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“Who my stage partner is forBarefoot in the Park?”
She turned to look at me. “He is?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you have rehearsal tonight?”
“No,” I answered with a laugh. “Of course not. Why would you ask that?”
“Well, he isn’t here for the fruit punch, that’s for sure.”
Oh.
I followed her gaze to see the man himself, dressed fine as ever, stalking across the gym. The students didn’t pay much attention, but the other chaperones—mostly young, single teachers—followed his progress across the room.
It didn’t matter because his attention didn’t waver from me. Not for one second. As a matter of fact, he’d better stop giving me bedroom eyes in the middle of the BHS gym where teenagers would definitely know what that look was about.
I glared at him, giving him my warning face, which only seemed to urge him on. He took long strides, eating up the distance with a leisurely grace, his heated gaze devouring me from head to toe.
I’d worn a plain black mini-dress with a silvery-white cardigan on the dressy side. An outfit I actually kept in my closet for events like this that required an actual dress. It wasn’t fancy. Or exceptionally pretty. But the way Bennett looked at me like he wanted to rip it off me said otherwise.
When he finally stood in front of me, he slid his arms around my waist and bent down to kiss me on the cheek, but then grazed his nose along my jaw to my ear where I heard him take a deep inhalation of breath.
“Easy, tiger,” I whispered, grabbing hold of his forearms and stepping back.
“Sorry,” he murmured, grinning down at me, looking anything but sorry.
“What are you doing here?”
“I had to see you,” he blurted out so fast I think it shocked even him. His hands skated down my arms till he gripped me by both hands. “I missed you.”
My heart responded to his tender words, pounding faster and faster. “I missed you, too,” I murmured low, realizing I’d never said those words to another human being.
Except when Emma went away to horsemanship camp for a week without me the summer she was in the fifth grade. And those were a child’s feelings. These were very adult. And very real.
“Hi. I’m Lily Breaux. I’m Betty’s hall buddy.”
Bennett broke his devouring stare to face Lily and shook her hand with the one not still holding onto me. “Bennett Broussard.”
“I know who you are. I sawChicagolast year,” she beamed then promptly blushed. “I loved it. But I heard you were even better in BPAL’s performance ofGreasea few years ago. I wasn’t living in Beauville then, though.”
Lily looked genuinely disappointed. But then, so was I. “When was this?” I asked him.
He looked up, trying to remember, “That was three years ago for the spring musical, I believe.”
“You had to play Danny Zuko, didn’t you?” I asked.
He nodded, smiling shyly.
Then I was right there with Lily, wishing I’d seen him strut around stage in a leather jacket, singing his heart out for Sandra Dee.
“Let me guess who was Sandy,” I said, a tad bitterly, “Mandy Harper.”
He gave a little nod, his smile dropping, looking around the gym. “You wanna dance?”
The DJ had just switched it up, playing a slow song, Adele’s “Someone Like You.”
“I’m not sure I’m allowed.”
