Page 67 of Floored (Frenched 3)
“I’d be delighted, Mr. Dwyer.” Rising to my feet, I set my glass down and offered my hand. Charlie led me to the middle of the room, where other couples swayed in the softly glowing dark.
He held me close, an arm tight around my back, his chin pressed to my temple. I closed my eyes in blissful happiness for a moment, breathing him in. When I opened them, I noticed Mia watching us from across the room, a knowing smile on her face.
All night long Charlie was the perfect date—OK on his own when I had to do bridesmaid duties, charming and relaxed with everyone, gallant to a fault with me. When Coco tried to rearrange things at the last minute so that he could sit with me in the dining room, he insisted on having dinner on the porch with the rest of the non-wedding-party guests.
I missed him the entire time, and scarfed my food at record speed to finish faster and get back to him.
“Christ,” Mia whispered. “There are sparks flying from your fork. Anxious, are you?”
I laughed. “Yes. I’m having a lot of fun with Charlie tonight. He hasn’t annoyed me once.”
“That’s good. So what’s the deal with you guys? Still just friends?”
I forked another piece of chicken piccata. “Last night I would have said yes. But I don’t know…tonight feels different for some reason. And Thursday night at Cliff Bell’s, he kissed me in this totally different way.”
“You went to Cliff Bell’s?”
“Yeah, after the ballet. I haven’t had a chance to tell you about that yet.” I shoved the chicken in my mouth.
“The ballet?” Mia rolled her eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Erin. That’s dating. You guys are dating. You might as well admit it.”
I shrugged and swallowed. “I don’t know what we’re doing. But I really like him.” A hand came down on my shoulder. I looked up—it was Coco, looking desperately uncomfortable.
“I have to pee so bad,” she said. “I need help with the dress, though. Come with me?”
Mia and I followed her to the master bathroom upstairs. We each lifted one side of her dress, under which she wore—in true Coco style—silk stockings and a garter belt attached to a body-hugging slip.
“What the hell is that?” Mia shook her head. “It looks medieval.”
“It’s keeping all my lu
mps and bumps in place, thank you very much.” She lowered herself carefully onto the toilet and looked up at me. “OK, speak. What’s up with you and 21 Jump Street? He can’t take his eyes off you.”
My face heated. “I don’t know.”
“Are you still just friends?”
“No,” Mia said emphatically. “They are dating.”
“We’re more than friends, I think,” I admitted. “But I don’t know what, exactly.”
Coco stood up and leaned back to flush. “And you like him? Trust him?”
“Yes. I mean, I think so, but I have to be careful, you know? I don’t have the best luck with guys.”
Mia and Coco exchanged a look as we lowered the sides of her dress.
“What?” I said defensively.
“Nothing,” Mia said quickly. “It’s just that I don’t think you can compare this to your past relationships.”
“What do you mean?”
“She means that you don’t have bad luck. Everyone knew Tony was gay. And you probably knew it too.” Coco soaped her hands briskly at the sink.
My mouth fell open. “What? I did not know it.”
“Well, you should have.” Coco met my eyes in the mirror. “I’m sorry, and you know I love you, but it was totally obvious to everyone fairly quickly that he wasn’t going to be the one, because he liked boys better than girls.”
