Tate nodded slowly, jaw tight. “You too.”
Adair smirked faintly. “Already on it.” He handed Tate his cup. Rolled his shoulders once. Wiped his palms on his jeans like a nervous college boy again. Then?—
He started walking.
Through the crowd. Past the solo cups and laughter and old memories dressed like new ones. Toward the only woman he’d ever truly wanted.
Sabine was mid-spin, still laughing with Reeka and Narri when she felt it. That heat. That sense of being seen so thoroughly it made her skin prickle. She had to steady her breathing and really play into this. Play into him.
Hey boy, I really wanna see if you…can go downtown with a girl like me!” sang Rihanna over the speakers.
“Hey boy, I really wanna be with you, cause you just my type, ooh na na na na!”
She sangthat part.
Their part.
“So,” Adair leaned down, voice low, “I’m your type?”
Sabine’s eyes went wide. Her hand flew to her chest. She didn’t expect this to feel the way it did but…it did. God,it did. She looked to Narri who had a hand over her mouth crying while watching it all play out.
“Jesus!” she spun around, holding her chest, laughing through the tears. “You scared me!”
“My fault.” Adair grinned, unable to help it and just like that night in 2010, every other woman in the room disappeared.
There was only him…and her.
It was impossible not to drink her in—those same hooded brown eyes, that same mouth that he missed giving sweet kisses but now there were fine lines by her eyes, a sadness tucked beneath her smile. She wasn’t the girl from 2010. She was the woman who survived everything that happened after.
Narri couldn’t even play her part because she was so emotional. Tate had to take her off the dance floor to console her. It was definitely their unborn playing a part.
“I was gonna ask if you wanted to dance,” he said, heartbeat thundering even now.
“Okay.” The way she cheesed—with no filter, no shame—made his knees damn near buckle. She was playing along and he loved her more for it. She stepped forward and started dancing exactly like she had that night—off-beat, chaotic, unbothered. Her arms flailed, her hips moved out of sync with the beat, and yet…
It was perfect.
Adair didn’t touch her. Didn’t interrupt. He just let her be.
“What’s your name?”
“Suh-bean,” she pronounced. “What’s yours?”
“Adair.”
“That’s cute!”
After a few songs, she fanned herself and motioned for water. He led her over to the table, grabbed a bottle, and handed it to her. She downed it like her life depended on it, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.
“You don’t talk?” she asked, same sassy position towards a guy from back then.
“I do.”
“Well…” she rocked side to side, mock awkward, just like before. “Okay! Thanks for the dance.” She turned to walk away and he gently caught her wrist.
“I…” he started, clearing his throat. “I wanted to get your number.”
“My number?” Sabine raised a brow.