She stood, her hand once again in mine, where it belonged if I had anything to do with it. She’d taken off her jacket, and I could see goosebumps on her arms. I could only hope they were from touching my hand again and not from being cold.
We navigated the crowd, excusing ourselves as we pushed through and found a somewhat empty spot on the dance floor. I pulled her in close, very slowly, waiting for her next move.
Still holding my hand, her other arm came up my chest and settled on my shoulder, so I slid my free arm around her waist. Taking a step closer, she looked up at me, her magnetic eyes shining like gems in the pulsing lights above.
We started swaying to the beat of a slow song that began just as we drew closer. I could feel the heat of her body and the softness of her hand, which I had now pulled up to sit over my heart.
As the band sang about feeling the beat, I prayed she couldn’t feel how hard my heart was beating. This was a dream. One I never wished to wake from. With a sigh, Leyla laid her cheek on my shoulder as we continued to sway together in a rhythm of our own making.
Even as the music picked up in tempo, we swayed as if no one else were around us.
Lowering my head, I spoke into her ear. “You’re a great dancer.”
I felt her smile without seeing it, but she didn’t answer. Emboldened, I drew her closer, my hand spreading on her back. When my fingers touched her soft, bare back, I had to close my eyes. The arm around my shoulder slid around my neck, and I was minutes from passing out. Or getting on my knees and begging her to be mine forever.
When a lively song came on, Leyla leaned away from me, her eyes lighting up in excitement. “I love this song. Can you dancebachata? It’s similar to salsa, but slower. Less spinning. More swaying.”
“I’m game if you are,” I said loudly, hoping to remember the steps.
The crowd had gone wild over the song, and we watched as a few couples who looked like professionals took over the dance floor. Trying to follow them, we moved around until we got the feel for it, our hips swaying to the beat.
As the music continued, we laughed at our mistakes and smiled when we got it right, joy on both our faces as we danced song after song.
“I think I need that water now,” she yelled sometime later. I nodded and led her away from the crowd toward a free table.
“Oh my gosh, I haven’t had that much fun in years,” she said, using a napkin to wipe her glistening face as she sat.
“Me either. Stay here, and I’ll go get us some drinks.”
Drinks in hand, I wove my way back to our table and had to stop to admire her as she sat. Flushed cheeks, a wide smile, hands in the air swaying to the salsa beat the band had started playing.
I couldn’t go on much longer like this. There was no denying my intense feelings for her, and it was only a matter of time before I confessed my love to her.
The fear of messing up what I was trying to build with her was starting to feel like an excuse. I hadn’t had a lasting relationship in years, and it was beginning to become clear why.
None of them was Leyla Cooper.
Handing her the cold bottle of water, her eyes closed as she took a long drink. “That feels amazing. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.” I took a long drink of my own. “I love seeing you like this. You look so happy.”
She put the bottle down and leaned in close. “It’s the company.”
When she leaned back, my heart pounded at a dangerous rate. Her eyes scanned mine, and my eyes dipped briefly to her lips and back to her eyes. She inhaled quickly, and that was my clue. Now or never, I thought, as I leaned toward her again.
“Leyla,” I said, with a loud swallow.
“Yes,” she breathed out.
“There’s, um, there’s something else I think I might need help with.”
She licked her lips, and I nearly fainted.
“What is it?” I took her hand in mine, letting her warmth give me courage.
“Well, you’ve helped me with ideas for subjects to talk about and with getting to know where to take a woman on a date.”
Her eyes lowered to my lips, then returned to my eyes. Was I trembling, or was that her?
