Chapter 8: Ask Me Again

I put my hand in his.

My shoes squelched with red wine when I stepped out of the puddle.

Nobody laughed at that.

Nobody was laughing at anything anymore.

He led me to the center of the floor, where Bianca was still standing with her arms half raised.

She dropped them.

Lucian put his hand on my back, just above the low edge of my friend's dress.

His palm was warm through the satin.

The quartet leader looked at Gordon Slattery for permission.

Gordon's face had gone the color of his pocket square.

Lucian looked at the quartet leader.

The quartet leader started playing.

We danced.

I'm not a good dancer.

It didn't matter, because he was, and he held me close enough that I only had to follow.

Around us four hundred people whispered at once.

It sounded like rain.

[I'M LOSING MY MIND.]

[This is the first dance. THE FIRST DANCE. At HIS engagement party. With the cannon fodder.]

[Bianca's face. Screenshot Bianca's face.]

I didn't look at Bianca's face.

I looked at his collar, because I couldn't look at his eyes yet.

"You didn't have to do that," I said.

"Yes, I did."

"They'll write about it."

"They were going to write about it anyway." His voice was low, just for me. "Now they'll write it right."

We turned, and I caught a glimpse of Jake by the bar.