It’s been so long since I’ve been kissed like this that I’d almost forgotten how amazing it is.
He suddenly rips his lips from mine, and I blink my eyes open, struggling to see through the fog of desire. I touch my swollen lips as I stare at his hard, furious face in confusion.
Why does he look salty AF? And so cold all of a sudden?
“I think he got the message,” he snaps, jerking his head to the empty spot where Cole was standing.
“I … ah … um … thanks?” I’m uncharacteristically tongue-tied and confounded. I offer him a small, shy smile.
His eyes bore into my skull, and his scowl deepens as he turns the full extent of his mocking glare on me. “That was a one-time thing, and it won’t be happening again.”
Hurt slices across my chest, and his callous rejection heats my cheeks. Has he forgotten who started this? That this was all his idea? “Don’t worry,” I say, bitterness flooding my tone. “I got the message. And I’m not in the habit of kissing asshats, so I’ve zero interest in repeating the experience.” Keeping my head high, I turn my back on him and return to the safety of my friends.
CHAPTER SIX
ShawnLevi
I hurt her. I know I did. It was written all over her face that night. And she carries it with her like an invisible load, ignoring me in class and whenever we bump into one another around campus. It’s been four days since the party, since I majorly fucked up, and I haven’t stopped beating myself up over it.
I should never have kissed her.
Because, fuck it, now I know what she tastes like, how good she feels pressed up against me, and I’m craving her like she’s my new favorite addiction.
But it can’t happen again.
It shouldn’t have happened the first time.
I can tell myself I was helping her out, but that would be a lie. Yes, I wanted that douche to stop looking at her with those forlorn lovesick eyes but not as much as I wanted to lock lips with her.
She is so fucking beautiful.
So unconventional.
So unaware.
And it only makes me want her even more.
I don’t know what this girl has done to me, but I can’t evict her from my head. God knows, I’ve tried, but it’s as if she’s taken up residence there, and I don’t know how the fuck to deal with it.
I can’t risk starting anything with her, because it isn’t safe, but try telling that to my selfish heart and my greedy cock. I’ve jerked off at least three times daily since Friday night, always to images of her in my mind.
The fact her roomie is, apparently, obsessed with me is another complication. Another reason to stay away. Because I can’t risk discovery.
Since I failed to show up to the movie premiere, the media is speculating about where I am. They know I’m not home. That I wouldn’t willingly refuse to support the song I contributed to the latest Tom Cruise movie. While we haven’t released details of my stalker to the press, they have formed their own conclusions, and now the story is growing wings.
As if on cue, my cell rings, and I answer Devin’s call. “Hey, man.”
“Shawn, how are things?”
“Cool.”
“Glad to hear it.” He pauses momentarily. “Who’s the girl?”
“What girl,” I lie, almost like it’s second nature.
“The pretty blonde you were with Friday night.”
“Great,” I deadpan. “It’s a wonder you let me piss in private.” As much as I’m impressed with their discretion—I’ve only noticed one of his men watching me on two occasions, and most times I forget they’re even there—I don’t like the fact some asshat bodyguard was probably checking Dakota out while we were kissing.
“My guys know when to afford you privacy,” he assures me before pausing again. “But I thought the plan was to stay away from girls.”
“I’m trying.”
“Well, try harder. Girls are a distraction you don’t need right now.”
“Yes, Dad.” Devin’s exasperated sigh filters down the line, but he ignores my teasing. “Did you just call to bust my ass over Dakota, or was there another reason?”
“I’ve been going through that list of names you gave me, and a couple of flags have been raised. In particular, I wanted to ask you about Matt Fairchild and Nick Montgomery.”
All good humor evaporates.
Because we believe this is personal, Devin asked me to provide a list of anyone I felt might be holding a grudge as well as anyone I’ve come into close contact with since hitting the limelight. Luke issued him a list of everyone who works with me, past and present. It’s a monster list of potential suspects—and that’s even if my stalker is someone I know. It could just as easily be a crazy fan. But the real scary thing is how few of those names are people I could genuinely call friends.
Most everyone on that list has some reason to hate me.
Especially Matt and Nick.
I walk to the couch and flop down on it, closing my eyes as pressure settles on my chest. “What do you want to know?”
“How they reacted when they got dropped and whether you’ve had any contact with them since.”
Bile travels up my throat, and shit I try to avoid thinking about swarms my mind.
Matt and Nick were my two best friends growing up. We were thick as thieves from the time we were knee-high. It was Matt’s idea to start up a band in ninth grade. I could already play the guitar, drums, and keyboard by then, but as I had the best voice, it was agreed I’d take lead vocals and guitar. Nick was our drummer, and Matt played bass guitar. What started out as messing around in the garage attached to Matt’s house became something more serious when we uploaded some of our videos to YouTube and became an overnight sensation.
“When we first signed with Dynamite XO Records, the initial contract was for the three of us,” I start explaining. “But after the first six months, the head honcho cut the guys because he said I was the star and they were deadwood holding me back.” Bitterness laces my tone. “He paid the guys off, and they went back home. Matt was pissed as all hell. Don’t blame him. It was a shitty thing to do, and I was a shithead for not fighting harder for them.”
“You were, what, fifteen, at the time?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t excuse it.”
“And your mom was still your manager then, right?” Devin has clearly done his homework.
“Yeah. She was even more uncomfortable with it, but she was out of her depth, and there was nothing she could do for the guys.”
“And what about Nick? You said Matt was pissed. How did Nick react?”
“He was upset, but he was always the more laid-back of the three of us, and he seemed to handle it better. He said he didn’t blame me but …” It doesn’t need to be said. Devin knows what I mean.
“Have you had any contact with them since?”
I shake my head before remembering I’m on my cell. “No,” I quietly admit. It’s one of my biggest regrets. That I let the label trample all over my friend’s dreams and then chickened out of keeping in touch with two guys who were more like brothers to me.
“Are they the type to bear grudges? Do you think one of them is behind this?”
I think about it carefully before answering. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know who they are anymore. We’re not kids any longer. They’re twenty, same age as me. Grown-ass men. Maybe they are still bitter over it. Or maybe they’ve moved on.” I shrug, even though he can’t see me.
Silence descends for a few seconds.
“Do you think one of them is behind this?” I ask, my voice choking a little. It would probably serve me right, but the thought that one of my ex-friends would actually try to kill me destroys me inside.
Do I deserve their wrath and their frustration?
Abso-fucking-lutely.
> Do I deserve to die for my success?
I don’t believe so.
I’d like to think if either of the guys still had issues with me they’d reach out and we could discuss it. But I haven’t heard from either of them in five years.
“It’s too early to tell. There are a number of red flags on some of these names you’ve given me, but it requires more thorough investigation.”
“What will you do?”
“Dig a little deeper, and I might assign a few men to watch them for a week or two, to see if they are up to anything suspect.”
“Okay. Keep me updated.”
“Of course. Stay safe,” he says before ending the call.
I toss my cell on the couch, rubbing my hands down my face. Bringing up the past always depresses me. I’ve made so many mistakes on the road to fame and fortune, and there are so many things I wish I could do over.
I mope around my apartment for a few hours, on edge and aggravated. I could use a hit so badly right now. At ten p.m. I text Devin to say I need to go out for a run. He tells me to give him a few minutes to contact his guy.
I set out on foot at a quarter past ten, my bodyguard discreetly jogging behind me, slowly building my pace until I’ve worked up a sweat. My mind churns with shit I don’t want to think about, and I push my body faster, harder, relishing the burn in my legs as I circle laps around the park.
Centered around the historic Old Capitol building, this beautiful park is a popular hangout with students who come to the Pentacrest to study or relax with friends. It’s not as populated at night, so it’s the perfect spot for a solitary jog.
My running top is stuck to my back, hair plastered to my forehead, as I run for miles, attempting to work off all my restlessness.
Noticing the time, I head back the way I came. Once I’m out on the main street, I stop at a store and grab a bottle of water. I walk the rest of the return journey, keeping a close eye on my watch the entire time. I want to ensure I’m home in time for my midnight dancer.
I’m crossing the street a couple blocks from my place when I spot Dakota hurrying down the lane that leads to the river.
What the hell is she doing out here by herself so late at night? And she shouldn’t be going down by the river all alone. It’s fairly isolated there this time of night.
I’m following her before I’ve even processed the motion. I know she’s still pissed at me, so I hang back instead of making my presence known, feeling more and more like a creepy stalker with every step. I’m sure the bodyguard following me is thinking the exact same thing.
When she reaches the abandoned building and ducks inside, my heart goes haywire in my chest.
No. Fucking. Way.
I stop and glance at my watch, my heart thud-thudding against my ribcage as I join the dots.
Dakota is my midnight dancer?
“Sir,” a deep, low voice says from behind me. “Do you mind me asking what you’re doing?”
“Yes, I mind,” I snap. “Stay here. Don’t follow me up there. I’ll be down in a while.”
Decision made, I tiptoe into the old building, trailing Dakota as quietly as I can so as not to freak her out. When I reach the top floor, I stop, wondering how to do this. Cautiously, and quietly, I take the final steps to the roof. I emerge into the shadows and stay behind the small, square structure, just off to the side of where Dakota is setting up.
I should let her know I’m here, but I’m a greedy bastard.
I want to see her dance one song up close before I make myself known.
At least, that’s what I promise myself.
But once she starts dancing, I’m drawn in, mesmerized by her elegant, graceful moves as she twirls and spins across the empty roof, lost in the music as she dances her heart out.
I can’t take my eyes from her.
She’s the most exquisite creature I’ve ever seen.
She pours her heart and soul into her dance, and potent emotion seeps from her bones, rippling through the air and ensnaring me in her heartbreak.
Now I see why she always seems sad behind her smile. Her heart is broken, and her dance is a plea. A desperate, wild, beautiful cry for help.
Except no one’s been listening.
Even as I watched her from my window, I didn’t decipher the extent of the utterly devastating heartbreak she carries in every fluid step.
How each precise, skillful movement of her body speaks the words her mouth can’t, or won’t, say.
I wonder if that piece of shit is responsible for this. Did he do this to her? Were her words the other night mere bravado?
I can’t stay quiet anymore. Her pain slams into me like a thousand volts of electricity, shocking, crippling, and debilitating. As if it’s my own.
It’s that soul-deep agony that calls out to me as much as the chemistry between us.
We are more alike than I thought.
I step out of the shadows and wait for her to notice me.
She spins around, moving from side to side, with tears cascading down her cheeks.
The urge to envelop her in my arms is almost overpowering. I want to wipe away those tears and replace them with a smile. Then I want to hunt down the fucker who put them there and rip shreds off him.
The strength of my feelings for this girl never ceases to amaze and unnerve me. No girl has ever gotten under my skin in the same way.
All of a sudden, her chin jerks up and her eyes go wide as she notices me. She slams to a halt, stumbling on unsteady feet. And then an agonized, terrorized scream rings out, slicing through the air as Adele’s heartfelt words swirl around us in the darkness of night.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dakota
I back away from the guy watching me from the shadows. At least, I assume it’s a guy, judging by how tall and broad his shadowy form is. My heart is beating so fast I’m worried I’m on the verge of a heart attack. Blood rushes to my ears, and adrenaline floods my system.
I’m only vaguely conscious I’m screaming.
This can’t be happening.
I scrabble to remember the self-defense lessons Dad made me attend last year, but I was so numb with grief that most of it didn’t sink in.
The guy takes another step forward. “Dakota. It’s me. Sh—Levi. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Wait? What? I fight my panic, watching him closely as he takes another tentative step closer. As if on autopilot, I take another step back.
“Please, baby. Don’t be frightened. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I’m … I’m not your baby,” I whisper, breathing heavily as I attempt to bring my heart rate back to normal. Now that I can see his face, caught in the strip of light radiating from my portable lamp, I stop screaming. Levi’s a lot of things, but I don’t think he means me any harm.
Icy chills tiptoe up my spine as a new thought lands in my mind.
Is that how Layla felt? Did she believe there was no threat in the familiar too?
He moves forward, and I hold up my palm, starting to circle left toward the exit. “Don’t come any closer.”
He raises his hands up over his head. “I’m not here to hurt you, Dakota. I swear. I saw you when I was heading back to my apartment, and I didn’t like that you were coming down here all alone. It’s not safe this time of night. I was going to tell you I was here, but then you started dancing and I lost all track of time.”
Tears roll down my face unbidden. “This was my private sanctuary. The only place I can properly breathe, and now you’ve ruined it.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
He almost sounds sincere, but he forgets I’ve seen who he really is. Someone who would kiss a girl like she’s his entire world and then turn around in the next instance and crush her with nasty words and cruel looks.
“You
need to let me leave.”
“I’m not stopping you from leaving or doing whatever you want to do.”
Taking a risk, I dash across the roof and race down the stairs, flying out of the building as he calls after me. But I can’t hear over the screaming in my head and the alarm bells blaring in my ears.
I tear out of the building, running along the embankment, back out through the creepy lane and onto the brighter streets. I don’t stop running until I reach my dorm. By the time I get there, I’m a sweaty, hysterical mess, and it takes Daisy almost twenty minutes to get me to calm down.
I tell her what happened in between choked sobs, and she rubs a hand up and down my back, offering much-needed comfort. A flurry of words leaves my mouth as I finally open up and tell her about Layla, so she understands this isn’t a normal freak-out.
When I’ve finally stopped crying and shaking, she helps me into my pajamas and then into bed. I close my eyes, and even though I’m exhausted and emotionally shattered, I still can’t sleep. My imagination torments me, flashing images of my sister from that night, and I curl into a fetal position, rocking back and forth in the bed, praying for the pain to end.
I drag my weary ass out of bed the next morning, almost sleepwalking to the shower. After I’m dressed, I scan the room for my bag, realizing in horror that I left all my stuff up on the roof.
Well, that’s just freaking perfect.
Levi is waiting outside the entrance to the business school when I arrive. The look on his face is a mix of concern and regret. He holds my bag out for me, and I’m quick to take it. I should thank him, but my throat is dry, and words don’t come easily, so I just nod before moving away.
“Dakota, wait a second.” He reaches for me before quickly withdrawing his hand. “I’m really sorry about last night. I know how it must have looked, but I didn’t mean to scare you or upset you.” He thrusts a paper cup at me. “Peace offering?”
I consider declining, but the enticing coffee aroma is too tempting. “Thanks.” I cringe at how hoarse I sound. That’s what happens when you spend half your night screaming and the other half crying.
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