Bianca
The crowd parted as Isaac led me to the center of the ballroom floor. I was acutely aware of hundreds of eyes on us, watching, judging, speculating. But when Isaac pulled me into his arms, one hand resting lightly on my waist, the other still holding mine, everyone else seemed to fade away.
The orchestra played a slow, sweet waltz as Isaac guided me across the floor. He was an excellent dancer, effortlessly leading me through the steps as if we’d been dancing together for years.
“You’re not bad at this,” I said, surprised.
“You sound shocked. Did you think I’d step all over your toes?”
“I figured you were better at horizontal dancing than vertical.”
His eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting my jab, and then he laughed—a real, genuine laugh that wasn’t
