Page 62 of Don't Be in Love

“If you don’t mind, I need to find Dorian so I can make my announcement. I left that poor boy with my notes.”

Sabrina’s entire presence beside me crackled like a firework. I didn’t have to turn to see her blush.

“I’m going to find the bathroom,” I lied.

With haste, I made for the first balcony I spotted.

20

Don’t Dance with Him — Adelaide

One moment, I was checking my watch like I had a pumpkin carriage to catch, waiting for enough appropriate time to pass so that I could leave. The next, I was pretending to be interested in the man who entered the balcony after me to talk about the weather. Dreadful stuff. Doppler radar specific.

But I couldn’t escape. Not with Dorian out there.

Hence why, when he leaned into kiss me, I let it happen.

Both random, and uncalled for, I know.

It was fine. Nothing to write about in a diary with invisible ink. My cheeks were warm, but it wasn’t anything compared to Dorian’s grasp and Dorian’s urge and Dorian’s lips.

It was a distraction. Purely a distraction. A way to hide and not be bothered and not continue to look forhimin the crowd.

The frigid air nipped at my exposed back as the man deepened the kiss, tilting his head.

I’m not inebriated enough for this.

“Wait.” I pulled away before he could find a crevice of my mouth to explore. “I think I—”

A hand from behind grabbed onto my arm and pulled me out of the cold air and back into the ballroom before I could realize what was happening.

The hand was attached to a man with rich dark hair and clad in a well-fitted navy blue suit.

Along with a freckle at the back of his neck that I stared at three times a week.

“Dorian,” I whispered with fury. He kept going. We were almost at the center of the ballroom now. Voluminous dresses brushed against my ankles as pairs gathered for the music to begin again. I touched my face to confirm my mask was still in place.

He stopped once we were at the center, his hand falling on my back lightly. It was so much worse than just pressing deeply into my skin. Now I had to remain rigid and refrain from leaning into it. His other hand slipped into my right palm delicately, as if he was holding a pocket watch.

Then the music began, and my chest was against his.

No smirk or rebuttal. The bored look that was partially covered by his navy blue mask surprised me. No secret italicized message to infer.

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but I already had company,” I commented as the music rang.

“I don’t think he wanted your company anymore,” he responded matter-of-factly. “And I don’t think you wanted his, by the look of it.”

“Says the one who dragged me out here.” I narrowed my eyes.

The skin on my back cooled as his hand left. His thumb grazed my cheek as he lifted my mask up. He asked, “Are you questioning my intentions?”

I swatted his hand away and pulled the mask back down. “With a track record like yours, I think I am.”

He scoffed. “I think you’re the one with questionable intentions.”

“And how is that?”

“You show up here, despite rejecting my invitation, throw it in my face by kissing another man in this—this, I don’t even know if this counts as a dress—then you act like you don’t even know me.” He wouldn’t look at me. His gaze brushed my shoulder. “Frankly, it should be illegal for someone to wear a dress like this. This is an elegant event. It’s really not appropriate.”