I pulled it out, shielding the screen under the table.
She smells like vanilla. Too sweet.
I looked up. Cal was still smiling at the girl, nodding at whatever she was saying. He hadn’t broken character, but his phone was in his hand behind her back.
She’s gorgeous. Smile more. Management is here watching.
I am smiling. My face hurts from smiling.
I hate this.
She keeps putting her hand on my chest. I wish it was yours.
A jolt of heat went straight to my groin, followed immediately by a wave of bitterness.
Do your job, Kincaid.
I watched him read it. I saw his jaw tighten. He typed fast, his thumb flying over the screen, then shoved the phone in his pocket.
He turned back to the girl, grabbed her waist with both hands, and spun her around, pulling her flush against him. The beat of the song peaked, and he grinded against her. He laughed, loud and fake, and buried his face in her neck.
My phone buzzed again.
I’m pretending it’s you. I’m pretending this dress is your shirt.
I’m pretending I’m going to drag you into the bathroom and get on my knees.
Stop telling me to do my job and tell me you want me.
I couldn’t breathe. The air in the club felt suddenly thin.
I stood up abruptly. “I need air,” I choked out to Evan.
“Bathroom?” Evan asked, his eyes soft.
“Yeah. Bathroom.”
I walked away. I didn’t look at Cal. I just walked toward the back hallway where the private restrooms were.
Thirty seconds later, the heavy door to the hallway opened. Cal slipped inside. The noise of the club muffled instantly.
He didn’t say a word. He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising, and shoved me into the narrow, dim stairwell used by the wait staff. The door clicked shut, plunging us into semi darkness lit only by a red Exit sign.
“You pushed me,” Cal hissed, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and something frantic. “I was doing it. I was putting on the show. Why did you walk away?”
“Because I couldn’t watch it!” I snapped, shoving him back.
“You told me to!” Cal shouted, throwing his hands up. “You told me, Silas! ‘Be the playboy, Cal. It keeps us safe, Cal.’ So I’m being the playboy! I’m letting her touch me. I’m letting her breathe on me. And then you look at me like I’m cheating on you!”
“It feels like you are!” I yelled, the confession ripping out of me before I could stop it.
The silence that followed was heavy. The air in the stairwell was hot and stagnant.
Cal stared at me, his chest heaving. The manic energy from the ring and the club drained out of him, leaving him looking young and wrecked.
“It feels like it for me too,” Cal whispered. “When I’m with them… I feel sick, Si. I have to close my eyes and pretend.”
“Do you?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Do youreallyhave to pretend, Cal? Or is that just what you tell me?”
