She raised an eyebrow. “I noticed.”

“And since you’re such a careful observer, you may have noticed that I’m not a flirt.” One of his fingers, still on the back of her chair, lightly, breathlessly, played in the ends of her hair for just a moment.

Her eyes cut to that side and then back at him. “I have quite a bit of evidence to the contrary, Seb,” she said dryly.

He laughed. “Well, let me be clear then. I’m not a flirt with anyone I’m not completely swept away by.”

Her face went from dry and amused to pliant and soft. Soft like warm pillows and wet lips and down comforters and snow outside and come here, let’s do that again.

They let out twin breaths and then simultaneously turned away to gulp champagne. This was getting out of hand.

A light tinkling of metal on a glass rang out through the hall, and all the teachers at the PS 128 table straightened up.

“Does anyone else feel like a staff meeting is getting called to order?” Grace hissed across the table and made them all burst out laughing.

Sadie, sitting at the head table, grinned over at her teacher buddies like she knew exactly what they were all laughing about.

The speeches commenced, and the caterers set out food on the tables in large bowls. It was family style with about thirty dishes to choose from.

“Jesus, this is like Thanksgiving,” Seb muttered to Via.

A solemn look passed over her face, and he wondered what her Thanksgivings were like usually. His were rooted in Sullivan family tradition, because he and Matty always made the trek up to White Plains for the holiday. It wasn’t the most raucous day of the year, but the predictability of the traditions had come to be a sort of familial comfort over the years. And Matty loved it.

Soon, the speeches were over, the music was back on, and everyone was simultaneously grinning and groaning at the humongous slices of cake being passed around.

Sebastian couldn’t eat another bite. He also couldn’t possibly simmer in this seat for another second. He could have sworn that the air around him was shimmering with heat and lust. He wanted to collapse on the woman beside him, drag her under the table. The tablecloth could be their bedroom walls. Fuck it, he’d pay rent for that.

He made a last-second attempt at saving his sanity in front of people he respected.

“Wanna dance, Shell?”

His sweet older friend blushed, took a healthy slug of champagne and daintily wiped her mouth off. “Sure!”

Seb was a big guy, but he’d always been light on his feet. And so, apparently, was Shelly. The two of them danced their way from one side of the dance floor to the other. He two-stepped and boogied with her through an upbeat song and then twirled and guided her through a slow song. He had Shelly’s arm looped through his as they strolled back toward their table. He thought maybe he’d take Grace for a spin and then, hopefully, spend the rest of his night with Via in his arms.