“Oh, uh,” I said with an awkward laugh, “just kinda spaced out.”
He took a moment to respond, and I didn’t like that. It meant he noticed something. “So, you have my hand in a death grip for fun? You’re not thinking about murdering me or anything?”
If only.My life would be simpler if that was what I was thinking about.
I looked at our hands and saw what he meant. I loosened my grip immediately. “No, I’m not,” I sighed.
He moved his hand from my hip, gently gripping my chin with his thumb and pointer finger. “Juliette,” he said softly. “What’s going on?”
It was the softness, the tenderness, in his voice that got me. I stepped back from his touch. I didn’t hear what Wes said after, because I was quickly weaving my way through the crowd to the back hallway.
The warm buzz from earlier in the night was long gone, but I still needed fresh air. I needed to clear my head. Because the softness in his voice hit deeply. Straight to my heart.
Right now, my heart was telling me I needed Wesley. And that just wasn’t going to happen.
28
WESLEY
It didn’t take long—maybefive seconds, at most—for me to pick my feet off the ground and follow after her. She only had a slight head start, but she was fast, even in those heels.
“Juliette!” I called out. Luckily, with my height, I was able to see her in the crowd and the direction she was heading—toward the back hallway that led to the bathrooms, my office, and the side exit. With a couple more long strides, I caught up to her, wrapping my hand gently around her wrist to stop her.
“Juliette,” I breathed. This woman was going to make me work for it, wasn’t she?
She turned, finally, and I expected to see fire in those green eyes. Instead, there was a sadness that gutted me.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” The term of endearment effortlessly slipped past my lips. It felt so natural.
She shook her head, still not saying anything. I moved us closer to the wall and used my body to block us from anyone passing by. Luckily, we were past the bathrooms, and people rarely came down this far.
“I don’t know what’s wrong. That’s the thing.” She exhaled. “Well, that’s not totally true. I guess what’s wrong is that I really liked dancing with you. And I’ve liked getting along with you.”
“And that’s a problem?” I could see it bothered her, but I wasn’t following.
“Yes!” she exclaimed. The sadness in her eyes instantly turned to frustration. I didn’t want her feeling either, and I wasn’t sure why I had this pull to make things better. “It was easier to dislike you when I thought you were some grumpy, selfish asshole. But now I know that while you might be grumpy and have your asshole moments?—”
“That asshole comment feels unnecessary,” I interjected.
“—you’re the farthest thing from selfish. You’reselfless, and you care so much. But, god, Wes,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “You have the world’s best poker face. I have no idea what you feel toward me, if anything. You said all these things when we were watching fireworks together, but did you mean any of it?”
How could she not realize she consumed my thoughts tonight? That when we danced, I didn’t want to let her go. Or how when she tipped her head back during that dip, all I could think about was kissing her perfect neck.
I knew I didn’t wear my emotions on my sleeve—I never had—but I didn’t realize I was that hard to read. I’d gotten so used to people in my orbit knowing me and being able to read me…and a part of me wanted Juliette to know me well enough to do that.
“Juliette,” I said with a chuckle, which made her scowl, “do you really not see it?” I took a step forward, and she took a step back, until her back was against the wall. But she stood tall, arms crossed over her chest, pushing up her breasts. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean. I meant everything I’ve said to you.”
She raised a brow. “Everything? What about when you said you didn’t want to be friends with me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes, you did,” she argued. “You said?—”
“That I didn’t think I’d be able to be friends with you. That I couldn’t.” I paused, watching her face as she remembered our conversation in my parents’ kitchen. “Because I didn’t think I could bejustfriends with you. I already knew then it’d be tough to keep my distance from you if we got too close.”
I let the words sink in, realization slowly flashing across her face.
“Ask me what I’m thinking about,” I urged.
