Page 10 of Business Casual
I blow out a slow breath. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”
“Enough to make me feel warm and fuzzy, but not enough to have me asking for things I don’t want.” She pats my chest once, a resigned look on her face. “It’s okay, Charlie. We’re going to finish this dance. I’m going to go find something else to drink. And we will never discuss this again.”
My hands tighten against her. I do not like that plan.
“Nova—”
“Please,” she whispers, eyes still carefully averted from mine. “Please, can we not?”
I give her a jerky nod, but my mind is still racing. My thoughts slip through like tiny grains of sand, slowly piling up until I feel overwhelmed. My brain is excellent at catastrophizing. I spin us around, one thought screaming louder than the rest.
“Are you going to find someone else?”
“Hmm?”
The song plays out its final slow notes, a lone trumpet echoing out over the field. I panic. I’m not ready to let her go yet.
I nudge us farther into the trees until shadows are clinging to our ankles.
“Are you going to find someone else?” I ask again.
She loosens her hold on me but stays in my grip. “For what? A drink?”
Now I’m the exasperated one. “To go home with you.”
“Ah.” Understanding lights her eyes and her lips twist to the side. “Maybe—”
“Don’t.” I cut her off. If I see her talking to Jimmy from the bar or Alex from the bookshop, I will lose my actual shit. I scratch my hand over the back of my head roughly and try to organize the scattered pieces of myself. I have no right to ask anything of her, I know, but the idea of her asking someone else what she just asked me has me borderline murderous.
God.
She broke my damn brain.
She crosses her arms over her chest and arches a single, imperious eyebrow. “Any particular reason why I should let you dictate what I do and don’t do?”
“I’m not trying to dictate anything. I’m just—” I drag one hand over my face and curl my hand around my jaw. I won’t be able to stand it if she sidles up to goddamn anyone else at this wedding. “You wouldn’t want to miss the cake,” I point out half-heartedly.
“The cake,” she repeats.
“Yes, the cake.”
“The cake that has been out for almost an hour now.”
“It’s going quick.” I wince. I sound like an asshole. An idiot asshole.
She scoffs and steps into my space. I try to back up, but I’m standing right in front of an evergreen. The needles scratch roughly at thebacks of my arms. One rogue branch slaps me across the back of the head. It feels like immediate karmic retribution.
Nova digs one finger right into the center of my chest. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Color blazes in her cheeks. Anger this time, instead of embarrassment. She pokes me again. I am a bizarre combination of scared and turned on. I hold up both hands, palms up. “I know.”
“Especially after you said no.”
“What? I didn’t say no.”
“You said no.”
“I did not. You didn’t even let me answer the question.” I curl my hand around the finger digging into my chest and pull our hands to the side. “If you’d like an answer, ask me again.”
