“Did he also tell you that he left without a single word?” My blood pressure is rising. I should walk away. This isn’t going to solve anything, but I can’t. I’m stuck in place, needing to hear what she says.

“Cash, it’s not what you think…”

“That’s the thing… I don’t know what to think, Molly. He’s told me nothing.” I’m being unfair. I know that. It isn’t her fault, and she’s trying to do what’s right by her brother. But in this moment, I can’t find it in me to care.

The bartender finally hands me my new drink. I take a deep, calming breath before turning to face Molly again. I can’t get into this here with her.

I give her the best smile I can manage, even though I’m sure it looks pinched. “It was great to see you, Molly, but I should get going.”

“You too, Cash. Have a great night.”

Making my way back to the other English professors, we make small talk before dinner is served. Stella talks my ear off all throughout dinner, despite my clear disinterest in conversation.

She really doesn’t know how to take a hint.

After dinner, they open up the dance floor, and several bodies trickle out and start moving along to the pulsing music the DJ is playing. I’m on my fifth or sixth champagne at this point… I’ve lost track. My head is feeling fuzzy and I’m actually starting to enjoy watching all the drunk people grind against each other like this is a high school dance.

That is, until my eyes connect with a familiar pair from across the room. He’s already looking at me, lips turned up into a grin. He’s standing beside Molly, and she’s talking to one of the guests.

As much as I want to look away, I can’t. We’re caught in a trance, a magnetic pull that only we can feel. I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with him. Be his partner. Be the man on his arm. If he never left, would it be that way?

My bubbly infused mind wonders if I should go talk to him. Clear the air. Just as I get to my feet and head over there, someone touches my arm. I spin around and come face to face with Stella.

Jesus.

“Hey, wanna dance?”

“Oh, uh.” Rubbing the back of my neck and bouncing between my feet, I try to think of a way to get out of this. “I don’t think so. I’m really not that great of a dancer.”

“Nonsense!” she shrieks, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the dance floor. “It’s a slow dance. Everyone can slow dance.”