He slips my coat off my shoulders. “Okay, that was a ridiculous idea.” He pushes the door closed, hangs my coat on the hook behind it. When he turns, he holds his arms out to me like we’re going to waltz. “Though we could slow dance.”

He’s smiling at me, that sweet Gavin smile, the intense attention that always makes me feel like there’s no one he’d rather be talking to.

He’s surprised when I take his outstretched hand, move his other hand to my waist, but he smiles big and steps closer, sets us swaying.

When he slides his arm around my waist, I slip my hands over his broad shoulders and wrap my arms around his neck, letting him pull me closer, and I have to work to stop myself from comparing them, how their arms feel around me, how I feel in their arms.

“So why did you really come?” he asks, turning me slowly so I get a 360-degree tour of his room.

Why did I come here? To let him look at me like he wants to kiss me, run his hand down my back, and pull me closer instead of running away. I could let him.

I shrug. “To say hi?”

“Ah,” he says, and pulls back to scan my outfit, my face. “Well, you look beautiful,” he tells me.

“Yeah?” I say.

“Obviously,” he says. “Ellory and I broke up last week,” he adds.

“Oh, Gavin.” I push at his chest, and he laughs at me.

“You’ll be happy to hear she dumped me,” he continues.

“Of course I’m not!” I say.

“Maybe a little,” he says.

“A little,” I admit, which makes him grin.

“So why did you just—decide to end things with me?” I ask. The question falls out of my mouth, out of nowhere.

He stops, so we’re standing instead of dancing. He’s as surprised by the question as I am that I asked it.

“I always thought it was because you were afraid of people making fun of you for dating a fat chick,” I say, finally voicing my worst fear. Bringing it right out into the open.

His face changes. Shock, and then anger. “That’s ridiculous,” he says indignantly. “Why the hell would you think something ridiculous like that?”