that obscured everything from view. Like a door slamming in her face. She hoped maybe it was because he was back among his fellow firefighters. She knew things were kind of awkward with some of them, but it felt like more than that.
They joined her friends at a table, and she managed to keep up with the conversation as they drank and ate. Luckily, Eliza was regaling them with stories, so it gave her time to reset. Eventually, after a glass of wine and too many finger sandwiches, Andi had shaken off most of the worry and was enjoying spending time with the people she cared about. Hill seemed to be loosening up a little, too. She reached out and grabbed his hand under the table. He gently squeezed her fingers.
The room had filled up and was echoing with conversations and laughter. The DJ had Andi grinning with all her fiery song choices, but when Katy Perry’s “Firework” ended, CJ didn’t blend it into another track. She spoke into the microphone instead.
“We’re going to kick off karaoke in a few minutes, so start making your choices. But before then, let’s play a few slow ones. Ladies, get those firefighters you bid on out on the dance floor. And don’t let them claim they can’t dance. Anyone can do the high-school-prom penguin.” CJ mimed the stiff side-to-side swaying slow dance that high schoolers often did. “Let’s do this.”
James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain” started up, and Jasper pushed his chair back from the table. He put his hand out to Hollyn. “May I have this dance, milady? I do a fine penguin.”
Hollyn gave him an adoring look and took his hand. “I’d be honored.”
Eliza scooted her chair back as well. “Y’all go dance. I need to go to the little girls’ room.”
“Oh, we aren’t going to—” Andi started, but Hill tightened his grip on her hand.
“I can probably manage a penguin,” he said, lifting her hand. “If you’re willing to join me.”
Andi’s belly did a little flutter. She knew Hill didn’t have the sudden urge to dance. He was doing this for her. “I’d love to.” She let him pull her gently to a stand. “I actually don’t know if I can penguin. I never went to prom.”
Hill frowned, and she could tell that he’d read between the lines. She hadn’t gone to prom because prom had happened post–Evan Longdale. No way would she have been in any state to be held by a boy and not have a compete panic attack. She’d spent her prom night watching Prom Night, parts one, two, and three.
Hill led her out to the dance floor, where a number of other couples had already started to sway under the twinkle lights that had been strung from the ceiling. They found a spot, and she looped her arms around his neck. “You don’t have to this if you don’t want to, you know.”
He squeezed her hip, a slightly sad look on his face. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I love being close to you like this.”
“I love it too,” she said softly and then leaned in to kiss him lightly.
She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Hill didn’t talk, allowing the music to sweep her away a little, and he guided her gently into movements that were definitely smoother than a penguin waddle. Soon, she felt herself sinking into the moment, imagining this was her prom and this was the guy and this was a real date and a real relationship.
They were dangerous thoughts, but she let herself indulge in them for now.
The song ended and blended into Sarah McLachlan’s “World on Fire” and the beat picked up a little. She lifted her head, looking into Hill’s eyes as he guided her into a turn. Sarah sang a line about not being alone in this story’s pages, and Andi felt a surprising urge to cry. She’d always had friends but, on some level, had always felt alone. No one could understand what she’d been through. No one could relate. But what she saw in Hill’s eyes told a different story. The guy knew pain, too. He knew that separate-from-the-world-but-still-living-in-it feeling. He saw her, not the armor she tried to put on each day. He’d known she needed this dance.
Andi reached up and stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, trying to keep her tears in check. “Thank you for this,” she said. “Waiting all these years for my first