I grabbed his forearm and pulled him away from his spot on the dance floor. "Stand here." I positioned him beneath the air vent. I had forgotten how nice it is to touch strong arms and shoulders. "I know," he said in regards to the new source of air. "It's nice," he added. I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. I'm afraid he's too good for me. I'm also afraid he's not. And that this could actually work.