He smiled again, endearingly embarrassed. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable with the staring. Um, you are…” His eyes skimmed down my polyester tracksuit before popping back up to my eyes. “Absolutely beautiful.”
My heart tripped in my chest. Amanthought I was beautiful? I had no idea what to say. I could hardly think. “Oh. Thank you.”
“And your solo tonight was stunning.”
I dared to glance at him again. “Thank you. I—I love to dance.”
“I came to watch my niece, but…” He scrubbed a hand over his face as he huffed a soft laugh, the sound so self-deprecating that my heart melted a little. “I couldn’t look away from you.”
A deep blush rose in my cheeks. “That’s—very kind.”
“Your passion for dancing is obvious. I hope this doesn’t come across too forward, but I noticed you were crying during your solo.”
I laughed, spreading a hand over my face. “Oh, gosh. Yeah, that’s kind of embarrassing.”
“No, it was incredibly moving. Honestly, you made all the other performances look rather…stiff and lifeless.”
I couldn’t hold my smile back if my life depended on it. “I do get emotional when I dance sometimes. It feels silly, but…I don’t know…” I shrugged. “I guess it helps me process or feel or something.”
“That’s not silly at all.” He smiled. “Taking a nice, long run helps me process. We all need something that helps.”
I let my gaze run over him. He was lean and the edges of his shoulders pulled against the navy Ralph Lauren Polo sweater he wore. He noticed my perusal, smirking slightly when my eyes met his again.
“Do you also cry when you run?” I asked.
He laughed, a sound as rich as dark chocolate. “Only after leg day.”
I laughed then. “I hate leg day, too.”
His attention dropped to my legs, the micro-lift of his eyebrows sending heat barreling through my midsection. Dragging his gaze away, he asked, “So, did your boyfriend get to see you up there tonight?”
I bit the inside of my lip, not missing his cue. “Oh, I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Really? That surprises me. I figured these boys would be all over you.” His gaze cut to my friends, specifically Lee—the tall, dark and handsome one.
Finding some courage, I said, “Nope. I’ve never had a boyfriend, if you can believe it.”
He stilled, his expression blanking. But he suddenly smiled again, his tone teasing. “You’re lying.”
I laughed, lifting my drink to my lips. “Think what you want, I guess. But I’m being honest.”
His gaze cut away from me, his cheek feathering. For a moment, he stared off at my friends, like he was making some sort of calculation. In the beat of silence, I didn’t know what to say. I took a long sip of my drink, hoping he would ask something before I finished.
His eyes were serious when he looked back at me. “So, tell me about yourself. When did you start dancing?”
“I was six. My parents started me in ballet, but I learned pretty soon that I preferred jazz and contemporary better.”
“Were they there tonight?”
I looked to the ground. “Just my dad. And my siblings.”
“Your Mom really missed out.”
I laughed, waving off his concern. “No, I asked her not to come.”
He swallowed, his eyes boring into mine. “Sounds like a story.”
It was after midnight when I left the party. A soft beanie squished down my curls, and my heavy duffle strap pressed between my breasts. My tracksuit couldn’t protect me from the bitter Colorado winter, and the cold wind pushed through my skin like daggers.
