“But that puts him on the spot,” I say. “He’s made it clear that he thinks this…us…is a bad idea.”
“You wanted him here tonight,” Whitney points out. “What did you think would happen?”
“I…” I sigh. “I don’t know. It’s not like I know what I’m doing. I told my sister I was going to seduce him. What the hell do I know about seducing anyone? Especially someone like David?”
Kaelyn grins. “Why is David a special case?”
“Because I’m pretty sure he’s used to women knowing what they’re doing,” I say with an eye roll.
“A confident woman who wanted to seduce a man would probably go ask him to dance,” Sloan points out.
“But if he says yes, it’s only because he’s nice and doesn’t want to turn me down in front of everyone,” I say.
“So you want him to say no?” Sloan asks.
“That would be so embarrassing.” I cover my face with my hands. “See? I did not think this through.”
“I’ll go ask him to dance,” Whitney says, sliding off her stool and adjusting her blue dress over her slim hips.
“And then what?” I ask.
“We’ll see what he says.”
“But then what?”
“Then we’ll dance,” Whitney says. “Or not, I guess.” She flips her long dark hair over her shoulder. “Though I have a pretty good track record.”
I grab her arm as she turns. “No.”
“No?”
“Don’t ask him to dance.” I can not be jealous of Whitney. My God, how stupid.
Yes, she's beautiful and confident and sweet and funny and...David would be stupid to not want to dance with her.
But I can't be jealous.
I still feel a little niggle of something that feels suspiciously like jealousy.
This night is starting to seem like a bad idea.
I got David here, and now I have no idea what to do. All of my options seem bad.
Maybe I should just go home. I'm reading a great romance right now. Or I could work on my fanfiction. For some reason, when I'm writing, I always know what to have the characters do.
Whitney gives me a little knowing smile. “Why not? I can ask him if he likes you.”
I roll my eyes. “We’re not in eighth grade.”
Whitney laughs. “Let’s just see if he’s even interested in dancing. Then we can see who he’s interested in dancing with.”
I sigh. I can’t keep David from dancing, just like I can’t make him dance.
“Fine, go ask him,” I say, letting go of her. “But don’t ask him about me.”
She nods. “Okay. Promise.”
I turn back to the table. Since David and his brothers are sitting behind me, I can’t watch what happens. I sip my drink, watch the dance floor where everyone else seems to be having a good time, and try to pretend I don’t care if David says yes to dancing with Whitney.
