His smile is open. Friendly. A little eager around the edges.
He feels safe.
That should matter more than it does.
He smiles and walks over.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Saw you on the dance floor. You’ve got some serious moves.”
I laugh. If he thinks those are serious moves, he’s got issues. I suck at dancing. Capital S-U-C-K.
“My friends give me courage I’d never have alone.”
“You should,” he says. “Have courage alone, I mean.”
Okay. He’s not terrible.
Just… not it.
My drinks arrive. I reach for my clutch.
“Allow me?” he offers.
I nod. “Okay. But that’s not a promise for sex.”
He laughs, pays, and steps back.
I take a sip of the cocktail first.
Normal. Sweet.
Good.
I follow it with a long gulp of water, grateful for the cool slide down my throat. It settles something tight behind my sternum. Or I tell myself it does.
I turn away from the man without even catching his name. I should probably say thank you. I don’t. Guilt flickers and passes.
Levi reappears at my side, gives the guy a look, takes my elbow, and steers me toward the others.
“Dance break round two?” he asks.
“In a minute,” I say. “I need a breather.”
“That’s code for ‘I’m not twenty-five anymore,’” he teases.
“Rude,” I reply, laughing.
The man says something else—pleasant, forgettable—and I nod politely, my attention already drifting back to my friends. Jamie’s laughing at something Shannon says, hands animated, face flushed with the kind of joy that makes the night feel lighter.
Minutes pass. Maybe more. Time gets slippery when you’re observing.
Then the sound changes.
Not the song—the way it lands.
