‘I saw it on a Beyoncé video,’ I explain over the revelry.
‘A what?’
‘Beyoncé!’ I repeat a little louder, but he doesn’t seem to hear me. ‘Shall I teach you the move?’
‘Sure,’ River says. ‘I can use it to impress the beautiful ladies back home.’
‘And maybe help you to find one to settle down with?’
‘Never!’ He scowls, lifting his chin, eyes flashing with humour.
‘Okay, so here’s how you do it – put your hands on the back of your hips and just do a sort of infinity sign with your hips, but also be bending your knees.’
‘Like this?’
I burst into laughter, doubling over as River does an extravagant hip circle, so out of step with his general rugged, tough-man stature. He’s concentrating so hard that his tongue pokes out the corner of his mouth.
‘Hmm, yeah, I’m not sure you should be doing that in front of anyone back home, let alone the beautiful ladies.’
‘What? You mean this isn’t hot?’ River embellishes the move with some fist pumps, and I find myself laughing so hard, I can’t catch my breath.
When the music switches to ‘After the Love Has Gone’ by Earth, Wind and Fire, everyone not in a couple leaves the dance floor with a disappointed groan at the change of pace.
‘Okay if I take you in a little closer?’ River asks.
‘Yes.’
As soon as River presses his body against me my heart starts to thud. Really thud. I wonder if he feels it too because he halts slightly, eyebrows dipping into a frown, before clearing his throat and spreading his palm across my lower back. I immediately tense at the heat of his touch.
I peek up at him. Yep. He has noticed the stiffening. Definite tension. Which … science. It’s just science. It doesn’t mean anything real. And while I look very nice tonight in my silver dress with my hair all swishy, it does not escape my notice that River is in a whole other stratosphere of attractiveness compared to me. He will always be the hottestperson in any room. I’m warm at best. Plus, as he said,I ain’t his type. And anyway, he’s not my type either.Henryis my type.
Henry. The whole reason we’re here. Shit. I’d almost forgotten that this whole dance was supposed to be making Henry jealous. I peer around the crowd to see if he’s watching us, if it is in fact making him jealous. Huh, I can’t see him anywhere. Where is he? I stop dancing and take a step back from River to stand on my tiptoes. I scan the area – there’s Jim boogieing away with some fellow mystery authors, and there’s Zo, flirting hard with a publicist I know for a fact to be gay. But no Henry. ‘Where did he go …?’
I catch a flash of purple out of the corner of my eye. I glance over to the wooded area on the other side of the clearing, but whatever I saw has gone.
I pad slowly across the dance floor, weaving through the dancing couples, moving towards the darkened area.
‘He’s probably just using the bathroom, or …’ River trails off, eyes suddenly hardening as his attention snags on something to the far left of the woodland. I frown, following his gaze.
My heart tumbles.
There’s Henry.
Partially hidden behind a huge tree trunk, lit only by the glow of the moon.
Henry.
Kissing Marisol Keats.
Kissing Marisol Keats with an intensity that makes me feel like I’m intruding to witness it.
Kissing Marisol Keats like it’s not the first time he’s kissed her.
Oh.
No, no, no.
‘Oh Gertie,’ River says. ‘Are you—’
