8
Lawrence
"We're going to dance," I told Rae, who had somehow materialized at our table to ask if we wanted more to drink.
"Very good. The lady may leave her purse here. No one will touch it."
I knew that to be the case. If they did, they'd have their hand bitten off by an angry grimalkin, but I didn't mention that. "Thank you."
She didn't let go of my hand as we rose and made our way through the growing crowd to the dance floor. Thankfully, only a few other couples occupied it.
We faced each other, now holding both hands.
"Do you know how to dance?" she asked.
"No. I don't know what I was thinking." Only that I had to stop her from studying at me so intently. Her scrutiny reminded me too much of what Ted had told me that afternoon, and it felt as though she had been prying my sec
