“C’mon, work with me here, Armand,” Wes leaned down to whisper. “You want to speed this all up, then don’t let him see you looking for him.”

I tensed, ready to pull away, but he held on, keeping me close.

“Relax,” he urged. “I’m not trying to steal you. Just like I know you’re not really into dancing with me.”

“You don’t have to say it like that. Dancing with you is fine. And wait, speed what up?”

“I saw you when you came in,” he said, giving another shrug. “And let’s just say . . . I get it.”

He paused to twirl me. With some annoyance, I went along with the spin. Then Wes drew me into him again, bringing our bodies flush. “Here’s hoping he saw that one, huh?” Biting his bottom lip, Wes waggled his dark brows at me.

I rolled my eyes, unable to stifle a laugh.

“Thaaaat’s the ticket, Armand,” he said. “Go on. Say yes to the Wes.”

“Hey.”

I jumped as Lucas appeared at our side from nowhere.

“Greetings, my liege,” said Wes, though he never broke his stare from mine. “Stephanie and I were just . . . catching up.”

“Yeah. Mind if I cut in?”

For the span of several seconds, Wes kept his eyes trained on me. He winked. “Who gives this woman to be joined in slow, sultry dancing? Reluctantly, I do.”

Scowling at Wes, Lucas slid into his spot.

“One more thing.” Wes inserted an arm between us, issuing each of us a hard glare. “Don’t forget to leave room for the Holy Spirit.”

With that, Wes departed, heading toward the snack table, where I caught sight of Patrick chatting up a cute girl wearing a rival school sweatshirt. Next to him stood a perturbed-looking Charlotte.

A warm, almost burning hand came to rest at the base of my spine while the trumpets wailed low, cymbals ticked a soft beat, and someone plucked an upright bass.

Lucas took my hand and swayed me from one foot to the other.

All around us, other couples executed saucier and more daring moves, the men sending the women into perilously low dips, the women sliding up close to the men, hooking a leg around one of theirs, tango style.

Lucas’s cologne—subtle, sharp, and masculine—blended with the underlying scent of his skin and sweat, the mixture taunting me. We turned together, and somewhere in the midst of the rotation, he drew me snug against him—closer than during our impromptu stairwell dance lesson. The sensation of our hips pressed together made me dizzy.

“When did you come in?” Lucas asked. “I kept looking for you.”

So. Charlotte hadn’t told him I was here.

“Just now,” I said. “Well. A few minutes ago. I mean . . . I saw you guys.”

“Oh, you saw us?” Lucas brightened.

“Yeah. You guys are . . . kind of amazing.” Could he detect the jealousy in my voice? “How long have you two been, uh, doing this?”