Page 57 of The Other Side of Wild
Ask for help, and lean on your support system. Dr. Williams's voice replays in my head: I can do this. “Can you help me with something?” Tatum may look like one of those bad boy types, but he’s the biggest romantic at heart.
“Depends.” His eyes are the same color as mine, but his hair is black, and his eyelashes are thicker. It makes him look more exotic, the jerk. But at this moment, the way his eyes are peeking through his lashes as he peels an orange, he looks sinister, like one of those villains that steal the hearts of people in movies.
“I need to do some grand gesture, a personal one.” His smirk turns into a full-on grin. He walks away, coming back with a pad of paper and a pen. He sits at my dining room table, turning the chair around backward, he begins.
“Okay, little Grey-grey. Here’s what you’re going to do since you apparently don’t know how females work.”
I scoff as I walk in his direction. “And you do?”
He jerks his head up and scowls, “Do you want my help or not?” I plop down in the seat next to him as he draws me an actual picture of what he thinks I should do. And I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a good idea.
“Where do you come up with some of this stuff?” Questioning my brother as he chews on the end of the pencil.
“I pay attention. Just because I don’t say anything doesn’t mean I don’t pick up on things. Plus, Nikki used to watch all those stupid cheesy romance movies. Apparently, girls actually like that stuff.” He shrugs; I cringe at the mention of Nikki. If I thought Kara was bad.
“Personalize it to her likes. I’m sure you know more about her than I do. Bring her favorite snacks, flowers, whatever. Then it’s personal and private, and you can fix whatever it is you broke. Hopefully.”
I nod, some ideas flow, and I’m thankful for his help because I wouldn’t have ever thought of this. “Thanks, man.” I roll up the paper, but before I can put all this into action, I need to surprise my girl. Step one is about to go down.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask as Abby hides me behind the group of my teammates that showed up tonight.
“Yes, now hush, she’s parking.” She whispers as she fluffs my hair. The guys and Abby have been teaching me different dances at the end of each physical therapy session. While I can’t deny that they’re fun to do, I’m nervous to put those moves to use with Hannah.
Peeking through the opening between Monroe and Samuels, I see her walk in. She’s like the freaking sun, bright, radiates warmth, and my gosh does she look fantastic. She has cut-off jean shorts on; they’re lighter than normal blue jeans, but up against her tan, toned legs, they’re like a beacon. Drawing my attention, and wait, if it’s drawingmyattention, it’s probably drawing. Oh, heck no. I start to straighten myself up, but Abby grabs my wrist behind her back; I take a breath as I watch Hannah completely wave off the guy who walked up to her and turn toward us.
Her light brown cowboy boots have some intricate design in light pink stitching; it makes her look so girly, which isn’t her usual go-to. She’s more of the sporty, oversized shirt and leggings type. Which I happen to be a fan of, but this look I’m a huge fan of too. Her shirt is one of those cropped ones, showing the tiniest bit of skin above the waist of her shorts and the bottom of her shirt.
Her hair is braided down her back; I don’t think I’ve ever seen it like that. It’s usually up in a bun or braided to the side. She looks every bit the Southern girl she really is. More than that, she looks happy. I just hope my presence doesn’t ruin that. “Hey guys!” She calls with a smile so bright it competes with the neon lights behind the bar.
Abby squeezes my wrist, giving me the signal. I stand up to my full height, which is a good foot taller than Abby. Hannah’s eyes track my movement, widening in realization that I’m here too. Her lips part, and her stunned silence makes me nervous. Her surprise quickly turns to joy as her lips pull into a smile.
“Hey, Bulldozer.” My heart takes flight at the sound of my nickname. Not Grey, not Greyson, Bulldozer. I didn’t know hearing her call me that would ever make me so happy, but damn it. There isn’t anything better than those hearing those words after this time apart.
Any hesitation I had disappears; I hold out my hand to her, praying to the good Lord above that she takes it. A beat passes before she puts me out of my misery. “Dance with me?” I ask as her eyes meet mine once more.
“You dance?” Her forehead crinkles with the way her eyebrows are pulled high. I give her a nod before taking a step toward her. I forgot we weren’t alone until Reed whoops and pulls Abby to the dance floor beside us.
Hannah’s looking at me like she wants to devour me whole like a Thanksgiving turkey. Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth, and I fight every instinct I have to free it; I know I have to play my cards right. Slow and steady.
She pulls me further into the bar, away from our friends, where she finds an empty spot in the corner of the dance floor. “When did you learn to dance?” She asks as we get into the rhythm of a two-step. She lets me lead, which shocks me while also increasing my beginner's anxiety because I don’t want to step on her feet.
“Abby and the guys gave me lessons. They said it made you happy. I wanted to be able to do something that made you happy, too.” Her eyes fill with tears, and I start to panic. Was this the wrong thing to do? Was Abby wrong? Did I really commit myself to exile?!
That train of thought comes to a screeching halt when the song ends, and she steps into me. She places her cheek against my chest and wraps her arms around my waist; I feel her sigh and every ounce of resignation I had melted away. In its place, an overwhelming feeling of rightness takes over. When my cheek meets the top of her head, I can’t explain it. It’s a bone-deep realization that I haven’t screwed this up, that there is still a chance here. That we can heal together, that I am worthy of her affection.
“I have a lot to say to you, but I don’t think now is the time. If it’s okay with you, I’d just like to have fun tonight. We can get to the serious stuff later. Just let me be your friend right now. Is that okay?” I ask into her hair. She nods against my chest.
All too soon, Samuels takes her from me, andshe teaches him the steps. Am I jealous she’s giving her time to someone else? Yes. There's an internal battle in my head to both go over and drag her back to me and let her hang out with our friends.
Her bright laugh brings me back to the moment, head lifting to where she’s spinning on the dance floor. Her head is thrown back, arms out wide, her braid swinging like a rope, but it’s the light in her eye that makes me pause. It’s the same shine I saw in the picture Andrews sent me when they were in Alabama. Her eyes catch on mine mid-turn; she slows until she comes to a stop.
She gives me a small smile and her outstretched hand. All but jumping off my stool, my feet take me in the direction of the beauty waiting for me. “Can I teach you one more, or did they already teach you Cotton Eyed Joe?” Her voice is soft, her cheeks pink, and little beads of sweat are visible on her forehead.
“Teach away, Kitten.” I purposely trip all over myself, making it seem like I haven’t done this fifty times in my bedroom, making sure I had it right. Her happiness makes it all worth it. I’m well aware I’m making a fool of myself in public for the sole purpose of making her smile, just like she did to pull me out of my panic attack.
“Come on, Bulldozer. I need a break.” Pulling me from the dance floor she doesn’t let go of my hand until we’re back at the table. Two beers are pushed our way; I hand one to her as I take a sip of mine. The cold carbonation feels good against the warmth of my body at the moment. Relaxing, refreshing. I get the beer and dancing thing now.
“How’d it go with Nora?” Abby asks from her spot between Monroe and Reed. The three of them are like the three musketeers, pranksters. Always keeping the rest of us on our toes.