With a few heavy breaths his head falls onto my chest and he continues to hold me in place for a few seconds before lifting me and then lowering me to stand on my own feet.
I tilt my head back against the door and catch my breath as he neatly puts the condom back into the wrapper and puts it into his pocket before pulling his pants back up.
“Remind me to throw that away as soon as we get downstairs.” He laughs and I giggle. “Thank you,” he says and kisses my cheek. “Not for what we just did, but for everything.”
“You never need to thank me, Hardin. You do as much for me as I do for you.” I look into his bright green eyes. “Actually, more.”
“No way.” He shakes his head gently and takes my hand. “Let’s go back down before someone comes looking for us.”
“How do I look?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair and wiping under my eyes.
“Freshly fucked,” he teases and I roll my eyes. “You look beautiful.”
“So do you,” I tell him.
ALMOST EVERYONE IN THE TENT is dancing by the time we return, and it seems that our absence has gone unnoticed. As we take our seats another song begins. I recognize it: “Never Let Me Go,” by Florence and the Machine.
“Do you want to dance?” I ask Hardin, even though I am sure I already know his answer.
“No, I don’t dance,” he says and looks over at me. “Unless . . . you want to?” he adds.
I am surprised by his offer and thrilled that he would dance with me. He holds his hand out for mine, but really I’m the one who leads us onto the checkered dance floor, moving quickly in case he changes his mind. We stay in the back, a good distance from the crowd.
“I don’t have a clue what to do.” He laughs.
“I’ll show you,” I assure him and place his hands on my hips. He steps on my feet a few times, but he catches on quickly. Never in a million years would I have even entertained the thought that Hardin would be dancing at his father’s wedding.
“Sort of a demented song to play at a wedding, isn’t it?” He laughs into my ear.
“Not really; it’s sort of perfect,” I say and lean my head on his chest.
I am aware that we aren’t actually dancing as much as we are just swaying back and forth holding each other, but that’s fine with me. We stay that way for the next two songs, which end up being two of my favorites. “You Found Me” by the Fray makes Hardin laugh as he holds me close to him. The next, a pop song by a boy band, plays, making me smile and him roll his eyes. During both, Hardin gives me some background on his grandmother. She still lives in England, but he hasn’t seen or spoken to her since she phoned him on his twelfth birthday. She took his father’s side during the divorce and defended his drinking, essentially blaming Hardin’s mother for everything, which was enough for Hardin to not want to speak to her again. He seems very comfortable sharing this information with me, so I stay quiet, only nodding and humming in acknowledgment of his remarks.
Hardin makes a few jokes about how annoying and whiny all the songs being played are, and I laugh at him.
“You want to go back upstairs?” he jokes and lowers his hand on my back.
“Maybe.”
“I’ll have to give you champagne more often.” I move his hands back up to my waist and he pouts, which makes me laugh even more. “I’m actually having a pretty decent time,” he admits.
“Me, too. Thank you for coming with me.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
I know he doesn’t mean the wedding but just with me in general. The thought sends warmth through me.
“May I cut in?” Ken asks as the next song begins.
Hardin frowns and looks at me, then back to his father. “Yeah, but only one song,” he grumbles.
Ken laughs and repeats his son’s words: “One song.” Hardin lets go of me, and Ken’s hand goes around my back. I swallow down the uneasy feelings I hold for him. He keeps the conversation light as we dance and my ill feelings are further muted as we laugh at an obviously drunk couple swaying back and forth next to us.
“Would you look at that?” Ken then says, his voice