She looked up at him.
Caught.
And yet, he couldn’t look away. A tear slid down her cheek, and instinctively, he reached over and wiped it away with his thumb. Their eyes met and he pulled his hand away. “Sorry.”
She gave her head a slight shake. “It’s okay.”
Neither of them moved for several seconds, held in place by an unnamed, invisible force. His gaze dipped to her lips, then back to her wide eyes, which seemed to be watching him a little too intently.
What would she do if he kissed her right now? Her lips were right there, full and so inviting. He pressed his own lips together, searching for common sense to talk him out of it, but his mind was empty.
“Well, I should go,” she said after several seconds.
Her words snapped him back to reality, and he took a step back. “Tomorrow, then.”
“Yep,” she said.
He hurried off, simultaneously feeling like a first-class idiot and the luckiest man in the world.
After all, he had a standing date with a woman more interesting than anyone he’d met in a long time, and even though nothing could ever come of it, it gave him something to look forward to.
Seeing Charlotte would be the highlight of his day.
And that was as terrifying as it was exciting.
32
Charlotte drove home without checking her voicemail, without turning on any music, without making a sound.
Had she and Cole just had a moment?
Her heart had been beating so loud and so fast she could hardly breathe, and if that had been a scene in a movie, she would’ve been the girl on her couch chanting, “Kiss her! Kiss her!”
Something inside her had shifted toward Cole the instant he handed her those flowers. Why had he done that? Was he trying to get on her good side?
But that moment they’d shared only minutes ago had nearly done her in.
Dancing with him had been utterly unnerving. The way he smelled, the way he held her, the way he moved—all of it was new and different—and so was the effect it had on her.
She’d fall asleep replaying the moment on the sidewalk. Never mind that she’d ruined it. What would’ve happened if she hadn’t said anything? If she hadn’t backed away?
What she wouldn’t give to find out.
She’d played a role the whole time, the role of an in-charge dance instructor, but truth be told, it was an act. Inside, her nerves seemed to be having a party.
Her skin tingled when he touched her. What was that about? And not just that either. Her heart raced when she tried to talk to him. Maybe because he wasn’t quick to respond. Instead, he watched her with such intensity it set her completely off-kilter.
He was terribly handsome, unfairly so, and she got the impression that if he’d ever known that about himself, he’d forgotten it now.
Something about him was broken. Something inside, maybe deep inside, and she wondered if he had any idea what it was or how to fix it.
Listening to him talk about Julianna had comforted her somehow, giving her reassurances she desperately needed. She needed to believe that this life her friend had chosen had been the right life, the life she was meant to live.
And she especially needed to believe that she hadn’t stolen her best friend’s purpose from her. Because she had stolen her spot in the coveted dance program they’d both always dreamed of.
That program, the training Charlotte received there, it had catapulted her into the next tier of professional ballet. And it could’ve done the same for Jules if Charlotte hadn’t let her jealousy get in the way.
But she couldn’t change what she’d done. She could only do better from now on. If only she could keep regret from haunting her.
She pulled into Lucy’s driveway, noticing there were two unfamiliar cars parked out front. She turned off the engine and made her way inside via the back door. She hung her bag on the hook in the mudroom and looked around on a nearby shelf for something suitable to put the flowers in. The sound of laughter mixed with the smell of Chinese food. That, she had sampled, but typically only the healthier dishes, usually prepared especially for her.
“Charlotte, is that you?” Lucy’s voice rang out from the living room.
“Yeah, it’s just me.” Charlotte had to pass through the living room to go upstairs, but she thought she could do that without causing too much of a disruption.
Lucy appeared in the doorway. “Finally! We were waiting for you before we start.”
Charlotte frowned. “Start what?”
“Girls’ night.” Haley pushed past Lucy, into the kitchen, followed by Quinn and Betsy.
“It’s tradition,” Lucy said.
Charlotte now realized the unopened Chinese food containers were sitting on the kitchen island next to a stack of plates. Five plates.
Was there a plate for her?
“Oh, I don’t want to impose,” Charlotte said.
All four of the other women stared back at her.
“Did you hear the part where we said we were waiting for you?” Lucy asked. “Grab a plate.”
“Wait, can you eat Chinese?” Quinn asked. “Lucy said you have restrictions.”
“I do,” Charlotte said. “I’m sorry.”
Lucy held up a hand. “Guys, give me a little credit. I ordered yours separate. Everything is steamed.” She pushed two containers toward Charlotte. “But if you don’t eat an eggroll, I’m not sure we can still be friends.”
The other girls chatted and took plates, opening containers and dishing up the food, family-style. Everyone took what they wanted, sharing their dinners as if it were perfectly normal.
Charlotte only stared.
“You okay?” Quinn asked as she rounded the island to pour herself a glass of iced tea.
Charlotte nodded, unable to speak around the lump at the back of her throat. She’d never been invited to a girls’ night. She didn’t go out socially, and she’d certainly never been included in something that resembled a middle school slumber party.
Each of the women wore pajamas, had their hair up in buns, and looked like they were here for the duration. It set something off inside Charlotte, something like gratitude.
“Pretty flowers.” Quinn faced her now, a tease of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Charlotte looked at the bouquet, admired it, remembered the moment Cole handed it to her, and then, she was sure—blushed.
All at once, the four other women burst out in chatter. A chorus of “I told you they were for her!” and “You need to fill us in on what’s going on” and “You’ve been holding out on me” rang out, filling the air with what Charlotte could only describe as obnoxious excitement.
“You should’ve seen him in the flower shop,” Quinn said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Coach like that.”
“Like what?” Charlotte turned away, opening the cupboard in search of a vase, but really needing to escape four pairs of watchful eyes.
Stacks of bowls stared back at her.
Lucy appeared at her side, opened a different cupboard, and pulled out a tall glass vase, the perfect size, then handed it to Charlotte. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
“I don’t know,” Quinn went on. “He was unsure, I think. It seemed like it really mattered to him.”