“You’re done,” he tells the man. His voice is low, but everyone is watching now. They know what’s happening—and they came here for a show, after all.
The man doesn’t leave. “What the hell? I didn’t touch her. She was just a whiny bitch.”
“Then you won’t mind not seeing her. I don’t want to see your ugly face in the club again.”
For a second it looks like the man will fight Blue, which would be insane because Blue is twice as big and three times as tough. The guy is a used-up frat boy, trying to find his kicks after a long day at the office. Whereas Blue is two hundred and fifty pounds of tatted muscle. But a few drinks and a bruised ego can make a person dumb.
The guy stands up, hands curled into fists. “Who the fuck do you—”
And maybe I am having a mental breakdown, because I reach for him then. I place a hand on the arm of this stranger. “Just go,” I say softly. “It’ll only be worse if you stay.”
I’m nobody. Hasn’t he just said as much? Not big and strong and intimidating like Blue. But the man seems to hear me. His eyes focus on mine for a second, and he takes a small step back. He mutters and curses under his breath as he grabs his jacket and walks away, but at least he doesn’t start a fight.
When he is gone, Blue stares at me. He still looks pissed. If anything, he looks more pissed. “What the fuck?” he says.
My eyes widen. He’s pissed at me? “I didn’t start anything with him. I didn’t complain.”
He shakes his head. “That’s the fucking point, Honey. You never complain. But you let him touch you. I saw it.”
I didn’t let him do anything. As if it’s up to me. “If you want me to complain every time someone cops a feel, that’s going to be all night long.”
Something flickers in his eyes. Anger? Regret? Then he snorts and looks away. “You’re done too.”
What? My heart skips a beat. I need this job. Travel is the most dangerous thing we can do. Two girls on the bus would mean attention. Someone to remember us when my father sent people asking. And I knew he would. He’d never give up. “I didn’t do anything,” I whispered.
I didn’t complain. That should have been enough. It was what I’d been trained to do.
“For tonight,” Blue said gruffly. “You’re done for tonight. Can’t dance like that anyway.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about until I feel a drop trail down my cheek. Only then do I realize I’ve started crying. Which means my mascara is surely running. I must look awful. My throat tightens. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
Blue just grunts.
I almost run off the floor, all too conscious of the eyes on me. There are always eyes on me. Everything is a performance. I don’t even bother changing out of my sheer bra and panties. I just tug sweatpants and a tank top on and push out the door, my eyes hot with tears. But I can’t go home like this. Not yet.
The more I feel exposed, the more I need to be alone.
So I make a turn around the building and grab the fire escape. Metal creaks as I haul myself the four feet off the ground and climb the rest of the way up. I dump the duffel bag without preamble and move into a plié. Grand plié. Over and over, fast enough to trip and fall, but I don’t care. I want to fall.
“Honey,” a low voice says.
And I do trip. I’m lucky I don’t twist my ankle, but I manage to take the brunt of it on my palms. Then a strong pair of hands is helping me up, dusting the grime off my pants, inspecting my torn palms.
“Jesus,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I look up at him, face shadowed in the moonlight. He’s so beautiful.
And so cruel to make me want him.
I push away, ready to go back down the sta
irs, but I slide on the loose gravel that collects on the rooftop like snowdrifts. My body pitches forward, far enough over that I see the glistening street and let out a shriek. Then strong hands grasp my waist and pull me back—hard. I’m flush against a wall. Not made of brick, this wall. It’s muscle and will, steady strength and heartbreak.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice low and rough like the floor we’re on.
I’m still breathing too hard, my heart beating too fast. I was so close to falling. And the scariest part is the relief I would have felt.
“You’re always afraid, aren’t you?” he murmurs against my ear.