Wasted Words by Staci Hart

I reached for his arm, and he looked down at me, smiling. “I mean, you’ve got to live a little.”

“Exactly. I thought skydiving was crazy enough.”

She blinked. “Skydiving? I thought you were afraid of heights?”

He shrugged. “Face your fears, you know?”

“I mean, I just don’t know how you ever handled him,” I said with a chuckle. “It’s hard to say no to Tyler, though, so when he wants to sneak into a bathroom to …” I gave her a look and looked around to make sure no one was listening, “you know, I just can’t deny him.”

A laugh burst out of Tyler, and Jessica’s eyes bounced between us, her lips parted, though she had a smile still stuck to them.

“Gosh, I’m so rude. Blah, blah, blah, me, me, me. So you’re here with Cade Matthews, huh?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she beamed, snapping back to it. “You’ve heard of him? I mean, girls aren’t usually into football. Like, none of my friends even know who he is.”

Pretty sure the entire feminist movement cringed with me. “I totally get what you see in him. He rides that motorcycle, right? I mean, gosh, he nearly killed himself wrecking it last season, didn’t he?”

“Totally. Thank God he was okay.”

“Yeah, I mean, you can’t really call a guy like that boring, can you? And I wouldn’t think twice about his being married three times in the last five years. That’s just experience, right? At least he’s interesting.”

Her cheeks flushed, her pretty lips flattening. “He is interesting. Thanks for reminding me. I should probably get back to him.”

I couldn’t read Tyler’s face, but there was no way I was rolling over at that point. “Have fun,” I said, overly cheery.

“Ah, you too.” Her cheeks flushed, and she nodded once before turning and walking away, her beautiful bare back framed by the draping of the dress.

The second her back was turned, the blood rushed to my cheeks. I touched his arm, embarrassed, my heart full of uncertainty at the realization that I very well may have upset him.

“Oh, my God. I’m sorry, Tyler. I shouldn’t have … I don’t know. Done whatever that was.”

But when he looked over at me, he was smiling, leaning toward me. “Don’t apologize. I’ve thought about what would happen if I ever saw her again a hundred times, and nothing I could have imagined was as perfect as that.”

I laughed and dropped my head to my hand. “She deserved that, but ugh. I’m so inappropriate. I told you I can’t be trusted with my mouth in public.”

He tipped my chin and kissed me sweetly. “I happen to love your mouth. Thank you for sticking up for me.”

“You’re welcome. On a scale of one to naked grandma, how weird was it to see her?”

He thought about it for a beat. “Boner in gym class.”

I laughed again.

“But you made it easier.” He thumbed my cheek. “Thank you for coming with me, Cam.”

I gazed up at him, lovestruck. “You’re welcome.”

When we turned back to the table, Jack was telling a boisterous story, and by the pat on the leg and understanding smile Anne gave me, I had a suspicion he’d started telling it to distract everyone from what I’d decided to call the Jessica Lazarus Event. As I picked up my fork and knife, I reminded myself not to eat like a hog, and I cut a demure, dainty piece of meat off, slipping it into my mouth.

The rest of dinner was uneventful, past Jack’s stories, one after another, including one about Tyler’s dad from when he played for the Chiefs early in his career. I was happy and comfortable, feeling like I was amongst old friends, with no notice of my shoes or dress or the multitude of strangers around us. Just simple contentment of company. And when our plates were being cleared away, Tyler leaned over to me and whispered, “Dance with me.”

I hadn’t lied to Jessica. I couldn’t say no to Tyler.

“Of course,” I answered and slipped my hand into his.

People stood in clusters between tables, others dancing on the huge dance floor as the Billie Holiday song “Crazy He Calls Me” played, which seemed wildly appropriate, and he pulled me into the throng, bringing me into his chest as he took my hand.

With heels on, I was a much better height — the top of my head almost came to his chin — and I rested my cheek against his chest, rocking with him in time to the music.

With Tyler, I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t care who saw me or what they thought. I didn’t care if we looked silly together because of our height difference, or if they didn’t like my lipstick or dress. None of it mattered. The anxiety fell away, there in his arms. It was one of the safest places in the whole world.

He sped up, leading me around in circles with his hand against my back, holding me close, not just rocking but pulling me in rhythm with his feet, not fast enough to need to think to keep up, but enough that we were dancing. He smiled down at me, and I laughed, surprised.

“You can dance,” I said.

“I can,” he echoed and spun me around quickly enough to make me giggle.

“Well, color me surprised.”

He smirked and leaned to whisper in my ear, “I’ve got more in my bag of tricks.”

I lifted my lips to his ear. “Show me.”

“Just say the word.”

“The word.”

He laughed and spun me around again, dancing me around until the song ended.

I sighed, sad the song was over, but when “Bust A Move” came on, he straight up grinned, backing away from me. I didn’t even know what to expect, bouncing my shoulders and wiggling my hips, thinking we were just playing. But my jaw hit the floor when Tyler legit busted a move.