I can’t look back. I’ll throw up if I see any more eyes.
So, I nod, mostly to encourage myself, and I slip my hands up the silk to take my mind away from how much I really don’t want to do this.
I told Razor I would, though. That Icould. And I will.
Raising his goggles up, his legs straddled provocatively around the seat of his bike, Razor sends me a wink accompanied by a salacious smile. “Remember what I said?”
Said? When?
My mind carousels, rewinding back through every conversation we’ve had regarding this. But I must take too long because he’s carving through me with a rusty laugh and fitting his goggles into place. “You’ll feel me, stargirl. I’m here with you.”
Per usual, I fall into his trap.
Not that it’s a bad thing right now. Hearing his voice above all noise and being reassured I’m not alone or slowly sinking through wet soil is abating the strife of being high-strung. But it’s also winding me tight with the ropes of secrecy everyone’s slowly killing me with.
The feedback piercing through the speakers doesn’t bother me this time. I catch Razor’s gaze through his tinted frames for a second, then lookover at Gwen strutting off to the side of the Globe in her bedazzled ringleader coat.
“Music?” Gwen snickers. “Ohh, you don’t need music to feel the emotion my girl dances with. I want y’all to give a very special applause for Bunny. And be gentle. Because I won’t be.” Gwen cheeses widely, batting her fluffy lashes over the microphone she’s holding high with pride.
Like she’s in full control of the crowd, appropriate claps stir up the heavy air, which raises my body temperature and percolates sweat to bead uncomfortably against the plastic hiding my inner turmoil.
While I die where I stand, Duse and Aries surround the globe in their matching glitzy leather, each holding a gas pump attached to fuel caddies.
I don’t know when they dropped the hoops and swords.
I’m gonna bet Cash didn’t know about the swap for gasoline either, considering he’s cursing his confusion at my back.
It’s minor. But it’s another thing I was left out of.
Constantly being ostracized like a child burns my ears. It has the fright of performing in front of such a massive audience inching back, so that vexation can take the spotlight, so I feed off ire instead of the trepidation that makes me weak.
While Gwen gives her usual introduction and expectation of appropriate applause, I center myself, reaching into the depths of my mind to consciously flip the switch away from being pensive.
Although it doesn’t feel healthy to cling to anger, I’m taking my cue of the lights clicking to orange and effortlessly climbing my silks.Satisfactionpunctures through the speakers, signaling the guys to start their bikes and start rocking.
It shakes the Globe a little, which throws me off guard, my hands anchoring tighter into the slick fabric for extra grip. And, naturally, myscared bunny heart starts pumping faster. Harder. The swelling music and loud engines breaking through my focus and encouraging my anxiety to win.
My muscles knot and a painful flutter burns across my chest, trying to concentrate on the proper wrap I’m getting my legs in.
Don’t screw this up for everyone. Breathe. Focus.
I inhale steadily, keeping my focus away from the watching eyes, and once the pulse of the song strobes the lights over us, the loud bikes are ripping around me and abating some of the stress of being watched.
They’re distracting, though. All three of them are buzzing around me with their headlights, shaking the Globe even harder and going in different directions my brain cannot process.
But it’s the most alive I’ve felt in two years.
The breeze they’re rushing around my body lifts my tamped skin, encouraging the first smile I’ve ever performed with. I twist and lean, using the wound-up tension to spin into a drop that locks around my leg, my hair fluttering and spiraling around in the pulsating orange.
Engaging my core and using the momentum of my silks circulating me, I vault upward, extending an arm back as far as I can without being in their way, cycloning to the techno beat that has flames roaring and bursting on either side of the Globe.
Razor was right. I do feel him. All around me.
It’s not just his eyes touching every surface of my body. A gloved hand is meeting my back, sparking a thrill that syncs up to the spitting embers twinkling in the night sky. He’s going the opposite direction, so his physical touch is quickly coasting around my rib, getting lost in my silk, then meeting my other rib for a steady dance around to my back again.
The crowd gets louder, overwhelming the music with screams and ear-splitting whistles.
Smiling ignorantly, a laugh manages to buzz my extended throat, fluttering off like I just might be able to get used to this. I start to sit upright to keep performing, but Razor’s touch is disappearing in the blur around me—and my mask is getting snatched from my head.
