Chapter
Eleven
April couldn’t believeshe’d let Sasha talk her into this.
The dance studio was crowded and loud, music blaring, people laughing, which wasn’t exactly the kind of environment April wanted right now. She felt antsy, nervous, and couldn’t figure out what she needed to calm her down.
Normally, she’d call Ramona.
Actually, no. Normally, Ramona would be here with her.
The two of them had barely talked over the last week. They’d texted here and there, and Ramona had asked more about Daphne, but April hadn’t offered much. She knew she did this—retreated when she felt hurt, self-isolated until she was ready to talk. And Ramona knew this about her. She also knew she was being childish—in fact, Ramona had texted several times today asking April to call her—but April just couldn’t seem to work herself out of this funk that had settled over her since she’d gotten to Cloverwild.
Since Daphne.
But no, she knew that was a lie. As much as she hated to admit it, April Evans had been in a funk for much longer than that. Daphne Love was just the complicated icing on the cake.
She sighed, leaned against a wall with her red Solo cup full of…she wasn’t even sure. It was light purple and smelled like pine needles and soap. Tasted like that too. She set the cup down after one sip and folded her arms, her eyes finding Daphne of their own accord, who was walking around with Sasha. Daphne wore a red halter-style sundress printed with cherry blossoms, the waist cinched and the skirt flaring a little to her knees. The excitement in the room increased, cheers swelling as more people joined in the fray.
Suddenly, Daphne’s eyes flicked to April’s as she and Sasha started dancing as well. April felt something pinch in her stomach, though she didn’t know what or why, so she looked away, down, anywhere else.
She fiddled with the silver rings on five out of ten fingers, letting her mind wander. It had been over a week since Nicola had invited April to try for the Devon—a week exactly since she’d also extended the opportunity to Daphne—and April still had no ideas. Nothing concrete at least, just color and blurry images, afeelingrather than any way to express it visually. She’d started a new sketchbook just for this project, and was at least thirty pages in with nothing but crap filling every one of them. It had been so long since she’d created her own art, rather than working off a client’s vision for their tattoo, that she wasn’t sure she even knew how to come up with original ideas anymore.
“Your girl is doing well,” Sasha said, appearing next to April, a slight sheen of sweat dotting her brow.
April straightened as she realized she’d been watching Daphne dance, her lavender hair glowing in the dim lighting, the mirrors catching her reflection like a prism. She was laughing, her eyes glittering at her dance partners as she held their shoulders and twirled around them.
“She’s not my girl,” April said.
Sasha laughed softly. “And yet, you knew exactly who I was talking about.”
April glared at her, but Sasha’s gaze was on the dancers.
“You’re not dancing anymore?” April asked.
Sasha side-eyed her. “I will if you will.”
April lifted a brow. “Is that a dare?”
“It’s one hundred percent a dare.”
April laughed and pushed off from the wall. “Oh, I am in.” She never turned down a dare—at least, she never had before, and dammit, she wasn’t going to start now. Because at this moment,thiswas what she wanted—her old self back.
A song by a popular queer artist started up, the beat fun and sensual. April headed into the group of dancers, Sasha laughing behind her. She lifted her arms in the air and let out a whoop as she pushed farther into the crowd, others closing around her like a force field. It had been a long time since she’d gone out dancing like this, felt the press of other bodies. Since deleting all of her dating apps, she simply hadn’t had the motivation, but now, god, she wondered why she’d ever given this up.
The adrenaline.
The anonymity.
She grinned at the people dancing around her, most of them with another person, arms slung around necks, barely any space between their bodies. Her eyes met a man’s—broad shoulders and dark skin, a dimpled grin that would make anyone swoon. She reached out and pulled him close. His arms went immediately around her waist, hips pressed just where she wanted them. She looped her hands around his neck and he drew her even closer, one leg sliding between hers. She laughed as he twirled her around the other couples—a few had even throupled up, and the pheromones were thick and heady.
This was exactly what she needed.
The man lifted her arms from around his neck and spun her into someone else, another man with gingery hair and biceps the size of her thighs. The new man dipped her, then turned her around so her ass was right against his hips, both of their lower halves swirling in ways that would’ve marked a movie as PG-13.
At the very least.
She loved it. Every minute of it, a new face every time she turned, encircled by arms she’d never felt before. She laughed as she danced with a woman in a twirly dress who was clearly a dance instructor, leading April effortlessly in some kind of salsa-like moves before disappearing, a tall person with box braids taking April in their arms next.
