Home > Darling, Dance with Me(8)

Darling, Dance with Me(8)
Author: Aisling Magic

“What?” My head whips to Remi. “Then who …”

“Lionel is the friend who brought the news home.”

We stay quiet for a few seconds, looking at Sarah and Lionel. Now that I know the story, I catch the faint wrinkles around Sarah’s eyes, the sadness in her smile, and the dry mist in her eyes. A few weeks ago, I thought what happened to me was horrible, but now, hearing these stories, I realize what happened to me was just a glimpse of heartache.

“Does anyone have a happy story here?” I ask, in need of a less somber story.

The tension looming on Remi’s face transforms into a beautiful smile. “Got sad, did you?”

I shrug. “I don’t react well to sadness.”

And the smile on Remi’s face dies. His intense gaze lingers on me, and then he shifts his focus to the other couples. “That one.” He points at a couple standing at one corner of the hall. By the way they’re looking at everyone but the person standing next to them, it would seem they’ve been fighting. “Marianne and Joseph. A few years ago, they married for love, but that seems to be missing from their marriage now, which is why Marianne signed them both up for the dance classes. And that’s the happiest story you’ll get here,” he says, his tone flat. With that, he leaves me and joins Nicholas, who entered the hall with a red-faced Candee trailing behind.

This does not look good.

Layla shouts for us to take our respective places. “Can I give him a kick in the ass?” Candee grunts, joining me.

I pray for patience. “No.”

“A tiny kick?”

“No, Candee, you’re not kicking anyone. And leave the poor man alone,” I chide, placing my hands around her.

“He thinks I didn’t hear it, but he muttered little horror under his breath as soon as he saw me and started running. He didn’t even pretend to walk fast. He ran.”

#HeCallsHerLittleHorror

 

 

SEVEN


#YouAreMyHero

I look up and groan at the dark clouds gathering. Great. It just had to rain the day I’m not carrying an umbrella with me.

Looking at the flimsy wrap around the book under my arm and back at the heavy clouds, I start to run, along with others around me. The new book of my favorite author Susan Elizabeth Philips, “Dance Away with Me,” released yesterday, and there’s no way I’m letting my new, shiny paperback get wet.

Tiny droplets hit my cheeks, and I still have thirty-one blocks to cross. Even though back home my only exercise was running, there’s no way I’ll make it to the dorm on time. I round the corner and collide with a hard surface. The impact makes me slip, and the surface grabs my arms, pulling me up.

“Watch it!”

Remi.

He helps me gain my footing and releases his grip on my arm. “Hey,” I breathe.

A soft smile appears on his face. “Hey.”

And just because the Almighty is having fun—it starts pouring. People on the streets scamper, trying to find a spot to hide.

“No,” I whine, quickly placing my book on my chest and covering it with both hands. Seeing the book, Remi backs us to the wall so that the rain doesn’t hit us directly.

“Give it to me,” he says, releasing the strap of his backpack from his shoulder. A bag—thank God. I hand him the book, and he drops it in his bag, zipping it.

“Thanks. You’re my hero,” I say, releasing an appreciative sigh.

He looks at me for a few seconds and runs a hand over his forehead, sweeping his wet hair back, away from his eyes. “Er … I live nearby,” he says, looking down at my T-shirt and back at me. “You could wait there until the rain subsides.” He shrugs, looking at my drenched T-shirt again.

His place?

While I debate whether to accept his invitation, he removes his jacket and hands it to me. “Wear this.”

“Oh. Thanks, but I’m not cold. I’m good,” I say, rubbing my hands on my arm to lower the rising goose bumps.

He offers me a bemusing grin and leans closer. “Yeah, but you’re transparent,” he whispers, and my head drops down to see my thin white T-shirt sticking to my pink bra.

#PinkBoobs

I look up, mortified, but then find our faces merely inches apart. One second Remi and I are staring up at each other, and the next second, someone slams into his back, sending him forward. Our lips brush—shivers burst through me, and I gasp. I peek through my upper lashes to see his eyes growing darker. His hand lifts to my cheek—

“Um …” My throat makes a sound.

“I didn’t …”

Clears throat.

“No … No, of course—”

“… a mistake.”

Coughs.

“—knocked into me.”

Avoiding each other’s eyes.

“… means nothing—” I snatch the jacket from him, and I push at his chest to create a little distance between us. “Thanks,” I mumble, zipping the jacket.

“You’re welcome,” he says, strapping the backpack on his shoulders. We stand there for a few seconds in awkward silence. “So, you coming?”

I definitely didn’t want to be around him after our almost kiss, but then I take a last look at the sky, and my shoulders sag. This rain isn’t stopping anytime soon.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

***

When I agreed to come to Remi’s place, I didn’t have any expectations of how it would be. But right now, climbing the stairs of his apartment, the only color visible is brown. The flooring is brown, the walls are brown, even the ceilings are brown. With each step we take, the stairs creak, and you can hear what is happening in each household. The people here are not very silent.

Two flights of stairs later, we’re standing in front of his apartment. Considering the sight outside, I know the inside won’t be pretty, but when he opens the door—my jaw drops. From the door, I can see where his apartment starts and ends.

“Come.” He walks ahead, leaving me behind.

“Remi!” A little girl, I’d guess around eight years old, rolls her wheelchair at full speed toward Remi. Remi’s booming laughter echoes in my head as I see him drop to his knees, ready to stop the wheelchair. He grabs the wheels, making the wheelchair come to a screeching stop, and the little girl throws herself at Remi, giggling.

“Gotcha,” they say in unison, and the little girl giggles. It’s so infectious that my lips spread into a smile too. Still on his knees, Remi turns around to look at me, with the girl in his arms, sporting the widest grin I’ve seen on his face.

I love this look on him.

I stand there, allowing my heart to get lost in the amber eyes of this man. No, stop. Stop. That was not even a kiss. Don’t get all dreamy.

Is this his daughter?

Is Remi married? Is he a single dad? Damn, so many questions!

Remi shakes his head, the water in his hair falling on the girl, and she squeals in delight. The little girl meets my eyes, and the smile on her face fades slowly. She leans closer to Remi’s ear while keeping her gaze on me and whispers, “Who’s she?”

Remi’s smile stays in place as he holds the girl tighter and gets up on his feet. I notice her hands gripping Remi’s T-shirt with white-knuckled fists. She’s probably scared of being picked up.

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