Sierra Lancaster has had an agonizingly mediocre life. She grew up in a happy home, made loyal friends, graduated college, and is now pursuing her dream of running her own bakery. Boring, right? A story like this wouldn't be one for the books. At le...
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I blink at Holden then look behind me in case he was talking to someone else. But no. He was definitely talking to me when he said we need to talk.
Right. Because those conversations always go so well.
About to breakup? We need to talk. Failed your last midterm? We need to talk. Finished a whole bag of chips about ten minutes into purchasing them? We need to talk.
That last one was mine in case it wasn't obvious. It was definitely one of my low points. Anyways.
"Okay?" It comes out as a question because I really don't know what to say. Honestly I don't want to talk to him at all. Remember what I said about falling into routine just talking to strangers? Well the opposite is true as well. I fell into routine not talking to Holden so the idea of us doing that feels wrong, wrong, wrong. What the hell do we have to talk about anyway?
I think he can tell I really don't want to do this because his mouth tugs down in a frown, eyes grazing over me again. That's about the third time he did that. Oh. Wait. He just made it four.
"Sierra!" The ninja dude that ran off with one of my cakes is suddenly beside me. I tip my head back up to look at him because wow, he's gigantic. In return he grins down at me with a smile I'm sure makes women go cross-eyed. "You and I. Dance floor. Now."
"Okay?" I find myself repeating. Why is today so weird? I don't understand what's happening and I kind of want to cry.
"That's what I'm talking about." He grabs my hand and starts leading me away. I try to ask him to wait but he's already singing along to whatever song is blasting through the speakers and based on his unique voice, he's got hearing problems.
"I, uh, shit." I look over my shoulder at Holden who's already watching me, expression flat. "Sorry. I'll find you later."
I don't get the chance to see if he responds. The next thing I know I'm in a swarm of people who are dancing and laughing. I blink up at my date when he takes hold of my hand and spins me in a circle, moving his body in a way that's no better than his singing. I stifle a laugh.
"It's a good thing you're making it big as an athlete."
"You break my heart, babe." He feigns offence, hand over his chest.
"You kind of stole me in the middle of something important, you know."
"Well, excuse me. That's how a man wins a beautiful girl's attention."
"Uh-huh. I saw you run off with my cake."
He makes me twirl again and when I face him, his eyes are alight with amusement. "And I've been in love ever since."
I roll my eyes but am unable to stop the smile tugging my lips up. "Are all professional athletes such flirts?"
"It comes with the job. Honestly, I could scrape gum off the bottom of tables for a living and still be inclined to flirt with you. Has nothing to do with my profession."
