‘Of course we will be,’ he said, dropping my hand and draping his arm around my shoulders instead. He pulled me in for a tender kiss on the forehead, which I had to say made me feel better about it all, temporarily at least.
‘Right, we’d better head off to get our train,’ said Mum, shifting in her seat.
‘Good idea,’ I said.
Once they’d gone, with promises of meeting up again soon (although not if I could help it), we were back at our table eating our semi-cold mains. Marcus had his arm around me, his fingertips making little circles on my bare shoulder.
‘You do know that wasn’t that bad,’ he whispered in my ear.
‘Maybe not for you,’ I said, trying to stay calm when all I could focus on was the feel of him on my skin.
‘They’re nice,’ he insisted.
‘You charmed them, that’s why,’ I said.
‘Am I charming you, Ava?’ he said, his breath on my neck sending shivers along my spine.
And then, before I could answer (how would I have, anyway?), and as if he thought he’d said too much, he pulled his arm away again and asked Patrick a question about tennis and the moment was gone.
Chapter Nineteen
After dinner, a swathe of discreet staff pushed the tables to one side, creating a more informal space for guests to mingle and dance. The champagne was still flowing and a band had set up, with a woman of about my age belting out everyone’s favourite hits from the last couple of decades in the most angelic voice. Everyone was dancing, even Marcus, even me – it wasn’t something I’d ever done as a child because Cassie didn’t like it and so none of us were allowed to get up on the dance floor at weddings and parties. Obviously, when I wasn’t with my family I didn’t hold back, but there was still something inside of me that couldn’t fully let go the way some people did. The way Marcus danced surprised me – I would have imagined him to be like me, a little self-conscious, holding back, but he was really going for it, his body moving easily to the beat, his arms in the air. It was the most joyful I’d ever seen him and it was catching – even Patrick was swaying his hips to the music, a contrast to the controlled and emotionally reserved man I saw out on court.
When the tempo dropped and the band played the opening bars of Rihanna’s ‘Stay’, I went to move to the side of the dance floor, but Marcus caught my arm.
‘Shall we?’ he asked, his gaze warm and relaxed.
‘I don’t know ...’ I said.
‘Come on,’ he said persuasively, holding out his hand. ‘Indulge me. Tomorrow I’ll be back to training and everything will be all serious again. Tonight I just want to have a good time.’
My eyes flitted around the room. Lots of people were dancing, it wouldn’t mean anything.
‘Dean would probably be upset with us if we didn’t,’ I said, letting him pull me with him into the centre of the wooden dance floor so that we were surrounded by lots of other couples, effectively making it feel as though we were cocooned and hidden from sight, even though there were cameras everywhere.
‘I love this song,’ said Marcus, twirling me around to face him and sliding his arms around my waist.
‘Yeah?’ I said, tentatively hooking my hands behind his neck, using the feel of him to give me stability.
We swayed in time to the music, our hips perfectly in sync. ‘You’re actually a really good dancer,’ I said.
Marcus laughed. ‘You seem surprised.’
‘It’s just that I’ve never slow-danced with somebody with actual rhythm before.’
‘Oh, I’ve definitely got that,’ he said, pulling me closer and swinging me around so that we were facing the opposite way.
Over his shoulder I could see what looked like a TV crew, their camera seemingly pointing right at us.
‘What’s going on?’ Marcus whispered in my ear.
‘Someone’s videoing us ...’ I said, burying my head in his shoulder.
Marcus swung me back around the other way.
‘There. Now you can’t see them,’ he said, as the music reached its rousing crescendo.
Instinctively, I wrapped my arms more tightly around him. It was risky – I could feel his body responding to my touch. In that moment, I didn’t care about all the other girls he’d beenphotographed with, or whether he’d had this same connection with all of them. I deserved to have some fun, didn’t I? I was dancing in the most exquisite room with a gorgeous man, and I was not going to ruin it by thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Nothing about it felt wrong, so maybe it wasn’t? When he slid his hand up my back, I imagined how it would feel if my dress wasn’t there, if he was touching my skin without anything in between. I shivered at the thought and acknowledged the truth to myself, there and then – I one hundred per cent did not have to fake liking him anymore.
