He keeps looking at me and heat spreads through my chest as a blush creeps into my cheeks. I break eye contact, flustered by his attention. I can’t seem to stop myself from reacting strangely to him. It’s weird. I never do this around other guys. I mean, admittedly the guys I know aren’t as good-looking as Callan, but they’re cute. Still, he’s not for me. Even if what I said to Emilia about a man like Niko wanting to marry me was true, it’s not feasible. I want a man I have things in common with. I want to be comfortable with who we are together, not feel out of my depth. We’re just not in the same social classes. No, the woman that Callan has in his life would wear designer clothes and most certainly doesn’t cut her own hair in her bathroom mirror. Her father is likely not a cook at a no-name restaurant, either. I can almost guarantee this man has never set foot in a place like that.
After ordering our food, the conversation goes to graduation. While Niko and Emilia are chatting about it, Callan turns to me.
“Are you graduating, too?” he asks, slightly turning his body to face me.
“I am,” I admit. “We’ve been in the same class since elementary school. That’s also how long we’ve been best friends.”
“Yes, we have,” Emilia agrees. “If it hadn’t been for Zoe, I never would’ve made it through school. I hated boarding school.”
“Why did you hate it? It’s the best school in the U.S.,” Niko interjects.
“I was completely alone and separated from my father. Zoe was the only person I could depend on.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You can depend on me. You only need to ask,” Niko says intensely, making Emilia blush. “What are your plans now that you’re graduating?”
“I wasn’t aware I could make plans,” Emilia says, lifting an eyebrow.
I sputter on my drink of water, quickly covering my mouth with the cloth napkin as I give her a wide-eyed look. She just lifts her chin defiantly as she waits for Niko’s answer. Callan seems to fight a smile. I take a deep breath as his attention is off me and he’s watching the others.
“What do you mean?” Niko asks, frowning.
“I assume since I’m supposed to marry you, it’s not like I can make plans.”
Her comments make his frown deepen.
“Just because we are getting married, doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to make plans. I want you to be happy.”
“What if my plans are not to get married?” Emilia asks. The tension between them rises to an uncomfortable level. I reach across the table and pat my friend’s hand in support. Even though I think she will be happy marrying him, it doesn’t mean she should do it quietly. She should be able to voice her opinion.
Callan clears his throat, pushing back his chair as he stands. I think he’s about to excuse himself when he holds out his hand to me as Niko and Emilia are locked in a staring contest.
“Would you like to dance?” Callan asks.
“Our food hasn’t come yet,” I tell him, reaching for any excuse.
“That’s why it’s the perfect time to do so,” Callan says, his hand still extended out to me. “We can give Niko and Emilia time to talk.”
I look across at my friend, and she nods in agreement. I’m hesitant to take his hand, but I finally do.
As I start to follow him, I can’t help but be super in tune to the touch of his hand on mine.
“I don’t see a dance floor,” I tell him.
“That’s because it’s on the roof,” Callan says.
“You realize you know nothing about me. There’s a big chance that I can’t dance and I’ll walk all over your feet,” I tell him.
He turns to grin at me. “You can do whatever you want to me.” His words have me swallowing nervously.
“I don’t like men who openly flirt,” I mumble, speaking my thoughts out loud more than I am telling him.
“That’s good because I’m not flirting.”
“What are you doing then?” I ask.
“Just speaking the truth,” he says with a mischievous smile, which has the butterflies in my stomach doing somersaults.
I sigh, knowing I’m in trouble. I should never have agreed to dance with him.
Chapter 5
Callan
She’s doing her best to help maintain small talk and is extremely nervous around me. You’d have to be blind not to notice and I like that she’s not practiced and methodical when it comes to being around a man. There’s none of the coyness and fake laughter I normally see in women. I’m enjoying myself immensely as we move around the dance floor. When the song turns slow, I pull her into me, trying to keep my hand at the small of her back. I want to make a good impression, but her curves are like a siren’s call, luring me in. I love having my arms around her way more than I anticipated. Her soft floral perfume tickles my nose as we sway to the song.
“I was expecting to have a horrible time tonight, but instead, find that I’m having the best night of my life,” I tell her, cutting into the lull of conversation between us. I can’t seem to stop wanting to talk to her.
She pulls back a bit to look up at me with her bluish-green eyes as her brow crinkles.
“Do you know how to have a normal conversation with a woman?” she asks incredulously.
“What do you mean?” Her defenses should be off-putting, but they only add to my desire for her. She’s not easily swayed, and I find I like that.
“Every other sentence out of your mouth is a line.” She gives me a look as if prompting me to argue, and I take the challenge.
“You’re wrong there. I’m not feeding you a line, and in fact, I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
Zoe studies me for a long while. I watch her pupils dilate and hear her breath hitch.
“And that was another line,” she says, drawing the word out, chastising me.
“Who taught you to be so defensive?” I question, watching her eyes cloud. It’s almost as if her thoughts go to somewhere far away before she shakes her head. I frown because I don’t like the idea that she was hurt, but I hate the thought that some other man being special to her even more.
I pull away from her, taking her hand and leading her away from the dance floor to the patio that overlooks the ocean. The salt air fills my lungs as we get to the railing that follows along the line of the roof. The dance room’s walls are all glass and that allows the lights to filter out in a rainbow of colors. The open area we just walked through is one giant door that lifts like a garage door but recedes out of sight completely, leaving the space open and inviting.
This isn’t my usual type of space. Niko and I weren’t born into this life, yet with Zoe next to me, I find that I feel like a king. I watch her as she takes in the view and smiles.
“I know you don’t know me, but eventually, you’ll understand that I don’t operate in the way you’re accusing me. I legitimately want to spend time with you.”
She looks at me for a second before asking the dreaded question. This could be a make or break with some women, and I don’t like that she wants to pick apart my answers.