“Oh yeah, cause that won’t draw attention,” I sigh.
“Offer’s only being made once.” He was serious.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to,” I say, forcing him to be here is already a lot, and I don’t want him going out of his way the rest of the night.
“Don’t tell me you can’t slow dance.” He stares at me. The jab is harmless, but it settles against my chest because it’s not just that I don’t know how. I’ve never been asked. Brighton studies my expression, and his jaw tightens, but he extends his hand to me. I watch as his approach to the situation shifts. “You dragged me here tonight, the least you could do is stop being a coward and dance with your date.”
The tone he uses makes it clear that he reads me like a book, turning it around on himself—like I’m doing him the favor. I look down at his hand, scarred and having seen so much of the world, and it makes me terrified to take it. It shakes gently, a tremor he can’t control. He gives me grace and waits, but I can tell he’s trying not to fidget because his entire body is rigid.
“Take my hand, Hellcat.Please.”
When we finally meet eyes, the storm is gone, and his blue eyes are calm, waiting for me to take a risk, so I slide my hand against his with a tiny, nervous groan.
“Shoes?” He gives me an unimpressed nod, and I laugh, kicking them off. He scoops down and grabs them with his other hand before holding them out to Boone over the bar and leading me through the sea of bodies to the dance floor.
“Here.” He places my hand on his shoulder. “And here.” His other hand slides into mine, pressing our palms flat together. He pulls me closer to his chest and slowly starts to move his feet, giving me time to follow his feet as he glides us around in a soft circle to the music.
“Rhea, you have to let me lead,” he murmurs when I trip over him again.
“Sorry,” I grumble and try to pull back from him. “We don’t have to do this. It’s stupid.”
“It’s a square,” he says and tightens his hold on me. “Follow the play. One,” he ignores my protest to abandon the dance and side steps with one foot leading, “two.” He moves that same foot back, “three.” He steps to the other side and, on four, moves forward.
My movements start to become less clumsy, and eventually, we’re moving together in a smooth rhythm with many fewer mistakes.
“Where did you learn to do this?” I ask.
“Men are resourceful, Rhea, especially when they want to impress someone.” It’s meant to be nonchalant, but my muscles go tight at the thought of him doing it for a girl. “What?” he asks, noticing the shift.
“I guess, I just never took the Terminator for the kind of guy that would learn to dance to get laid,” I let out a tiny laugh, and his hand tightens around mine.
“Despite popular belief and vicious rumors,” he tilts his head down to catch my eyes, and I feel the heat rise on my neck. “I’m not made of cold metal and robot organs,” he smirks.
“Was that a joke?” I snort, and he spins us in a quick circle that leaves me struggling to keep up, but that's the point because his hand slips down my back and rests against the bare skin. I’m suddenly very aware of every scar, every callous that stains his palm, and I can barely breathe.
“Being able to dance doesn’t make me soft,” he explains, his eyes back to scanning the room around us. Always watching. At first, I thought it was him just being careful at the Hollow; things usually go wrong in a matter of seconds, and drunks can be unpredictable. But as I get to know him, I realized that it’s not that at all.
He watches for danger. It’s instinct. It’s the trained behavior of a man scared of the world.
“I never implied you were soft,” I tease, and he spins me around in the other direction.Brighton Black is anything but soft,my brain screams as I dig my fingers into his bicep to keep upright. All the shots and drinks are starting to get to my head, but the dancing is amplifying the dizzy feeling in my chest and head. “It’s a welcome surprise that you can dance. I’m sure that it’s a good party trick to get the girls.” I say with a small laugh. “Mission accomplished.”
“I learned for Daisy,” he says quietly, like it’s obvious, and I turn my chin up to look at him again.
“Oh.” The information catches me off guard in the most genuine way, and I hate how muted the music becomes in my ears when he meets my softened gaze with his own. His jaw ticks, and before he speaks again, his tongue wets his bottom lip. “I knew eventually she’d need me to know how, and I wanted to be prepared.”
“That’s much sweeter motivation than I expected,” I admit. “Maybe there’s a beating heart beneath all that metal after all.” I move my hand to poke his chest.
“Don’t tell anyone,” he says, grabbing my wrist to trap it against him and leaning my entire body back toward the ground in a low dip. “I have a reputation to uphold.” He pulls me back up against his chest as the music swells—and then he just looks at me.
I open my mouth to be an idiot. The liquor gives me the worst kind of confidence, but before I can say something stupid, he spins me outward toward where the girls have started to dance together again and lets go of my fingers before backing away into the crowd and disappearing.
Cosy’s brother offers to take the girls home at the end of the night, and as much as I don’t want him to, I nod. I didn’t come as Rhea’s date; I came as her friend, and I think I was successful in making sure that she had fun. My job for the night was over. I pull off the tie and toss it into the front seat of the truck with my jacket as Boone brings out a tray of leftover food and a couple of beers. I pop the tailgate for him, and he sets it all down before taking a step back, letting the silence settle for a moment.
“I don’t know why you cater this thing,” I say to him, popping the beer and handing it to him. He hates this gig more than anyone, forced to wear a tight black chef's coat that covers his tattoos and buttons uncomfortably at his throat. His hair is brushed back off his face, and he looks like a functioning piece of society.He looks like me.“We don’t need the money.”
“Mm,” Boone swallows a long pull of beer and scowls. We both know why he actually does, it’s to keep an eye on Kaia. “He got drunk tonight and was flirting with girls at the bar all night—in front of me.”
Boone lets go with a defeated laugh and downs the rest of the beer. “One of these days it’ll be me catching him doing something stupid instead of her, and I’ll kill him, Bri.”
