~41~ shall we dance?

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“Daring as ever, Amelie,” Navarro says. His eyes hover around my hair and slowly trail down to glance at my neck. A pleasantly warm sensation spreads across my chest. It feels good to see him. Butterflies are multiplying in my stomach. My eyes can’t help but soften as I gaze at him. 

He’s wearing a sleek, black tuxedo. The wool looks so soft; I want to run my fingers across his lapel. His dark hair is neatly pomaded. Unlike Dad, he seems comfortable in a tux. Then again, he’s comfortable in everything he wears. 

Awe etches itself across his handsome features.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You sound surprised, Coach.”

“Well, no… Yes.”

“What’s it to be? Yes or no? You can’t have both.”

His laugh makes my heart spin in happiness. I could listen to that velvety sound for ages. The music has disappeared along with the polite, forced conversation. We’re frozen in this specific moment. Nothing else matters.

“Very true,” Navarro smiles. “How about a dance?”

“Uh…” He’s asking me to dance? I have to set my champagne flute to one side. 

“Only if you want to, of course,” his hand stretches out towards me. “And I hope you do.”

The last words are said in a cheeky murmur. I hesitate for a moment before accepting. There’s an irresistible challenge in his eyes.  “Sure. I’d love to.”

His fingers wrap around my hand. His hand is as comforting as a glove. It’s almost like he was tailor-made for me…

I can’t help admiring the gentle curves of that part of his anatomy…

Oh god. I’m just imagining him transporting me into a world of touch. I’d like to press my lips against them. Cover his skin with my kisses. 

His thumb lazily strokes my palm. Our eyes drift back from our interlinked hands to stare at each other. Navarro’s lips part. His eyes sparkle with contagious… excitement. 

“Armand! I’ve been looking for your everywhere, darling.”

Her voice shatters the moment. I inwardly curse. My hand separate from his and resides by my side again. 

She wraps her arm around his back.

Armand inhales. “I hadn’t noticed, Therese.”

Therese Weber is dressed in a backless ice-blue Balenciaga dress. The light bounces off the flawless silk material. A dainty white flower is playfully threaded in her dark brown chignon. 

“Have we met before?” she peers at my face.

Yeah, b!tch. We have but I doubt you’d care to remember. 

“Nope,” I say quickly as Armand is opening his mouth to say something. He raises his eyebrows at me, before nodding his head slightly.

“Oh,” Therese says. “I could have sworn—Your face looks familiar. My mistake. Gorgeous dress,” she rests her palm against my waist, feeling the fabric. Her brown eyes widen with admiration.

“Thanks,” I force a tight smile. Oh. So she thinks I’m someone just because I’m wearing a nice dress. How shallow can you be?

“That velvet is beautiful,” she smiles warmly at me. “Don’t you think, Armand?”

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