The Right Moves (The Game #3)(34)
Author: Emma Hart

He seems to understand so much about me – about how I feel, how to deal with the crazy breakdowns that can happen any second. He doesn’t blink at them and nothing seems to faze him. It’s unnerving and reassuring at the same time.

“It’s my favorite time of day,” I admit, twiddling my fingers. “Right now, when day is giving way to night. It’s the point I can drop the fake smile and stop pretending like everything is perfect. There are so many shadows and dark places I can barely recognize my own amongst them, and it’s a relief.”

“You can’t pretend all the time.” He turns his face towards mine, and his eyes are so serious I have to fight not to look back at him. “Anyone who smiles the way you do can’t have a fake one all the time. Either that, or you’re an even better actress than you are a dancer and I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“Maybe not all the time,” I say slowly and quietly. “I don’t always need to pretend. Sometimes it really is okay.”

“Like when you dance.”

I tilt my head towards him, my eyes meeting his through my hair, and I whisper, “Like when I’m with you.”

Rain begins to fall again, splashing into the lake and bouncing off the roof of the shelter. Blake smiles softly and reaches his hand out, pushing my hair from my face. He tucks it behind my ear and his thumb brushes my cheek.

“Then I feel obligated to make sure you don’t have to pretend everything is okay tonight. I feel like it should really be okay.” He straightens and walks backwards. “Come and dance.”

“What?”

He steps out into the rain, his eyes on me, and holds his arms out to his sides. The rain is steadily getting heavier, soaking him. His t-shirt clings to his body, showing every inch of muscle on his body, and I can’t help but look. My eyes can’t help but trace the light indents separating each pack of muscle on his stomach and they can’t help but comb over his chest and broad shoulders.

I know how solid those packs of muscle are. I’ve cried into them. I’ve clung to those shoulders. I’ve been held by those arms. Each time he’s been there, never expecting anything more than what I’ve given him. And I haven’t exactly given him much.

Guys like him shouldn’t exist in real life. I wasn’t lying when I told him he’s too perfect for me to destroy. He is. His looks, his dancing, the way he’s always there… I never expected to meet anyone after Pearce and I definitely didn’t expect to meet anyone like Blake.

Someone pinch me. I have to be dreaming.

“Come dance,” he repeats, spinning suddenly.

“You’re insane.” I shake my head. “I’ll get soaked.”

Blake grins. “Isn’t that the point of dancing in the rain?”

“It’s getting crazy out there. I’m getting wet even standing here because of the damn windows!” I move into the center of the shelter. “Freakin’ hell.”

“So what’s the problem? Come on.” He holds a hand out, his long fingers begging me to grasp them. I look from his hand to his eyes, his twitching lips, his wet hair dripping down his face.

“I… No.”

“Trust me.” He’s not asking me. “Trust me, Abbi. Just two minutes. That’s all you have to do. Just take my hand and dance in the rain with me for two short minutes.”

“Why are you so determined to get me out there? If you want to dance, we can do that here.”

He steps back under the shelter and takes my hovering hand. He’s wet from already dancing in the rain but heat radiates off him and wraps around me. Our faces are inches apart as I look up at him and him down at me.

“Because I see the way you lose yourself when you dance and I want you to lose yourself like that with me. I want you get lost in me. It’s selfish but I don’t care.”

I breathe in sharply and try to ignore the way his grip on my hand tightens. “I don’t… I don’t know if I can let myself,” I whisper.

“Sure you can. You just admitted you don’t have to pretend with me. And you don’t.” Blake takes my other hand and slowly pulls me forward. “All you have to do is close your eyes. I promise you, you won’t get lost alone.”

“Close my eyes?”

“Yep.”

I take a deep breath in, hardly believing a walk in the park has turned into something so insane. So scarily thrilling.

I close my eyes.

“Now what?”

“Now, you feel,” he answers, pulling me forward. The first drops of rain hit my head and face, cold against my skin.

“Feel what?”

“Everything.” More rain. “Feel the rain on your skin. Feel the touch of my skin against yours. Feel the wet ground slipping and sliding beneath your feet. And dance with me like your life depends on it.”

The rain is cold as it beats down against us from all directions. My hair is already sticking to my face, and I can feel my clothes clinging to every part of my body.

One of Blake’s hands leaves mine and settles on my waist, pulling our bodies closer. I rest my hand on his shoulder, and he spins us round. He spins us and spins us and spins us until I no longer know which way is up. Until our bodies are held together by bunches of wet material, and I’m sure mud is halfway up my jeans from all our stepping and splashing in the small puddles forming around us.

His hands are hot against me. His whole body is a raging inferno, contrasting the iciness of the rain against my back. He spins us again, completely in control, and a small laugh leaves me as the ridiculousness of what we’re doing sinks in. My head tilts back, and I laugh again, feeling the drops hit my face. I imagine how we must look to someone walking past; dancing on the muddy grass in the pouring rain, laughing like we don’t have a care in the world.

But we do. We both have cares, we both have secrets we keep from the other. Dance is our freedom to lose ourselves.

I open my eyes for the first time since he told me to close them as I raise my head back up. His green ones stare back at me, unguarded and raw. In them I see a myriad of emotion; uncertainty, pain, happiness, and shadows that are close to mirroring my own. Shadows I’ve never noticed before, never had any idea about.

We stop moving, and I swallow. He raises our clasped hands to the side of my head and scrapes my wet hair from my face.

“Trust me,” he says softly, his words barely audible over the steady beat of nature’s music.