I swallowed. From behind Sunny, the rest of the wedding party waited for us, for me. I sighed.
I took Sunny’s hand, and he swept me onto my feet. The music started before we merged into the smiling crowd, where each person from the wedding party, as well as immediate family, looked into the eyes of their significant other and moved with the gentle cadence of the song.
To be honest, it was hard not to fall into a sense of romance. The archway of flowers towered over us, the music was moving and smooth, we were all dressed up in our best, surrounded by lovely decor of white linens and roses and lilies, an ocean breeze sweeping through, and Sunny’s hand on my waist.
“Thank you,” he said, drawing me into him so that our chests were almost touching.
“What are girlfriends for?” I replied, my eyes fluttering away from the intensity of his gaze and to his hands as they took mine and placed them at his shoulders while I tried my best to stay out of the photographer’s frames. Once even ducking and tucking my face into his chest and ever so thankful that setting spray prevented my makeup from smearing onto his suit.
“You won’t combust, I promise.”
Was he sure about that?
As we danced, in what was perhaps the world’s longest slow dance, the lights dimmed, and damn if the romantic element didn’t kick up a notch. I giggled at the absurdity. Were they trying to make everyone else fall in love?
“What’s so funny?” Sunny asked, the corner of his mouth curled as if he found my random amusement amusing himself.
“Nothing…”
“But you’re still smiling?”
I tucked my forehead against the crook of his neck and he held me closer, our chests now definitely touching. I felt his hands slowly, delicately glide over my waist to my lower back. And then go just a bit lower. I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from moaning. How was this such a turn-on? How was he such a turn-on?
“I think your ex was crazy for leaving you…” I found myself saying. Aloud.
If Sunny had heard me, he didn’t react. Of course, he was pretty good at not reacting. Maybe he didn’t care, or maybe I’d crossed a sensitive line. For some reason, I wanted to know if he still had feelings for her. But then what? Would I feel hurt, or would I try to be a friend and talk him through it? Both? What would I say? I’d escaped drama most of my life and stayed out of other people’s messes, but for once, I wanted to be pulled into his, if only to help him through it, if only to be this close to him for a while longer.
“Are you okay?” he muttered against my cheek.
“Yes, why?”
“You’re tense.” He began to move his hands back to my waist, back to a respectable place for two people who had, not too long ago, pretty much hated each other.
“No,” I said and guided his hands back to where they had been.
“Okay,” he whispered.
His breath crashed against my temple when he asked, “Is this okay?” His hands dipped just a little lower, to the curve of my spine where my butt ballooned out.
“Yes,” I whispered back.
“This is, um, very nice.” He tapped the top of my butt, and I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning like a fool.
“Ah, you can thank my mama.” Thank her genes and good cooking, and those bored days at home doing squats to the beat of ’90s pop in front of a rainy window.
“Thank you, Auntie.”
I buried my laugh against his neck.
In another instant, the song was over. Sunny left one hand on the curve of my backside and ushered me to our table, pulling the chair out for me once again.
Before he sat down, he slipped off his jacket and draped it around his chair with a sigh of contentment. I imagined he’d been broiling in that jacket.
He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves halfway up thick forearms. And I was shamelessly staring. How was that so incredibly hot? Two veins bulged out of his forearms and my thoughts instantly flashed before my eyes, images of my tongue licking across them.
Okay. Wow. Calm down.
“Can you see?” He looked at me from over his shoulder as the couple, still on the dance floor, took a microphone.
“Through that big head?”
He dramatically threw his head back and rearranged our chairs so that we were at an angle, instead of pushed into the table. “Now?”
“Better.” I leaned around him.
He gripped the underside of my chair and pulled me toward him, until the gap between us had closed. I clenched his forearm as if the sudden movement would’ve actually sent me flying off my seat. My knees uncrossed for a second in the jostle. Sunny placed a hand on my bare knee, muttering, “You okay? Gonna survive?”
I leaned toward him, still clutching his arm. I sort of really liked holding on to him, especially when his arm felt so warm and muscular and solid and real and welcoming and protective and basically everything that made my body respond, that made me want to stay attached to him. My thumb felt over the ridge of the veins I’d just been ogling. Yeah. This was ridiculously erotic.
He didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t shift away. He didn’t remove his hand from my knee, either.
We sat like that, turning our attention to the couple as they gave small speeches and thanked everyone. Then their parents and siblings followed with short speeches of their own. Tears and emotions ensued. Pictures were snapped and the crowd applauded, cheered, wiped their own tears, and so on.
What did we do? We didn’t move, not even for a single clap where warranted. We were glued to each other and preferred to stay that way. I adjusted my crossed legs so that they were tilted toward Sunny’s thigh, which alleviated some pressure off my heels in these shoes. With his hand in place, the movement allowed the hem of my dress to shift up, exposing another inch of my skin. Another inch where his fingers made contact. An inch where his thumb caressed the inside of my knee.
My breath stilled. I didn’t understand how such a simple touch could nearly unravel me. I’d had boyfriends and encounters before. Why was this so different? Why was this so fervent?
His thumb started with a quick movement. Maybe a twitch that he didn’t mean?
