He grinned at me. “Sure I could.”
“Prove it.”
He glanced up for a moment, as though he were consulting the stars—or in this case the twinkle lights—then stared into my eyes. “You look beautiful.”
“See what I mean? That isn’t romantic. My mother told me the exact same thing tonight. If a mother could say it, then it doesn’t count as being romantic.”
“All right, I’ll be more specific.” Logan leaned closer to me, holding me tighter, and spoke softly into my ear. “Samantha, you look so beautiful tonight that when I came in and saw you across the room, I was glad I’d lost our bet.”
I have to admit, my heart stopped beating for several seconds.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “That was good, but it was probably just a fluke.”
He shook his head. “What is it with girls and romance anyway?”
“If you need to ask,” I said, still a bit breathless, “you wouldn’t understand.”
He held me a little looser. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his brows came together.
“What I want to know is this: What’s wrong with being a normal sweatshirt-wearing type of guy? Girls always want some mysterious stranger who’ll sweep them off their feet.”
“Mysterious and stranger are optional,” I said, “but sweeping is mandatory.”
“You see, that’s just my point. You don’t want a guy with personality or substance; you just want someone who dances well and has dreamy eyes.”
“You dance well.” I cocked my head at him. “You have dreamy eyes too—and I could even say there are several things I find mysterious about you, like, for example , why you enjoy working on car remains. So maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to categorize yourself as one of the guys with substance. . . .”
It was then I noticed Tyson and Cassidy approach Elise and Josh. Tyson cut in, taking Elise back as his partner and leaving Josh to dance with Cassidy.
Cassidy stood on the dance floor for a moment, unmoving and blushing bright pink, but Josh seemed at ease. He smiled down at her. Then he took one of her hands in his, pulled her into slow-dance position, and they began swaying back and forth.
For once Josh paid complete attention to his partner. Logan noticed me staring and looked over to where Josh and Cassidy were dancing.
“They switched partners,” I said. “I wonder if Elise and Josh planned that all along.”
Logan grinned as though it didn’t matter to him. “I wouldn’t put it past them.”
“And you don’t mind?”
He shrugged. “How can I mind if Josh dances with my date? After all, I’m dancing with his.”
He had a point, especially considering the fact that he’d just been whispering romantic nothings to me. Still, I stared over to where Josh stood holding Cassidy in his arms.
Logan said, “It bothers you though, doesn’t it?”
I didn’t say anything. I knew he was asking in a roundabout way how much I liked Josh, and I didn’t know what to reply.
I pulled my gaze away from Josh and Cassidy. “It just seems so sneaky.”
He lifted one eyebrow and nodded slowly. “And you’ve never done anything sneaky?”
“Oh, no you don’t. You’re not turning this dance into another one of your bash-Samantha sessions. I believe we were talking about romance and specifically your lack of it.”
“I thought you said I had dreamy eyes and was mysterious.”
“I was considering your potential. You weren’t finished proving yourself to me.”
He laughed and pulled me closer. Into my ear he said , “Tu es tre*s belle quand tu marches dans les vestibules, quand tu empiles des livres, et quand tu pleures.”
I didn’t understand any of it—I took Spanish instead of French—but just the sound of the language murmured into my ear was romantic. It made me feel like my entire body could melt like a lump of candle wax onto the gym floor.
I didn’t care whether Josh and Cassidy were off together. I didn’t care if they ever came back. I wanted to stay here dancing with Logan, listening to French drop from his lips.
Then I pushed the thought away. Logan didn’t mean any of this. He was just proving a point about romance.
And a very valid point too.
Apparently I was such an idiot, my heart would race at a romantic line no matter who said it.
“Very good,” I said, “but knowing you, you just told me I ought to change the oil in my car every thirty thousand miles, didn’t you?”
“No, I told you that you look beautiful when you walk through the hallways, when you stack books, and when you cry.”
What an odd compliment. “You’ve never seen me cry.”
“Yes, I have. In eighth grade English when we watched Where the Red Fern Grows.
You cried at the end. That was the first time I thought you were beautiful.”
“When I was crying?”
“Yeah. When you were crying.”
When I cry, my face turns red and my eyes swell up. I silently considered Logan’s aesthetic taste for a moment and then thought about that long-ago day in junior high. It was sweet to think of him noticing me, of him liking me back then. I let out a slow sigh.
*“Whatever happened to us?”
“You dumped me.”
“Well, yeah, but some guys try to win girls back, you know.”
“I know, but at that point you had really started to irritate me.” He followed this statement with a short, “Ow!”
“I’m sorry.” I smiled up at him. “Did I step on your foot? Sometimes it’s hard to know where to put these pointy heels.”
He limped for a couple of steps. “That is just the sort of thing I’m talking about.”
I danced on as though nothing were different. “Don’t be ridiculous. I never stepped on your foot in eighth grade. In fact, after we broke up, I was nice to you until that day in English when you decided to edit Shakespeare.”
He fought a smile. “I can’t believe you still remember that.”
“You took all the English books and wrote my name under Taming of the Shrew.”
He held me away from him, as though trying to take precautions. “All right, I was mean to you first. I apologize.”
“You just don’t want me to step on your foot again.”
Another smile crept across his face. “Well, if the pointy heels fit . . .”
I stomped my foot down, but in aggravation, not in retaliation. “Logan, you are the most frustrating—”
The music began to fade, and Logan dropped his hand from my waist. “Well, the song is over. Let’s go back.”
I didn’t let go of his hand. “Oh no you don’t. We’re in the middle of a conversation.
Our dates can wait for another song.”
Holding tightly to his hand, I pulled him a few steps closer to the center of the dance floor. As Josh and Cassidy walked past us off the dance floor I gave them a small wave. Josh looked a bit confused, but I didn’t care. It served him right if he had to stand there and watch me dance with Cassidy’s date.
Logan said, “And that’s another thing, Samantha, you’re too bossy,” but he didn’t offer any other resistance. Another slow song came on, and he put his hand back on my waist and moved to the rhythm of the song.
For a few moments I just danced with him, enjoying the feel of his arms around me.
Then I tilted my face up at him. “I believe you were in the middle of apologizing to me for being mean for the past three years.”
“Uh, right, sorry about that.”
I wanted to step on his foot again. “The least you could do is tell me why you act that way.”
He shrugged as though it were actually something he needed to think about. “You know in sophomore English when we put on a scene from Hamlet and you were Queen of Denmark?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, a lot of times you act like you’re still wearing the crown.”
“I do not.”