“Why have you been avoiding me?” His voice is lower and uncharacteristically soft.
“You mean like you avoided me for an entire week? Do I get an explanation for that?”
He works his jaw, assessing me.
“That’s what I thought.”
“So, this is your idea of payback? Are you playing a game with me, Evan?”
I laugh in his face. “Sure, Sebastian. It must be a game. There’s no other explanation. It couldn’t possibly be that I just. Don’t. Like. You.”
He leans in close, bringing his lips close to my ear. I shiver, goosebumps cascading down my arms. Sebastian notices, running the backs of two fingers down my arm. “No. That’s definitely not it.”
Not wanting to play the part of the fool once again, I break free, grab my laptop, and walk over to the couch where I lie down, intent on ignoring him until he goes away or I fall asleep. Whichever comes first.
When I woke up the next morning, everyone was still asleep. Thankful that I didn’t have to face Sebastian after he caught me watching a pornographic indie flick, I quickly dressed and grabbed a muffin on my way out. My shift at the face-painting booth went by quickly, it being opening day and all. I spent my lunch with Kat and the other burlesque girls—minus Selina—and made plans to meet up with them later to see Miles’ act.
Which brings me to now, standing in a crowd of people, watching a shirtless Miles spit fire to the beat of “Firestarter” by The Prodigy from his platform. A bottle of some unidentified liquid swings from his fingers, and he makes a show of bringing it to his lips, filling his mouth with it before spraying it back toward his torch.
“What’s in there?” I ask Kat, shouting over the noise.
“Depends on the night,” she yells, bending close to my ear. “Sometimes it’s alcohol, when he’s feeling reckless. Tonight, I’d say cornstarch.”
I nod, keeping my eyes on the show. The crowd cheers, dancing and swinging their glowsticks and overpriced light-up toys as Miles gallivants across his little stage.
I rub my arms, not anticipating how much it would cool down at nighttime. Kat told me to dress nice, but the short black dress with tiny straps does nothing to keep me warm. Suddenly, I get the feeling that I’m being watched. The back of my neck prickles with awareness, and I fidget with my choker, sliding a finger back and forth in a nervous gesture. I look through the horde of people, only to find Sebastian’s gaze fixed on me. He looks angry, even from here. I hold his stare for a few seconds before he abruptly turns to leave.
“Girl,” Kat says into my ear.
“What?” I ask.
“He wants you. And not a female on Earth can resist a willing McAllister boy.”
“He doesn’t,” I disagree. “And I can.” Resist him, that is. History doesn’t exactly prove my point, but from now on, it’s going to be different.
“Mhm,” Kat says, her sarcasm evident even over the noise. Suddenly, the music comes to an end, and Miles is taking a bow, holding one arm behind his back. I’m starting to realize this guy has a flair for dramatics. A perfect showman. There’s something about him that pulls people in and captures their attention, and it’s more than the whole breathing fire thing.
Kat wraps her fingers around my wrist. “Miles had his turn. Now you have to come watch my act.”
I shoot her a look, not wanting to go anywhere near Selina.
“Selina’s sick,” she says, using air quotes, reading my thoughts. “AKA hungover. Or possibly too drunk to perform. Either way, she won’t be there. I’m headlining tonight.” The way she says it makes it seem like it’s a common occurrence. Interesting.
“Fine,” I concede. “Lead the way.” She beams, pulling me through the sea of people, her honey-brown curls bouncing between her shoulder blades with each step.
Once we’re inside, my jaw drops, taking everything in. The burlesque tent is a huge, red, monster of a tent with a circular stage in the middle. There are multiple areas with couches off to the side with sheer red curtains draped around them, offering privacy. A crystal chandelier that hangs from the ceiling is the only light source, creating a moody atmosphere. Everything inside screams luxury—a stark contrast to the usual grit and grime of the rest of the carnival.
“I picked the wrong job,” I remark, taking in the opulent room.
“It’s not too late.” Kat laughs. “You have to try it at least once. The rush is like nothing you’ve felt before.”
“I’ll think about it.” And I mean it.
Kat leads me to a small table with two chairs, removing a reserved sign before motioning for me to sit. “We always save a couple tables in case we have guests,” she explains. “Do you want a drink before I head back to get ready?”
I shake my head. Legally, I’m not allowed to drink, though I doubt it matters here. Kat gives my shoulder a squeeze. “See you in a few! I’ll be the one with my tits out.”
I roll my eyes, both of us laughing as she turns to leave. “Make me proud!” I cup my hands around my mouth, yelling after her. At my voice, Eros’ head whips toward me from his seat. We notice each other at the same time, and he smirks, clearly amused by my presence. He’s with a few people, but it’s too dark to tell who’s who. I avert my gaze, fighting the urge to see if Sebastian’s with him. Seconds later, Eros is planting his ass in the seat next to me.