That same smile that makes my chest feel tight. “What an honor.”
The song fades away then, and its absence seems to knock some sense into me. I clear my throat as I let go of her waist （even as my fingers feel like they might scream with protest）， making a show of peering out over the crowd as a more upbeat tune starts to play. “Do you want another drink? I’ll definitely need one or five to dance to this kind of music.”
“I’ll wait a bit,” she says. “That last shot got to me, I think.”
“Probably a good idea,” I muse. “I’ll meet you back at the table.”
She looks at me curiously then, studying my expression with a discerning one of her own—but for the life of me, I have no clue what she’s thinking. She gives her head a little shake as if to clear her own thoughts away, pasting on a smile that feels more practiced than the one she’d given me during our dance. “Sure. If Dennis bothers you, just holler. I’ll be sure to beat him up.”
“Perfect,” I laugh. “I feel much safer now.”
She tosses me a wave over her shoulder as she meanders back in the direction of our table, and I take a deep breath of air that is less clouded with her scent after her retreat. It makes it a little easier to think.
I really do need a drink.
* * *
?A lot of things happen over the next hour.
I do get that drink, and polishing it off does wonders for my nerves and the tension that comes from being in such a crowded place. At some point, Priya loudly announces that she has decided I am good enough for Mackenzie—something that makes the entire table burst into laughter. I meet Betty, and she does tell me that she delivered Tim Allen. She also tells me I’d better not break Mackenzie’s heart, and for a seventy-something-year-old woman, she comes off as pretty intimidating. Paul says good night and heads home after giving me another sly smile and knowing look, and I can’t pretend I’m not a little jealous of his departure. Although, I have to admit—I’ve had a relatively good time tonight. Mackenzie has made sure of that.
My faux mate in question has been considerably less touchy-feely than she’d been on the dance floor, and I can only assume this is due to her sobering up a little bit more after her round of shots. She’s still touching me familiarly, her arm still looped with mine whenever she isn’t using it to sip her drink or expressively tell a story—but I haven’t seen that sweet smile or that dreamy look since that song ended. She definitely hasn’t sunk into my embrace again. Which I suppose a more rational me would be relieved over. Drink or no, it’s not a good idea for us to be too familiar with each other outside of what’s expected of us.
Even if every inhale brings on more of her sweet scent that threatens to drive me crazy.
Tonight is the closest thing I’ve had to a date in I can’t remember how long, and even if it’s completely false and only for show, it’s honestly sort of . . . nice. Spending time with other people. I’ve spent so long sequestering myself off from others to keep my secret that I had forgotten how pleasant an experience socializing can be when given the proper chance.
But it could very well be the company I’m keeping.
“You doing okay?”
I glance down at Mackenzie, who is leaning into me conspiratorially, her voice low so that only I can hear it while Priya tells a terrible joke to an ophthalmologist she brought back to the table.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “I’m having a fairly decent time.”
“Wow,” Mackenzie laughs softly. “Noah Taylor having a fairly decent time. Someone alert the media.”
“Cute.” I press my lips together. “I suppose socializing isn’t as horrible as I first pegged it to be.”
She lets out a mock gasp. “Oh my God. Next week I’m going to have to drag you out of a rave or something.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” I say, cringing.
She smiles up at me, not the inviting one from earlier that had made my stomach twist, but still a soft and sweet number that says she’s genuinely happy to hear this. “I’m glad you’re having a good time. It’s not good for someone to keep all cooped up to themselves like you do.”
“Is that your professional diagnosis?”
Her face splits into a full-on grin, flashing me her teeth. The stomach knots are back. “It is. No need to seek a second opinion.”
“You guys are grossing me out,” Priya groans from across the table, breaking apart our quiet conversation. “I liked you better when you were grumpy,” she adds, pointing at me in accusation. “At least then I wasn’t so jealous.”