He’s momentarily befuddled by my smile, opening his mouth and closing it. “Jesus, you’re so fucking pretty.”

“Thank you.” Oh dear. That tug in my chest is very ominous. “You’re very handsome. We sound like two people who ought to be dancing and enjoying themselves, don’t we?”

We pass through a group of men holding pilsner glasses of beer—construction types who watch us speculatively, not bothering to hide their smirks.

“Better keep your date away from your brother,” one of them snickers.

A chorus of laughs follows.

Gabe immediately tries to pull his hand out of mine, his jaw turning brittle. He’s obviously preparing to confront whoever made the comment, but I hold on tight to his hand, refusing to stop until we reach our destination.

“Look. I’m really not a dancer. All right? It’s enough just to have you here with me,” Gabe says, pulling roughly on his collar. “I don’t need to…to beat them.”

I draw him to a stop near the edge of the floor, somewhat in the shadows, noticing the way his Adam’s apple appears to be lodged beneath his chin. Being in the center of the room has caused a fine sweat to begin forming on his brow. “You’re right. We don’t have to beat them, but we’re not running, either.” I wind my arms up behind his neck, pressing my body in tight to his strength. “Take up space, Gabe.”

A groove appears between his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Take up your space and don’t apologize for it,” I say, teasing the ends of his hair with my fingertips. “Like you said, you don’t have to beat anyone. I respect that. It’s a healthy way of looking at a really hurtful situation. But maybe…if a person stays quiet and makes everyone else comfortable all the time, at the cost of their own voice, they’re beating themselves.”

He blinks, considering that. “That’s what I’ve been doing. Trying to make them comfortable when it should be the other way around.”

I nod. “So stop.”

“Take up my space.”

“Yeah,” I say, beaming up at him. “That’s right.”

That’s my only warning before I’m walked backward into the purple light, his hands dropping to my hips and gripping them securely. So tightly that a whimper shudders out of me before I can stop it, drawing the attention of a couple dancing to our left. Gabe hauls me upon to my toes in a bear hug that crushes the fronts of our bodies together, his seemingly ever-constant erection spearing me in the belly.

“God. I’m sorry—” he breathes in my ear.

“No. Take up your space.” There are very few individuals I wouldn’t slap for squeezing me against their boner in public. Or maybe there is only one and I’m dancing with him. I’m different around Gabe. I’m different around all three of them. More aware of my body. My mind. My thoughts are less muddled, almost like energy generated by the four of us together is so loud that it drowns out the outside noise.