“Dance with me,” he says.
It’s not really a question even though I’m sure I could say “no.”
I don’t really want to though. I won’t hesitate at an excuse to be pressed up against this man. And no amount of awkwardness about the setting will change that.
The dance floor feels like a different world, set apart from the noise and movement of the rest of the room. Everything is slower here; the music, the conversations, and even my breathing as his hand settles at my waist and mine finds his shoulder.
We move carefully at first, like we’re both aware of how close we are and what that closeness means.
“I don’t belong here,” I admit quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
His thumb shifts slightly against my side, a small, grounding motion. “Neither do I.”
I glance up at him skeptically. “That’s a lie.”
“It’s not.”
“This is your world.”
His gaze fixates on mine, something distant flickering in his expression. “It’s my father’s,” he says. “Not mine.”
I guess he’s right after all; he was adopted into this. The world he chose is the one where he hunts down bad people and puts them away.
This is his world as much as making mac and cheese alone in my foster home is mine.
“The fanciness isn’t my thing. I’d rather be anywhere else,” he adds after a moment.
“Even now?” I ask.
His hand tightens just slightly at my waist. “Not this time. This is the only place I want to be.”
My breath stutters, and for a second, the rest of the room fades away entirely.
“I keep thinking about that night,” he admits quietly.
“The crash?”
He nods. “You ran toward it.”
“That’s my job.”
“So is mine.”
I tilt my head slightly. “You don’t run towards mangled vehicles.”
A flicker of something crosses his face, something darker. “No,” he says. “I run toward what caused them.”
A chill moves through me, but I don’t pull away. Because I understand that now, in a way I didn’t before.
A photographer wanders nearby, taking pictures of random guests. Alex angles us out of view of the camera.
One of my brows tips up. “What’s that about? Don’t tell me you’re camera shy.”
“I’m not,” he says stiffly.
“Then are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”
“My boss just… doesn’t necessarily want me getting distracted while we’re working on this case.”
