Page 71 of Meet Me on Greenwood

"Uptight?"

"Measured." she smirked.

I gave her a wild spin, and she squealed before I brought her in close again. "I can have fun."

"I see that now," she said, her smile fading as she looked around. "This place, I never imagined—"

"I thought folks mixed more up north."

"They do. But still, groups tend to stick to their own. And those who don’t, well—"

I tightened my hands on hers. "Tell me."

Gema blinked her long eyelashes as if embarrassed. "Some men who seek out Black establishments only do so because they are—looking for an experience, not a person."

"Like trying kiwi?" I tried to joke, though I knew what she meant.

Her expression sobered. "Like women with curves, and curly hair, and full lips. Features that their wives—or fiancés—do not have."

The comment couldn’t be further from the truth and I would have told her so if I hadn’t been stuck gazing at her mouth. I couldn’t help myself. "Who doesn’t like those features?"

"Oh, men like them, but only when others cannot see."

"And do you think I’m that sort of man?"

She looked at me for a long moment. "I can’t decide," she began looking me up and down like I was a new species she’d yet to identify. "I saw you here with a woman on your arm."

"She comes with the table. I don’t know her."

"But you are engaged."

She had me there. "I am."

"And you are here dancing with me."

I sucked in a breath. "I like dancing with you."

Her face tightened, as if the next words were difficult to say. "I like dancing with you, too. That’s what I’m afraid of."

I leaned down. It was impulse, but our lips were only a breath apart. Before I could do anything, a round of clapping pulled us out of our trance.

I looked around to see people clapping in admiration of our dance, the instructor moving towards us, a tear in her eye. "Bravo, my dears! You make a beautiful couple."

Suddenly, the spell was broken.

Gema stepped back first, and the distance felt like a knife stabbing through me.

"Thank you," she said to the instructor.

The woman beamed, moving on to another couple. I stood watching Gema's face change as if she were wrestling with something.

"Gema—"

"I need to be alone," she said, and before I could respond, she was slipping through the edge of the crowd toward the corridor.

I hesitated briefly before deciding to follow. I couldn't help that either.

She finally stopped near the entrance of the hallway, one hand pressed flat against the wall, and breathing like she'd been running.