That song “Truffle Butter” comes on, and a small group of dancers circle up and start battling.
Look at me adapting and using my new word already.
Each person has their solo moment to show off what they can do before passing it off to the next person. Dub is fantastic. His body is as much an instrument as my piano, and he plays it with confidence. He commands everyone’s attention with the fluidity of every movement. Popping his shoulders, rolling his body, every motion purposeful but effortless.
And then it’s Kai’s turn. I’m nervous for her. I’ve seen her teach her dance class, and I can tell she’s good, but this guy, these dancers, are on another level. I hope she can hold her own.
As soon as she starts moving, my jaw hangs open. I knew she was talented, but I had no idea how little I had seen. Not only is she holding her own, but she is more magnetic than Dub ever could be. She spins, dark hair swinging out behind her. She drops to her haunches, rolling her hips back and forth, and then pops upright, arms extended over her head, eyes closed, head rolled back. She loses herself in the sensual pull of the music, and she’s making love to the beat. Thrusting, grinding, her body rolling, finding the pulse embedded in the lyrics.
My dick is like a lead pipe under this table. I want her to the point of physical pain. There is only one release for this, and that’s having Kai spread beneath me, her body the harbor I sink into. Unrestricted access to all that sweetness. I want to tear the roof off this place because she won’t give herself to me. I feel Jimmi’s eyes on me, watching me watching Kai, but I can’t help it. And even though I know the longer I watch Kai, the more Jimmi will hate her, I can’t look away.
Dub steps into Kai’s space, and her eyes open slowly like she expected him, like she lured him. He cradles her hips with his hands and pulls her into his body. Kai doesn’t miss a beat, but twists until her back presses into his chest. She rolls her hips into his before spinning away, teasing him over her shoulder, her eyes holding him captive. He chases her, grabs her, lifts her. She wraps her legs around his waist and falls back until her hair brushes the floor. She snaps herself back up, pressing their chests together, and then she slides down his body like honey, coating him with her arms and legs before sliding away again. It’s like their bodies know exactly what to do. Instinct, talent, and elegant athleticism spark a connection between their bodies that has everyone around them cheering and high-fiving and clapping.
When the song ends, that confident sensuality Kai wore like skin during the music, falls away. I think I just witnessed the alter ego she told me shows up when she performs. She leaves the center of the circle, and I know her well enough to see self-consciousness settle around her shoulders. She laughs up at Dub, but it’s not reckless and free like moments before. I know that feeling. True freedom is only really found in those moments where you’re unleashed into your purpose. Something comes alive in me that lays dormant when I’m not making music. I will never shine brighter than I do behind a piano or a microphone.
The stage is my galaxy. It’s Kai’s too, and she’s destined to be a shooting star. My days of having her to myself are numbered, but I’m okay with that. I want that for her. I’ll share her with the rest of the world, but if I didn’t know before, I know now. I want to see her soar. Hell, I’m determined to help her soar higher than she ever imagined, if she’ll let me, but when she comes down, I want her to land with me.
NOTHING COMPARES TO THE EXHILARATION OF performing, even if it’s in a bowling alley on a makeshift dance floor. And dancing with someone of Dub’s caliber—absolute choreographic theater. It’s one of the few things that penetrates the wall of grief that still surrounds my heart sometimes. The only thing that has come close to comparing, to exceeding is . . .
“Dub, do you see Rhyson?” I crane my neck to peer over the dense crowd. He’s not where we left him.
“I’m sure he’s in here somewhere.”
But I don’t see him. There was something hungry and possessive about the way Jimmi Dawson watched Rhyson. And she wasn’t happy to see me here. She wasted no time pawning me off on Dub. What if they’ve slipped off to the bathroom for a quickie? Even the thought stabs a fork through my heart. I did this. I shut him down at every turn. He’s not a monk. Who could blame him for seeking out someone else? Certainly not me. I have no right to—
“Did you hear me, Kai?” Dub takes my arm to regain my attention.
“Huh? No, what’d you say?”
“I asked if you wanna be in the video I’m choreographing.” He twists his full lips into a knowing smile. “You were too busy looking for your boyfriend.”
“He’s not.” I frown up at him. “Rhys and I really are just friends.”
“I’ll take you at your word.” He shrugs. “You in or what?”
Obsessing over Rhyson, I almost missed exactly the kind of opportunity I’ve been waiting for.
“I’m in.”
“Great. I’ll get your number and send you details.” Dub nods his head toward a section of tables and booths. “And if you’re still looking for your friend, there he is.”
Jimmi sits across from Rhyson, and I recognize Grip, the rapper, whom Rhyson’s talked about some before, at the table too. Rhyson faces away from me, his arm draped casually around the slim shoulders of a girl whose face I can’t see. Dark, thick hair falls to the middle of her back. She turns to say something to him, and I see her profile. She’s striking. I feel like I walked into a brick wall and all the air has been knocked out of me. Of course, he’s free to date. Free to see other people. Sleep with other people. But actually seeing him touching another woman, affectionate with another woman, sets a small fire at the base of my throat, like I could cry. Ridiculous.
Get it together, Kai.
When we reach the group, I take the seat beside Rhyson, glance at him, and find him already looking at me. Looking from me to Dub and back again, jaw tight, hands gripping his knees. He told me it was okay to dance with Dub, but maybe seeing me with someone else bothers him as much as seeing his arm all over the gorgeous woman seated on his other side bothers me.
Her hair is dark, but burnished with streaks of copper like Rhyson’s. She passes her eyes over me so sharply I feel like a razor sliced across my face. Her eyes are beautiful, stormy grey, like Rhyson’s. I glance between the two of them a few times. They could be . . .
“Kai, this is my sister, Bristol.” He tugs on his sister’s hair. “Bris, this is my . . . my friend, Kai.”
I bite my lip until it hurts holding back the big, goofy smile that threatens to take over my whole face. His sister! Of course. His family is the one thing Rhyson hasn’t talked much about, except to say he doesn’t talk much about them.
“Nice to meet you.” I smile at Bristol, but she doesn’t smile back. What is it with the women in his life? So far, Jimmi and Bristol have been rude for no reason.
“So you’re one of Uncle Grady’s students?” she asks instead.
“Yeah.” I nod and wipe at my neck. I didn’t realize what a sweat I worked up dancing. Rhyson slides his glass of water across to me, not watching while I take a grateful sip.
“Interesting. Yeah, nice to meet you.” Bristol slides her eyes from me to Dub, her smile growing wider, her eyes flirting. “And you, too. Dub, was it?”
He smiles and takes the seat beside me, not biting what she’s baiting.
“And this is Marlon.” Rhyson gestures to Grip. “Marlon, Kai Pearson.”
“Heard a lot about you,” Marlon says, a polite smile on his face. “You guys did it out there. That was fire.”