𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 • anthony lockwood

25. two left feet and unresolved defeats

chapter twenty-five,
two left feet and unresolved defeats.

SOPHIE DIDN'T GET VERY FAR BEFORE A HAND WRAPPED AROUND HER UPPER ARM. She spun around quickly but her shoulders immediately relaxed when her eyes landed on Lockwood. His brows drew together when his gaze met hers. "Hey, is everything okay?"

She was absolutely fuming but she wasn't going to tell him that because that would only lead to her having to explain the not-so-pleasant encounter she just had and she definitely didn't want to have that discussion. All in all, she was okay, just riled up a bit but she knew none of what the Fittes kid said was true. It obviously wasn't, right? She didn't get special treatment just because she was... whatever Lockwood and her were to each other; another conversation best saved until later.

Her cheeks immediately flushed when she realised she hadn't answered him. "I'm okay," she stumbled out a quick reply, her large eyes finding his once again. "I thought you were socializing?"

"It was quite boring, really," he admitted, letting his fingers trail down her arm before clutching her hand. Sophie appreciated the gesture, but all she could worry about at that moment was who was watching them. Were people actually talking about them? "I thought you might appreciate my company."

"Always," she smiled, doing her best to ignore the blurred figure in the corner of her vision who was burning a hole into the side of her head.

Lockwood glanced over the way Sophie just came, his wandering gaze pausing on the agent from earlier before landing back on the curly-haired girl. "Are you sure you're okay, Soph?"

She quickly nodded, not daring to look anywhere but at him. From the worry line between his brows and the small pull on his lips, it was obvious he wasn't convinced. She fixed her grip on his hand, softening her eyes. "I'm okay now."

He hesitated, his mouth pulling into a firm line until suddenly the familiar bright spark lit up his eyes and he flashed her his signature gigawatt smile; his go-to smile for when he's trying to charm his way out of trouble. "Let's dance."

"Absolutely not," she blurted out, her eyes growing impossibly wider. Her protest however didn't stop him from pulling on the hand gripping his, drawing her closer. She stumbled towards him, subconsciously reaching out to steady herself against his shoulder. "Nobody else is dancing."

"That's not true," he countered, letting his free hand settle on the small of her back. He gestured his head to the corner of the room where an old couple was standing between the crowd, wrapped in each other's arms.

"That's not dancing, Lockwood," she gaped, fixing her stance. He was going to make sure she was dancing one way or another but if she didn't cooperate at least a little she was sure she was going to end up falling over and if her dancing with her boss wasn't enough gossip for Monday morning, she was sure her slapping off the floor would fix that. "They're not even moving."

He made a point to narrow his gaze on the man and woman, as if staring at them long enough was going to disprove her point. "I'm sure they're dancing in their eyes," he added before turning his attention back to her. "You need to respect your elders, Sophie."

"I respect you enough don't I?" She mumbled only now realising she had been unknowingly following his slow steps. Now that she was aware, however, it suddenly made it ten times more complicated to follow his lead.

He gasped, feigning a shocked expression but he couldn't hide the amused tug to his lips. "I'm barely a year older than you."

"The grey hair begs to differ," she was lying obviously but her gaze still did a quick scan over his dark hair as if she was suddenly going to find what she was looking for.