A November Bride (8 page)

“You did not—wait a minute. The Swedish Chef’s name was
Tom
?”

“I saw it on YouTube once—it was some sort of ad lib by Danny Kaye during a skit.” Sadie slumped against the counter. “It doesn’t matter. I flopped.”

“Stop beating up my best friend, will you? You looked adorable.”

“No one who is scared to death looks adorable.”

“I did not call to argue with you.”

“Fine.” Sadie pressed her damp forefinger and middle finger to her left eye.
Headache coming on.
“You don’t usually call me during work hours anyway.”

“True—you don’t answer your phone.”

“I’m off-schedule.” And not likely to catch up if she kept chatting with Erik. “What do you need?”

“I wanted to see if you’d go out with me again.”

Another date? Was Erik just trying to make her feel better?

“Why?”

“The proper response is yes or no—and I sincerely hope you say yes, Sadie Jasmine.”

“A Disney princess name?”

“Jasmine happens to be a flower, too, you know.”

“Whichever—you’re still wrong.”

“Fine. I’ll keep guessing.”

“You always do.”

“Back to my question: Will you go out with me again? Please?”

She silenced the
why
demanding to be asked again. The first date had been fun. Just for a moment a dangerous emotion had flared, but she’d extinguished that quickly enough. And she did need to keep herself busy.

“Sure. I’ll go out with you again. What are we doing?”

“That’s a surprise. Just be comfortable—and ready for a good time.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. Call Mel. She’s worried about you.”

Sadie slumped against the edge of the sink. “Mel called you?”

“Only ten times. Call her.”

“I will. I’m just so embarrassed—and I let her down.”

“Mel’s your friend—she’s on your side, Sadie. She told me she wishes she’d gone with you so she could’ve helped.”

Something between a whimper and giggle escaped Sadie’s lips. “Oh, that would have entertained the TV audience.”

“Well, at least you laughed.”

“Barely.”

“It’s a start. Now get to work. I know how you hate to be off-schedule. See you Saturday.”

How odd that Erik was asking her out when their friendship started all because she had asked him to the Sadie Hawkins Dance.

She could do this.

The middle-school hallways were filled with the sounds of students talking as they opened their lockers and slammed them shut. The overhead clock in the hallway ticked down the last five minutes before homeroom started. Guys and girls yelled hellos, laughter clogged the air, and occasionally someone yelled “Hi, Sadie” and broke her concentration.

The rules for the Sadie Hawkins Day Dance were clear: A girl could ask a guy to the dance on November 13. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t talked to Erik Davis. They were lab partners in science. Sometimes he even called her when he missed school and needed to find out about the day’s assignment.

So why was she sweating through her Just Do It Nike T-shirt?

Sadie positioned herself next to Erik’s locker. He often arrived in a rush, racing the homeroom bell, shoving his backpack into the locker, slamming the door shut with a metallic clang.

All she needed was one minute. Less, even.

And there he was, blond hair disheveled, his gray T-shirt wrinkled.

She chewed on her bottom lip. “Hey, Erik.”

“Sadie.” He manipulated the lock and swung open his locker. Shifted his backpack from his shoulder and shoved it inside. Grabbed a few books.

She gulped a breath, forced a grin. “So . . . I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Sadie Hawkins Dance with me next Friday. It’d be fun.”

Now came the yes, and they could go their separate ways and she could breathe again.

“Um . . . the Sadie Hawkins Dance?”

Did Erik’s voice crack? Poor guy.

“Yeah, you know. They’ve been announcing it over the intercom every morning.”

“Yeah. That.” Erik jumped as the bell rang for homeroom. “I don’t think so, Sadie. Thanks anyway. Gotta go—we’re gonna be late.”

She watched him lope off down the hallway, never once looking back.

He said no.

No.

Her cheeks burned and her lungs ached when she tried to draw a breath. Instead of going to homeroom, she marched to the girls’ bathroom, avoiding her reflection in the mirror over the sinks. She locked herself in a stall, leaning back against the cold metal door.

It didn’t matter. It was a stupid dance. And Erik was a stupid boy.

Sadie squeezed her eyes shut, knuckling away the lone tear that managed to escape and trail down her face.

She’d go to the dance by herself. Lots of girls did.

And nobody knew she’d asked Erik Davis—and that he’d said no. She could only hope he wouldn’t tell his buddies and laugh at her.

Well, if he did, she’d make sure he flunked science—even if it meant she had to flunk it too.

As she began setting up to cook, the clatter of pots and pans jarred her back to the present. She could laugh at that memory now, knowing how she and Erik both ended up at the dance by themselves. How they’d hung back by the refreshments, watching their classmates dance. And how they’d talked. About their teachers. And how Erik liked to
play baseball. And Sadie liked to bake. And then they started inventing crazy secret lives for the chaperones. By the end of the evening, the entire middle-school faculty was a front for a secret agency that battled crime.

And she and Erik weren’t just lab partners anymore . . . they had become friends.

Y
ou’re supposed to let me lead.” Erik repositioned Sadie so she stood facing him again. His big toe was probably swelling from the way she’d tromped on it.

“I’ll let you lead once you know what you’re doing.” Sadie watched her feet, trying to keep up with the rhythm of some song about Joshua and the battle of Jericho. Who knew you could swing dance to a song retelling a Bible story?

“We’re both
beginners
. Stop leading and follow me.”

Other couples moved across the wooden floor in the small room on the upper floor of the Mercury Café in Denver, swinging and swirling around them. They laughed and smiled whether they were getting the dance moves right or not.

Strings of tiny white lights covered the ceiling. Halfway through the free hour-long lesson, she and Erik still looked as if they were involved in some sort of stand-up arm wrestling contest. Why couldn’t they catch on to the instructors’ directions?

“Breathe, Sadie. Of course, if you pass out on me, it’d be easier to take charge.”

“Ha-ha. You’re hysterical.”

“And you’re still not relaxed.”

Sadie risked looking at Erik. “I
am
relaxed.”

“This”—Erik contorted his face into something between a frown and a grimace—“does not communicate relaxed.”

“I’m concentrating.” She closed her eyes. Listened to the music for a moment to recapture the beat. Opened her eyes as Erik tried to maneuver her through another swing-dance step.

“Don’t concentrate so hard. Have fun.”

Sadie clenched her teeth. “How can I have fun when I don’t know what I’m doing?”

Erik swung her in yet another awkward circle, pulling her up against him. “Sadie, most of the people here don’t know what they’re doing.”

She nodded to a young couple who executed a perfect underarm twirl. “They do.”

“They’re cheaters. Very good, experienced cheaters who could teach the class—but still cheaters.” He swayed back and forth, his hand warm against her back. “You know why I wanted to do this tonight?”

“To publicly humiliate both of
us
?”

“No.” In one smooth motion he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her up against him, positioning her arms around his shoulders. “Because if I had to do it over again, I would have said yes when you asked me to the Sadie Hawkins Dance when we were thirteen. I’m catching up on past regrets.”

Sadie stared straight ahead, which meant the only thing she could see was Erik’s gray shirt pocket. Where had that statement come from? They swayed back and forth like two middle schoolers, their feet shuffling on the floor, while other couples stayed up to swing-dance speed. Erik hummed along with the music and Sadie inhaled the faint scent of fabric softener that clung to his clothes.

“We’re dancing too slow.”

“I’m content.” Erik rested his chin on top of her head and continued to hum for a few seconds. “I’m holding you. You’re letting me lead. And you haven’t stepped on my foot in a couple of minutes. It’s turning out to be a good evening, don’t you think?”

When Erik moved his head to look down at her, Sadie made the mistake of looking up, her cheek brushing against the soft cotton fabric of his shirt. In the muted light of the room, Sadie tried to decipher the way Erik’s eyes warmed . . . He was close enough to kiss, if she wanted to do something that crazy.

On a swift intake of breath, Sadie realized she wanted to kiss him. She did. If his arms tightened around her, or if he tipped his head the slightest bit closer—she’d close her eyes and say yes to this longing.

And then the song ended. The dancers slowed. Moved away. And Erik released her.

The moment faded with the last notes of the music.

By the time the class ended, Erik had coaxed her into trying the basic steps again—and they’d managed to master them. Well, almost. But she’d laughed at her missteps, not tensed up. And Erik ended the final dance with a silly
flourish, dipping her and dropping the lightest of kisses on her cheek.

Silly man.

On the ride home, Sadie tucked herself into the passenger’s seat, her hands folded in her lap, as she watched the blur of houses along Broadway pass by outside the car window. She and Erik had never danced together before. It was . . . unfamiliar . . . to be that close to him for an hour. To feel the pressure of his hands guiding her, to be so near that his beard brushed against her face, to feel his arm wrapped around her waist, to listen to him hum . . . and to wonder if he could feel her heart beating like she could feel his.

“Tired?”

“
Hmm
.” She shook her head, dispelling her thoughts. “In a good way.”

“I’m glad. We’ll try it again sometime.”

“Sure.”

They would? When—and why? And would it be a date—or would they be back to “best friends only” status again?

Outside her house, Erik stepped up onto the small front porch while she searched in her purse for her key and slipped it into the lock.

“You want to come in? I could make some coffee.”

“I don’t think so.”

A small pang—something indefinable—tripped her heart. “Oh. I understand. On deadline?”

“No.” Erik stood in the shadows. “That’s not it at all. It’s because of this.”

Before she realized his intent, Erik leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed her.

He didn’t touch her, save for the firm pressure of his lips against hers.

Erik pulled away the barest of inches. “Sadie?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you again.”

He didn’t wait for her to say
no
or
yes
or
please
. He cradled her face with his hands, which were cool from the fall night air, his thumbs caressing her skin and sending shivers down her neck. His kiss coaxed a response from her, his lips soft against hers, the taste of his mouth enticing in its newness. Sadie leaned into Erik, savoring the touch of his hands against her skin, the warmth of his mouth. When he ended the kiss, Sadie’s hand clutched the front of his coat, as if anchoring herself to him.

“And that, my dear Sadie”—Erik rested his forehead against hers, his breath warming her lips in an echo of their kiss—“is why I’m not coming in.”

Enough said.

He pulled her close again and, for one moment, Sadie held her breath, but instead of kissing her again, Erik unlocked the front door, thanks to the key that was waiting in the lock.

“I really enjoyed myself tonight.” Sadie half-closed the door.

Erik’s eyes glinted in the porch light. “I did too. And the dancing was fun too.”

The sound of Erik’s laughter slid into the house as she closed the door. Sadie leaned against the door, embracing the memory of his kiss.