“You look beautiful,” he said.
My throat locked.
“Don’t.”
His eyebrows drew together.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say things because you think you’re supposed to.”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t have to rescue me.”
He went very still.
The music moved around us.
Then he said, “I know.”
For some reason, those two words made my chest hurt.
We danced again after that.
Then again.
At first, I counted the songs because I assumed each one would be the last.
By the fourth, I stopped counting.
Caleb made me laugh when he admitted he hated dancing because football had taught him how to run into people, not around them. I told him he had stepped on my dress twice. He looked genuinely horrified. I told him I had survived worse. He flinched at that, and I wished I could pull the words back.
But then he said, “I know you have.”
The laughter left me.
He looked away.
The lights moved over his face in blue and gold flashes.
“How would you know?”
He hesitated.
“I’ve seen you.”
“Everyone’s seen me.”
“No.” His voice was softer now. “I mean, I’ve seen how you keep showing up. Every day. Even when people make it hard.”
