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dance floor!” I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or what but I’m really okay with it. We’re on the dance floor and I feel so uninhibited. I’m dancing my ass off as I glance at the table and find Mr. Hawthorne’s eyes trained on me. It makes me feel self-conscious but I try to put it out of my mind. When the song ends, I return to the table, leaving the others behind.
    There’s already another sex on the beach waiting for me. I lean over and whisper, “Thank you”, in Mr. Hawthorne’s ear. He throws me a playful grin but my forwardness surprises me. I slide into my seat with him staring at me, intently.
    He leans up, “He’s right you know.”
    I’m confused. “Who?”
    “The supposedly drunk man. He’s right, drunk or not. You’re fucking gorgeous,” he almost whispers. I feel my face glowing red. Damn, I wish he would stop. He’s gorgeous but I am not at a place in my life where this is something I can handle. I say thank you and return to my drink, trying not to make eye contact with him.
    We sit during the next song, sipping our drinks. Next comes Nick Jonas’ ‘Chains’. Almost as soon as the song starts, there’s a man at the table asking me to dance. I explain it’s nothing personal but I don’t slow dance. When he leaves the table, Mr. Hawthorne turns to me, “Why not?”
    I feel my face flush again but before I catch myself, I spit it out, “Because, I’m not good at it. I feel like I try to lead so I’m sure it just kinda looks like a small wrestling match. So my inner witch doesn’t allow it.” Not wanting to explain that I don’t like being touched or why, I hope he just lets it drop with my explanation.
    He almost giggles, “Your inner witch?” I nod in confirmation. He takes me by the hand, “Well, I think you and your inner witch just haven’t had the right teacher.” And before I can wrap my mind around what’s happening, he is leading me off to the dance floor. Oh shit! Oh no! My nerves begin to choke me. I can’t do this and I don’t know what to say. Once on the dance floor, he wraps his arms around my waist, locks eyes with me and begins to move. I try to follow but I’m so tense, I know it’s not working.
    He grabs my wrists, one in each hand, and wraps my arms behind my back. Oh hell no!! I can’t do this. I want to run. He leans into my ear, “Relax. Don’t think about it so hard. Just melt into me and go with me.” I feel my knees get weak. His words, his hot breath on my ear and his wonderful scent are soothing but it’s still not enough. I feel sick.
    He locks eyes with me again and it’s so intense it’s as though he is looking into my soul. You’ve got this bitch! Don’t let him see how broken you are, my inner witch insists. I begin to loosen up and just move with his flow. We’re almost nose to nose when he smiles, “Breathe Sheridan. You have to breathe.” I feel my face flush; I shift back ever so slightly and look down.
    He takes both my wrists in one hand, raises the other and glides a finger up the side of my neck to my chin. What the hell is this man doing to me?! I want to run. I want to stay. He lifts my chin till our eyes meet again, “Oh no baby girl, you keep those big, beautiful brown eyes right here.” I’m captured by his eyes and we begin to move as if we are one.
    Finally, the song is over and my nerves are easing. He takes me by the hand, leading me back to the table. I’m glad to see that most of the others have returned and I’m not alone with him. We all talk and laugh for the next hour and his eyes rarely leave me. It’s uncomfortable so I try to ignore it as much as possible. No eye contact, no eye contact , I keep repeating in my head.
    That night, back in my apartment, I can’t sleep for thoughts running through my head of the dance. His eyes, his scent, his touch were all amazing but the fact is, I cringe at the thought of them all. I hate being broken. I hate Jarrod Davis. I fucking hate being me. I have to