I freeze—not because I’m scared, but because I don’t know what to do with this. With him. His nearness. His warmth. His restraint.
My body has learned to respond to Jacob—the way my pulse stutters when he leans close, the reflex that tightens my hands. But right now, in this stolen moment, I tell myself this is my decision: I will dance with this man—the man who showed up when I least expected. When I needed to feel something other than possession and pain.
I’ll sway to the music because I want to, not because I’m told I have to.
He rises to his full height again, slowly. My head barely reaches his chest—I can feel the heat coming off him in waves.
Under his musky cologne, he smells like rain on concrete and a trace of sweat—the kind that settles into cotton and skin after a long, hot day. Real. Unfiltered. Nothing like the crisp, manicured scent of Jacob’s cologne.
“I’m not trying to be anything to you,” he whispers, rocking us gently to the beat.
“Just a guy who wants to dance with the prettiest girl in the room.”
I let out a shaky breath. “But Jacob?—”
His hand runs from my waist, his finger positioned in front of my lips. “Shh,” he whispers, eyes never leaving mine. “Right now, darlin’, it’s just you and me.”
He moves his hand to the side, using his fingers to brush some stray hair behind my ears. Goosebumps trail after his touch, leaving me wanting to feel more of his gentleness.
“You talk like someone who wants trouble.”
He grins—that crooked, boyish thing that shouldn’t work butdoes. “Trouble’s already here, sweetheart. Might as well dance with it.”
I almost laugh. Almost.
Instead, I shift closer—resting my cheek against his chest. Not to tempt him, but to hide. Just for a second. Just long enough to forget where I am. To forget how fucked up I am because of Jacob. His hand comes up and brushes up the nape of my neck. No one’s ever touched me like this. Not without demand. Not without ownership.
Just... human.
My ribs ache from holding in too much breath. When I finally exhale, he leans close and whispers against my ear, “Tell me when it’s too much.”
I nod. But I don’t let go.
We keep dancing. No fancy moves. Just a slow sway that lets us blend into the background. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I can feel Jacob’s eyes on us—cold as the ice in his untouched drink.
Benny doesn’t push conversation. Doesn’t ask questions he has no right to. He just holds me, like I don’t owe him anything. When the song ends, he pulls back slightly, giving me an out.
“You wanna go sit, or...?”
I hesitate, not because I’m scared—but because I don’t want this dance to end. I know if I stay much longer, Jacob will unleash a hell on me that I might not survive.
“I should probably sit,” I say.
“Alright.”
He lets go, easy as that.
“Thanks for the dance, Summer.”
My name catches me off guard. “I didn’t tell you?—”
“You didn’t have to,” he winks, before turning away and climbing back onto the stage.
I glance at Jacob. He’s sitting back at the table, jaw tight. My stomach lurches, but beneath the dread, something else flickers—a dangerous thrill.
I feel seen. I feel awake. I feel... guilty. The music quietens. Theapplause fades. The warmth of Benny's hands clings to my waist—a ghost I already know will haunt me. I want to turn back to him but I walk toward Jacob instead, each step heavier than the last.
