Don’t Be in Love

20

Don’t Dance with Him — Adelaide

One moment, I was checking my watch like I had a pumpkin carriage to catch, waiting for enough appropriate time to pass so that I could leave. The next, I was pretending to be interested in the man who entered the balcony after me to talk about the weather. Dreadful stuff. Doppler radar specific.

But I couldn’t escape. Not with Dorian out there.

Hence why, when he leaned into kiss me, I let it happen.

Both random, and uncalled for, I know.

It was fine. Nothing to write about in a diary with invisible ink. My cheeks were warm, but it wasn’t anything compared to Dorian’s grasp and Dorian’s urge and Dorian’s lips.

It was a distraction. Purely a distraction. A way to hide and not be bothered and not continue to look for him in the crowd.

The frigid air nipped at my exposed back as the man deepened the kiss, tilting his head.

I’m not inebriated enough for this.

“Wait.” I pulled away before he could find a crevice of my mouth to explore. “I think I—”

A hand from behind grabbed onto my arm and pulled me out of the cold air and back into the ballroom before I could realize what was happening.

The hand was attached to a man with rich dark hair and clad in a well-fitted navy blue suit.

Along with a freckle at the back of his neck that I stared at three times a week.

“ Dorian ,” I whispered with fury. He kept going. We were almost at the center of the ballroom now. Voluminous dresses brushed against my ankles as pairs gathered for the music to begin again. I touched my face to confirm my mask was still in place.

He stopped once we were at the center, his hand falling on my back lightly. It was so much worse than just pressing deeply into my skin. Now I had to remain rigid and refrain from leaning into it. His other hand slipped into my right palm delicately, as if he was holding a pocket watch.

Then the music began, and my chest was against his.

No smirk or rebuttal. The bored look that was partially covered by his navy blue mask surprised me. No secret italicized message to infer.

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but I already had company,” I commented as the music rang.

“I don’t think he wanted your company anymore,” he responded matter-of-factly. “And I don’t think you wanted his, by the look of it.”

“Says the one who dragged me out here.” I narrowed my eyes.

The skin on my back cooled as his hand left. His thumb grazed my cheek as he lifted my mask up. He asked, “Are you questioning my intentions?”

I swatted his hand away and pulled the mask back down. “With a track record like yours, I think I am.”

He scoffed. “I think you’re the one with questionable intentions.”

“And how is that?”

“You show up here, despite rejecting my invitation, throw it in my face by kissing another man in this—this, I don’t even know if this counts as a dress—then you act like you don’t even know me.” He wouldn’t look at me. His gaze brushed my shoulder. “Frankly, it should be illegal for someone to wear a dress like this. This is an elegant event. It’s really not appropriate.”

He was flushed. It was comical. Dorian Blackwood was embarrassed .

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion but thanks for that. And also, I didn’t plan on coming,” I defended myself.

“Yet here you are.”

“I’m not happy about it either.”

“I’m glad we can agree on something.”

“Me too,” I responded firmly.

The violins plucked fast notes. I inhaled sharply as I was released and pulled back, my spine against his chest. I stared straight ahead, for something, someone to focus on that wasn’t Dorian’s face beside mine.

I caught James’s face in the crowd talking with Mia and Sabrina.

“Did James tell you I was here?” I asked.

“What?” He turned me back around.

“James—is that how you knew where to find me?”

“I didn’t need anyone to tell me how to find you,” he clarified. “I saw you leaning against the balcony. Your back is practically painted in my brain.”

Looking at him was a mistake.

I swallowed the emotions. Or at least I tried to. But my emotions were stubborn. Unwilling to go down. Because one look and I was falling back into our trysts. Into last night’s kiss. Into August’s night. Into every dream that had spoiled my thoughts.

The urge to kiss him was so potent that I had to look to the ceiling.

It’ll pass was the only thing I could tell myself to alleviate the yearning in my gut.

Once the music finished, I was unraveling myself from his grasp and taking quick steps away. His focus on my back was blazing.