How practical.” Then, because I’m too nosy for my own good, I add, “Who was your date to that first gala?”
Hale purses his lips at me for a moment, not amused by the prying. I bat my eyelashes at him mockingly, and maybe it’s just my imagination, or it’s possible that his lips are curving ever so slightly again.
“I brought my cousin, Rebecca.”
“Really? Your cousin?”
“She was going through a hard time and my aunt thought it might be helpful for her to get out of the house.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
He merely shrugs and guides me through an artful spin around another couple.
“What about the year after that?” I press. “Who was your date then?”
“Rita.”
“The EMT with the blue hair?”
“It was purple that year, actually.”
“Isn’t she, like, in her forties?”
“Are you being ageist, Lila Hart?”
