Goosebumps race across my skin, and it takes everything in me not to react to his nearness.
I turn and look up at him, forcing a smile.
“It’s not necessary,” I say calmly. “I know ballet isn’t really your thing.”
“Just as friends,” Tank says quietly. “Nothing more, Abigail.”
It feels like the entire compound holds its breath while I work through that.
Should I let him escort me? Wouldn’t that technically be a date?
My heart races at the thought alone. I’ve wanted this for so long.
Then the memories surface.
Rejection after rejection after rejection.
What if, after thisnot-a-date friend date, he tries to kiss me? Would I stop him? Would I evenwantto?
Is it too soon?
I can’t let myself fall back into obsession. If I let him in…even a little…and he changes his mind again, it would destroy me.
And yet… who am I kidding?
I’ll probably always love the big, stupid idiot.
But sometimes love isn’t enough.
He says he loves me, but words are easy. Actions aren’t. And his actions for years were the exact opposite of love.
So no.
I won’t let him escort me. He can tag along. He can sit with the men. But I won’t walk in with my arm tucked into his elbow.
Squaring my shoulders, I open my mouth to tell him exactly that.
“Yes.”
Wait… What?
Who the heck is controlling my mouth?
“Thank you, babygirl,” Tank says, smiling like I just handed him the moon. “I won’t be but a minute to get ready.”
I stare after him, stunned.
“I’m going to ask Mike if he can watch Asher,” Spike says. “Since he’s already keeping an eye on Bree and Micah. I’ll be back in a few.”
“How the hell are we fitting everyone into this damn van?” Skip mutters. “You ladies are going to have to sit on laps.”
Absolutely not.
Nope.
That is where I draw the line.
There is no universe in which I’m sitting on Tank’s lap.
