Three Pucking Wedding Dates (Hockey Harems #1)

46. Theo

46

THEO

T he door to the dance studio swings open, and I can’t help but chuckle as Oakley steps inside, decked out in an outfit that seems more suited for a night out rather than a dance class. Her tight black leggings hug her curves, while the loose, flowing white top adds a touch of elegance. “So, are you ready to show off your moves?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely,” she replies, striking a mockingly graceful pose. “As long as those moves involve tripping over my own feet and accidentally elbowing my partner in the face.”

I laugh at her self-deprecation, knowing it’s her way of masking any discomfort she might feel. Oakley’s always been one to crack jokes when faced with potential embarrassment—a trait that makes her all the more endearing.

“Trust me, I’ve seen worse,” I assure her, thinking back on past dance classes that have gone awry. “Besides, I’m sure your natural grace will shine through.”

“Natural grace? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Oakley retorts, smirking. I can see the hint of nervousness behind her eyes, but her determination to not let it overwhelm her is inspiring.

“Hey, if you can handle everything else life has thrown at you, I’m sure a little waltzing won’t be a problem,” I say, trying to boost her confidence. After everything she’s been through, Oakley deserves to enjoy herself, even if it’s just for an hour or two in a silly dance class.

“Alright then, let’s see if this ‘natural grace’ of mine comes with an instruction manual,” she quips, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.

The scent of polished wood and sweat fills the air as Oakley and I take our places among the other dancers. A sudden wave of heat rushes over me, but it’s not from nervousness. The way Oakley’s wavy brown hair frames her face and the sparkle in her green eyes ignites a fire deep within me, one I can’t quench.

“Bet you didn’t think we’d be waltzing together, huh?” Oakley jokes, trying to hide her own anxiety.

“Life’s full of surprises,” I reply, unable to resist smiling at her wit.

Just then, Ally, one of Georgia’s bridesmaids, sashays up to us with a predatory grin. “Well, if it isn’t clumsy Oakley,” she purrs, giving Oakley a once-over. “I always knew you had two left feet, but I didn’t realize they extended to your dance moves.”

“Ally.” Oakley rolls her eyes, clearly unimpressed by the taunt. “Always so nice to see you…said no one ever.”

Ally’s gaze shifts to me, her flirtatious smile growing wider. “Theo, you look dashing as always. It must be such a challenge partnering with someone who can barely walk without tripping.”

“Actually,” Oakley interjects, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “I find it quite refreshing. You know what they say—dance like nobody’s watching. Especially when ‘nobody’ is an insufferable busybody.”

For a moment, Ally’s facade cracks, revealing the sting of Oakley’s words. She huffs and turns away, stalking off to another corner of the room.

“Nice one,” I tell Oakley, impressed by her quick wit.

“Can’t let her get to me.” She shrugs, but I notice her hands trembling slightly. I give her an encouraging smile, trying to offer some comfort.

The instructor, a petite woman with boundless energy, claps her hands to get our attention. “Alright, everyone! Let’s begin with the basics of the waltz. Remember, this dance is all about partner coordination and synchronized movements.”

Oakley glances at me, determination in her eyes. “Ready to make fools of ourselves?”

I take Oakley’s hand, feeling the warmth of her touch as we assume our waltz positions. She looks up at me with a determined glint in her eyes.

“Alright, let’s do this,” she says, trying to sound confident despite the uncertainty in her voice.

As the music begins, we attempt to glide across the floor, but it quickly becomes apparent that neither of us are natural-born dancers. Oakley stumbles over my feet more than once, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment each time.

“Sorry,” she mutters, avoiding my gaze. “I’ve always been more of a wallflower than a ballroom dancer.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” I reassure her, gently squeezing her hand. “We’re here to learn, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, taking a deep breath and refocusing her efforts.

But despite her determination, Oakley continues to struggle with the steps, her movements stiff and uncoordinated. I can see her frustration building, and I wish there was something I could do to help.

“Mr. Archer,” the instructor calls out suddenly, causing us to halt mid-step. “Your footwork is quite impressive!”

“Thank you,” I reply, somewhat surprised by her praise. I hadn’t thought I was doing anything particularly noteworthy.

“Would you mind partnering with Miss Ally for a demonstration? She seems to be struggling with the timing, and I think your skills would be invaluable in assisting her.”

My eyes flicker to Oakley, who tries to hide her disappointment behind a thin smile. “Go ahead,” she tells me, releasing my hand. “I’ll just watch for now.” She musters up a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Alright,” I say reluctantly, trying to ignore the tension between us. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive,” she replies, crossing her arms and stepping back.

The moment my hand touches Ally’s, Oakley’s face flashes across my mind. I shake the image away and focus on the task at hand.

As Ally and I start to dance, I can’t help but steal glances at Oakley. Her green eyes are locked onto our movements, and her lips are pressed into a tight line. It’s clear she’s not happy about this arrangement, despite her assurances.

“Focus, Theo,” Ally whispers, snapping me out of my thoughts. “You’re doing great.”

“Right, sorry.” I force myself to concentrate on the steps and forget about Oakley for a moment. Ally and I move smoothly around the room, our bodies in perfect sync. We make an undeniably impressive pair, but something feels off.

“See? You two look amazing together.” The instructor beams as we finish the demonstration. The other students murmur their agreement, some even clapping.

“Thanks,” I mumble, unable to shake the nagging feeling that I’ve let Oakley down. My gaze drifts back to her, finding her still watching us with a sour expression. When our eyes meet, she quickly looks away, feigning interest in the nearby wall.

“Great job, Theo,” Ally says, giving my hand a small squeeze before releasing it. “You really helped me understand the timing better.”

“Anytime,” I reply, my words lacking genuine enthusiasm. All I want is to get back to Oakley, to somehow make things right between us.

As I return to her side, she tries to hide her disappointment with a forced laugh. “You two were really something else,” she says, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Oakley, I?—”

“Let’s just get back to practicing,” she interrupts. Her eyes are determined, but I can’t help noticing the hurt that lingers beneath the surface.

As the music starts again, Oakley and I move cautiously at first. I can tell she’s putting all her focus into each step, and I find myself admiring her tenacity. She may not be the most graceful dancer, but her spirit is undeniable.

“Keep your head up, Oakley,” I gently remind her, my voice low so only she can hear. “You’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” she replies, her tone laced with gratitude and determination. “I won’t let you down.”

Her words resonate deep within me, and I’m reminded of all the times she’s stood by me—through thick and thin. It’s that fierce loyalty that makes me want to protect her from anything that could hurt her.

Together, we glide across the floor, our movements slowly becoming smoother and more synchronized. Oakley’s confidence grows with every step, and I can’t help but smile as I see the tension leave her body.

“Look at us, Theo,” she says, her voice filled with pride. “We’re actually doing it!”

I chuckle, unable to contain my own happiness. “We are, aren’t we?”

Her laughter is infectious, and I realize how much I’ve missed this side of her. The playful banter, the shared laughter—it’s a connection that goes beyond just physical attraction.

“Let’s try that turn again,” I suggest, guiding her through the steps with care. She follows my lead, and this time, we execute the move flawlessly.

“Wow, that felt amazing!” Oakley’s eyes sparkle with excitement as she looks up at me. “We really make a great team, don’t we?”

“We do,” I agree, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. “We always have.”

The warmth of Oakley’s hand in mine sends a thrill coursing through my veins. Our movements are fluid now, like a river winding its way through an enchanted forest. We’re no longer two separate beings, but one harmonious entity.

“Ready for the next part?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Bring it on,” she challenges, the fire in her eyes igniting something within me.

We move together, our bodies brushing against each other as we execute each step with precision. Every accidental touch sends jolts of electricity through me. It’s a dance unlike any other, fueled by the connection between us that grows stronger with every beat of music.

“Step back and spin toward me,” I instruct, guiding her through the intricate footwork.

As Oakley spins, I catch her waist, pulling her close. The sudden proximity steals the breath from both of us. Our gazes lock, and I can see the surprise and desire reflected in her stunning green eyes.

“Did I do that right?” Oakley asks, her voice barely audible.

“Perfectly,” I reply, my own voice strained with the effort to keep my emotions in check.

Our bodies sway in unison, the rhythm of the music pulsing through us. Neither of us breaks eye contact, as if doing so would shatter the spell that has woven itself around us. My heart races, pounding in time with the beat, as we draw even closer.

The air around us seems to crackle with anticipation, and just as our lips are about to finally meet, the instructor’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife. “Alright, everyone! That’s it for today’s class. Great job!”

Disappointment courses through me like a lightning bolt as Oakley and I reluctantly pull away from each other. Our eyes meet briefly, and then she looks away, cheeks flushed.

We gather our belongings in silence, the weight of our unsaid words hanging heavy between us. I’m not normally one for public affection—not as much as Gray or Reid, anyway—but as we leave the dance studio, I take her hand in mine, our fingers intertwining. She glances up at me, surprise registering in her eyes before a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips.