Both Brayden and I stopped talking when a slow song finally came on. We tensed and then exchanged glances, knowing what was coming. “Okay,” he said. “We can only avoid this for so long.”

I nearly burst out laughing, and he answered with a small smile. He too was fully aware of our social ineptitude. Somehow, that was comforting. “Now or never,” I agreed.

We walked over to the dance floor, joining other couples locked in embraces. Calling what most of them were doing “dancing” was kind of a stretch. Most were just kind of stiffly rocking and rotating around. A few were simply using the opportunity to plaster themselves all over each other and make out. They were quickly pulled apart by chaperones.

I took hold of one of Brayden’s hands, and he rested his other on my hip. Aside from the kiss, this was probably the most intimate contact we’d had so far. There were still a few inches between us, but I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed at the change to my normal personal space boundaries. I reminded myself that I liked and trusted Brayden and that there was nothing weird about this. As usual, I didn’t feel surrounded in hearts or rainbows, but I didn’t feel threatened either. Attempting to shift my thoughts from our closeness, I listened to the song and immediately got a feel for its count. About a minute into the song, Brayden realized what I was doing.

“You… you can dance,” he said in amazement.

I looked up at him in surprise. “Of course.” I was hardly sweeping across the floor in some grand ballroom waltz, but all of my movements were timed to the song’s beats. I couldn’t really imagine how else you would dance. Brayden, meanwhile, was only one step removed from the rigid movements of most of the other couples. “It’s not hard,” I added. “It’s just kind of mathematical.”

Once I put it into those terms, Brayden got on board. He was a quick study and counted off the beats with me. Before long, we looked as though we’d been taking dance lessons forever. Even more surprising, I glanced up at him once, expecting to see him concentrating and counting. Instead, he was regarding me with a soft expression… an affectionate one, even. Flushing, I looked away.

Amazingly, the smell of coffee still clung to him, even though he hadn’t worked today. Maybe no amount of showering could get rid of that scent. Yet, as much as I loved eau de coffee, I found myself thinking of the way Adrian’s cologne had smelled at Wolfe’s.

When the next fast song came on, Brayden and I took a break, and he excused himself to go talk to the DJ. When he returned, he refused to explain his mysterious errand, but he seemed supremely pleased with himself. Another slow song soon followed, and we headed back to the dance floor.

And for once, conversation between us stilled. It was enough to just dance for a while. This is what it’s like to lead a simple life, I thought. This is what people my age do. No grand machinations or fights between good and—