He chuckles at my uninterested tone, seeing right through it. “So, this finally going to be the year you hit that? Or are we going to have to watch you moon over her for the next two semesters again?”
I glance over at her cage with a scowl. Whatever is between us, it’s just getting stronger and stronger. Something’s got to break my way with that girl. I thought not seeing her over the summer break would ease things for me but the blue butterfly tattoo on my chest mixed in with the other ink that I got on a drunken binge one hot summer night tells me that didn’t happen. I shake my head at the empty cage and turn away.
“Just pay someone on staff off to get her name, man. Hit that and then quit it. Get her out of your system already.”
“You don’t think I tried that? Fuck, no one will budge on it. Masks takes the safety of their girls seriously. They come and go by the underground garage by Uber. They’ve got security on that too so I can’t even stake out the exit.” I toss back my drink and pour another from the bottle our server dropped off. “The only way I’m getting in is if Butterfly lets me.”
Beckett pulls a laughing girl into his lap, his fingers going straight to her inner thigh with no complaints from her. The girl’s friends crowd around our table and it doesn’t take long for Jude to have his own crotch companion. Me, I just sit back and wait for her to come back from break so I can watch some more.
SAVY
Itoss the pink wig onto the counter and take off my wings before slumping into my dressing room chair. I tilt my head back and close my eyes but I still see those hard, jade-green eyes framed by long black lashes watching my every move. God, he’s intense. I might have swooned like a fool over Hunter for the last few years but this man is the one I burn for. His eyes promise all the dark and depraved things he would do to me if I ever caved and gave him my name.
Except…he wouldn’t, because the dancer he wants isn’t the woman I am. He wants the fantasy I sell and real-life me would not only fall short but would have him either howling with laughter or looking at me with disgust and disdain. So, I keep the fantasy alive night after night as I dance for him, behind my mask.
A cherry red wig lands on top of my pink one as Stella drops into her chair beside me, shaking out her blond waves. She side-eyes me with a smirk.
“That was a hot fucking move with bar boyfriend. Throwing yourself off the swing against the bars? I bet he almost came in his pants right then and there.” She chuckles with an eye roll as a dark blush heats my cheeks. “Damn it, Sav, you kill me! You need to get over yourself and take pity on that man. Throw the guy a bone. What’s the worst thing that could happen? He rides you hard, gives you multiple O’s, and then you walk away.”
I reach for the contact lens case and makeup remover wipes with a shake of my head and mumble, “He doesn’t want me, Stel. He wants the butterfly.”
Stella unzips her thigh-high boots with a scowl. “It’s been two years and I STILL don’t get you, girl. How…how can you go out there and make men drool every night and then take off your mask and…disappear into this scared little bird? You could have your pick, babes. And fuck that Hunter guy! If he was a real man, he would have taken his shot to introduce you to all the ways a man’s supposed to make a woman burn. I bet bar boyfriend would spend hours and hours worshiping you until you had to beg him to stop.”
My blush has gone nuclear at the picture she paints but I know I’m not brave enough to find out so I purse my lips and wipe away the thick pink coating them without replying. Stella huffs out her annoyance and starts to take her makeup off too.
“Fine, forget him. Will you come out with us tomorrow night? We’re doing girls' night. No club. Just dinner and drinks at Loco’s. You need to come out and have some fun, Savy. Relax a little.”
I send her a look of love but shake my head. I’ve loved Stella from the moment she smudged black around my eyes and told me I could do anything but I just don’t fit in with her and her friends. From the way they dress and talk so effortlessly about men and sex to the confidence that shines from them. I just don’t fit and I end up feeling even more self-conscious around them. Better I stick to cozy pj’s, a cup of tea, and a good book than try to fit in where I don’t belong and make a fool of myself.
Once I’m in my street clothes, I drop a kiss on her head and wave my goodbyes, heading for the door. I smile at Carl, our exit security, as he opens the back door of an Uber waiting in a line of them. The female driver is a regular and greets me by name and then leaves me to decompress without small talk. I lean back into the leather and flex my arches to try and ease the ache that comes from dancing for hours in high heels as I watch the buildings go by through the window with a sigh.
It's not that I don’t want to fit in with Stella and her girlfriends, it’s that I just don’t know how to speak their language. For the millionth time, I wish I had a mother growing up. She died giving birth to me and it destroyed my dad so much that he wrapped me in security and kept me tucked away where I would always be safe. He had a very demanding job so I spent most of my childhood surrounded by nannies, tutors, and staff. I found friends and adventure through books and just stayed in them instead of being out in the real world until he would come home at night and share small pieces of himself with me. He was my whole world for so long until he was gone.
The car drops me off and when I get to the door, I turn and wave my thanks, appreciative of her for waiting until I get in safely. By the time I get up to my studio on the third floor, I’m ready to drop with exhaustion. It’s been a hell of a week and pouring my emotions into dance tonight has left me feeling raw and drained. I’m looking forward to the next couple of days when I can hide away and lick my wounds, try to get over the ugliness that was my first sexual experience, and move on.
I drop my bag on the desk chair, pull off my shoes, slide my feet into oversized teddy bear slippers and walk the few paces to my tiny kitchen to turn on the kettle. As I wait for it to boil, I scan the small space that I call home. It’s not much, one big room with a double bed squeezed into one corner, a small desk, a cozy love seat and coffee table facing a tv stand, a micro kitchen, and a two-person bistro table. I could have something much bigger and more luxurious if I wanted but I grew up haunting the halls of ten thousand square feet like a lost little girl. The studio is the perfect size for me. It’s cozy and makes me feel safe.
As my tea steeps, I strip down and pull on a fuzzy fleece pajama set covered in laughing ducks and crawl into bed, propped up by an abundance of pillows. I snag my e-reader, open my current book, and get lost in a different world where the women are brave and fierce and the men will burn the world down for her. I sip my tea and highlight my favorite passages and wish I could let myself channel these characters. Maybe one day…
The weekend goes by way too fast and I’m shelving books from my cart when I spot Hunter at a table with yet another giggling girl. I try - I really do - to not let it affect me but I can’t help it. I’m such an idiot. I fell hook, line, and sinker for his fake charm and interest. I hadn’t even made him work for it, I was so enthralled with the fact that he was speaking and flirting with me. All he had to do was show the smallest bit of attention to me and I fucking swooned for him and followed him back to his place like a pathetic little duckling who had imprinted on him.
I sigh deeply at just how pathetic I am and a bang shatters the silence of the library when I slam the book from my cart into its spot on the shelf. I wince and glance around with an apologetic expression and my eyes meet the amused hazel ones of Tate Valor. I can feel a blush start on my neck and rise to my cheeks to have him looking at me.
God played favorites with this man, giving him the body of a gladiator and a face to make angels weep. His dark blond hair is artfully messed and the few longer locks falling over his forehead just adds to the square jaw and pouty lips he was blessed with.
I blink away the daze of his good looks and scan the table he’s sitting at piled high with open books. Tate’s not usually a regular in the library. He usually checks out what he needs and leaves. His deep voice has my gaze flying back to his.
“Bad day?”
My head darts around, checking behind me. Is he talking to me? Why is he talking to me?
“I only ask because you seemed sad last time I was here too.”
I swallow past my confusion and move a little closer, dropping my eyes to the books to see what he’s working on.
“Um, no, I’m fine.”
He looks over at Hunter and his fan of the week with a raised eyebrow.
