Page 16 of Embracing the Beat
Because despite my attraction to him, he only sees me the way Sawyer does.
We’re both silent for a moment, glasses held up awkwardly, when he snaps his fingers.
“I’ve got it. To new beginnings.”
The way he’s studying me as he says the words has my thighs squeezing together. Stupid body can’t get on board with the friends concept.
Can you blame me? He’s the smartest guy I’ve ever met and hotter than a grill on the fourth of July.
“T-to new beginnings,” I echo, tapping his glass with mine.
The liquid is cool and fruity, and I take several swallows before I put the glass down.
“You like?”
“It’s yummy.” I lick the residual sugar off my lips. “What about you?”
“My whiskey sour? You want a taste?” He offers me the glass, and I take it from him for a sip.
“It’s okay. I like mine better.”
“Good. I didn’t want to share anyway,” he teases, surprising another smile from me. He motions to a nearby open couch, and I grab my drink to follow him.
The heat of his leg against mine as we sit side by side is a vacation in the Caribbean after spending a winter in Greenland. I’ve spent the last year in a deep freeze, burying my thoughts and emotions deep, but his touch thaws me little by little. I feel more like myself than I have in the last eighteen months.
The smooth jazz piping through the speakers flows into my body, and I relax farther into the couch. Music is the only thing that has ever made sense to me. There’s something there, a connection that doesn’t exist for me with anything else.
“This place is missing a dance floor.” West’s words bring me back to the present.
“What?”
“You,” he says simply. “Your body has been moving to the rhythm of the song for the last few minutes.”
“It has?” I didn’t realize I had moved at all.
He nods, his gaze never leaving my face as he studies me.
“I was thinking about how I always felt connected to music in a way I never felt with anything else. The rest of the world is chaos, but music makes sense to me. It’s the only thing that ever has,” I admit.
“What do you mean?” He turns his body, curving toward me. His arm rests along the back of the couch and his fingers brush along my shoulder.
“I hated school. Words, numbers, all of it. Sawyer didn’t tell you?”
Why would he and West talk about my struggles with school?
“No. Tell me what?”
“I was nearly held back my sophomore year. Up until then, Mom and Dad always figured I didn’t like school. I didn’t, but no one knew why. Finally, one of my teachers asked to evaluate me for dyslexia. She had it and noticed some of the same symptoms she struggled with.”
“Dyslexia?”
I nod. “Dysgraphia too.”
“How did no one catch it sooner?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure. But I was good at hiding the symptoms. I just figured I was the stupid one in our family.”
“You’re not fucking stupid,” he grits out. “Jesus, did someone tell you that?”
