Even the one shemighthave chosen was out of bounds. He had already paired up with some other person—though she doubted it would have mattered if he hadn’t. He was still a man. He was still tall and broad and probably aggressive, no matter how much he disguised it behind all of that soothing stillness.
The soothing stillness was probably just a front.
Though fuck, it really didn’t look like it.
The girl he was with seemed as nervous as a bird—more nervous than her, in truth. But that didn’t appear to faze him in the slightest. She accidentally threw the talking stick that Gray Plait handed out, and he just caught it effortlessly. As if the throw had been intentional, instead of a clumsy mistake.
At the very least, he made it seem like no big deal.
And the way she was chewing her hair—that was no big deal either.
He didn’t look at it. He didn’t draw attention to it. He didn’t ask her to stop. Instead, he waited patiently for her to relax enough to let it go.
But it was something else she really noticed.
He kept his hands in his pockets, the whole time. Other guys in the room—they touched arms and shoulders and gestured wildly in the air. They invaded space, in a way they didn’t even seem aware of. Hell,shehadn’t been aware of something like that, before The Incident.
Now, it was all she could see or think about or feel.
And he didn’t do itone single goddamn time.
It was like he not only created his own forcefield,but somehow built one around the girl, too. And oh, it was a sight to see. For a full minute, Lydia just watched him dance around that invisible barrier, always careful to avoid every possible arm brush or accidental touch.
Until finally, the girl tried to cross to him.
She was the one who put a hand out. She was the one who leaned forward. She even went to touch his arm in a way that made Lydia hold her breath.
But the breath holding was forhim.
It was all for him, somehow.
Not that he really needed it.
He was ready for that hand. He seemed to know it was coming—as if his awareness of everything around him was always turned up to eleven. And when it got within an inch of him, he did something so awesome it almost made her laugh.
He turned into that touch, so that it just sort of glanced by him.Then he made the girl look at something else, instead of focusing on the hand he’d just avoided.And he did it so effortlessly, so perfectly, so seamlessly that she could hardly stand it. To be so cool about it, to be so kind at the same time, to not compromise himself or offend her in one glorious move…
God, it made her gnash her teeth with envy.
* * *
She found her best friend asleep on the couch, in pajamas three hundred sizes too big for her. Her boyfriend Tate’s pajamas, Lydia guessed, but Tate himself was nowhere to be seen.Most likely, Letty had sent him to bed, so it could just be them. So they could talk, over the two mugs of cocoa Letty had already prepared. And sure enough, within moments, Letty was up, all sleepy eyed and big curls, questions at the ready.
“So how did it go?” she asked, as she handed Lydia a mug.
Though, it was obvious her friend already knew.
Letty’sleft leg was jiggling like crazy.
Lydia had to force a laugh into her voice just to stop said leg from flying off.
“About as well as I imagined in all of my worst nightmares.”
“So as bad as the counsellor who made you listen to Enya, then.”
“Worse.There was a circle of plastic chairs.”
Now the horror on Letty’s face was only pretend, thank god.
