I caught up with him and stopped thinking about anything else for a moment, letting myself be carried away by the rhythm and beat of the music. Even if I was tired, a good beat and a great song could carry me further than my body thought it could go.
But the song we’d entered the dancefloor on ended and a new track started – and Xavi looked at me with such a crestfallen expression that I had to fight the urge to move closer and hold him.
I understood why.
A slow song, meant for couples.
But we were a couple, weren’t we? Even if it was fake, we still had an image to uphold.
I reached out a hand towards him with a raised eyebrow, fixing him with a smile so he knew that I was being serious. Why shouldn’t I dance with him? That was what boyfriends did. We didn’t want to blow our cover.
He took my hand and I had to fight not to tremble slightly at the importance of that touch, and I pulled him closer, resting my other hand on his hip. My cane dangled from my wrist. I took care not to hit him with it, but for the moment, I didn’t need it.
I could rest my weight on him.
We slowly spun together, carving a circle in our own space in the bar. I couldn’t see anyone else around us. Didn’t care. Given this was a gay wedding, it was one place I could be sure that we wouldn’t be getting disgusted looks from the other guests, so I let myself just drift, my head over Xavi’s shoulder. He was warm pressed up against me, both of his arms slipping up around my neck as mine held his waist. He was quiet, head down and tucked in against me, and for the longest time, there was only us and the music and the gentle sway of our bodies.
He lifted his head and looked at me, and what I saw was pure Xavi – bare in his eyes in front of me, like he’d finally stopped pretending.
I saw want and need. Insecurity and anxiety. Pain and shame and desire and fear. He was asking me a question without saying a word.
If I answered, it had to be real. I had to mean it. Anything less would be cruel.
I leaned down and met his lips, pressing mine against them, feeling a shudder run through his body at the contact.
His lips parted under mine and I answered, kissing him more deeply, adjusting my hold on him to bring him closer. I was dimly aware that we had stopped moving, only our mouths and heads swaying together now, the music forgotten.
But…
I ended our kiss gently, pulling back from his seeking mouth, waiting for his eyes to open again. There was a dazed look to them for a moment. Too dazed. Too much.
“Xavi,” I whispered, with a groan, my voice little more than a sigh.
He swallowed hard. “Sorry,” he said. “I guess you don’t want to go too far in front of your friend.”
I shook my head. He wasn’t getting it. “That barely matters,” I said. “I told you. I’m leaving town soon.” He couldn’t get attached like this. Not when we both knew I was going. It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t let him be dazed by me.
It was like a shutter came down over his face. “Right,” he muttered, pulling out of his arms. “I remember.”
And he stalked away towards the tables, leaving me to stand and stare after him, fumbling to get my cane back into my hand properly so I could follow.
Xavi
I turned my back on Rowe, walking to the tables, closing my hands into fists, and letting my fingernails bite into my palms. I could taste bile in my mouth, not the sweetness of his kiss that had flooded me a few minutes ago.
I had to walk away to stop myself. To keep my mouth shut.
Because I knew what I would say to him if I didn’t hold myself back.
I don’t care if you’re leaving. You don’t kiss that well, anyway! Who do you think you are, hot shit? I could get so much better than you and I wouldn’t have to pay. You’re just my little charity case.
The words burned hot in my brain, making me feel sicker. That’s what I would have said a week ago. That’s what I would have said yesterday.
But spending the day with Rowe…
I didn’t want to bite back at him that way. But something in me couldn’t let him see. Couldn’t reveal my weakness – that I cared for him and I didn’t want him to go, that the kiss had meant something to me even if it didn’t to him. All of the kisses. Every single one.
I couldn’t let him see how much I was hurting, but I didn’t want to lash out in the reactionary way I always did. The only option left was to turn away, put those walls back up where they were supposed to be, and make sure he couldn’t read a thing in my face when he caught up with me.
