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“Focus. Wedding. Please don’t make me go alone.”

“Is it a date?” I ask.

“More like I’m being tasked with finding a responsible chaperone . . .”

“A chaperone?”

“I’m kidding, Anna. It’s just as friends. No strings, zero expectations.”

He really does think we’re pals. Maybe we are. God, it’s been so long since I’ve made new friends I don’t even remember how to do it.

“If I say yes, will you stop coming to my dance class?”

“Afraid I’ll steal your thunder?”

I roll my eyes, fighting back a smile. “Casper.”

“Fine. I’ll stop coming to the class.”

If he’s expecting a fun plus-one who likes to party, he should ask someone else.

“I’m sober,” I tell him.

I wait for him to give me “the look.” The one that either widens with curiosity or lowers with disappointment. The one where I see the gears in their head turn as they speculate whether I was a raging alcoholic or what drug brought me to my rock bottom. Like choosing not to drink or partake in drugs becomes the most interesting thing about me. Oddly, Casper doesn’t do that.

“Me too!” he says quickly.

I blink. “Oh . . .” Well, that makes it easy.

“Are you uncomfortable around alcohol or cannabis?” he asks matter-of-factly.

The lack of reaction is almost startling. “No.”

“Okay.”

I wait for more, but he stays silent, his gaze fixed on mine.

We study each other and I purse my lips while I consider the pros and cons. There’s no reason not to go, other than it’s a new experience and diverts from my usual schedule—but this is an opportunity to go outside my comfort zone. Take chances. Besides, it’s just as friends.

I exhale. “’Kay.”

“Great! I’ve got your number so I’ll contact you with the details,” he says, standing up and grabbing his things.

My brow furrows. “You’re leaving?”

“Yup, I got what I came for.” He winks. “Have a nice class!”

Casper strides out of the room just as Fern enters from a side door and prepares to lead us in more stretching. Unbelievable. The reality of attending a wedding with my tattoo artist sets in and this time it’s definitely anxiety stirring inside me. It’s okay. This is good, I tell myself. I’m taking chances. Building rooms onto my foundation. After all, it’s Casper . . . and we’re just friends.

The ladies were disappointed you didn’t stay for the class.

Casper

I didn’t want to upstage you.

Typical man. You guys get your first pair of heels and suddenly think you’re Coyote Ugly.

Casper