North Shore

by Santino Hassell

  A sudden blast of reggaeton filled the apartment through the floorboards, and I froze with my finger pressed to the dancing boy’s torso.

  Could it have been…

  No. There was no way. It had to be someone else.

  Maybe Caleb? But no, I’d never discussed the dancing boy with him. And he’d have knocked on my door to return it before checking in about why I’d yet to go buy a new phone.

  Landon would have known what the figurine meant, but I’d broken it after he’d left. And besides that, he would have never spent so much time on something so tedious. Something that was only important to me. He hadn’t even bothered to water my plants while I was gone.

  The only other person who’d been in the apartment, who I’d discussed the figurine with, had been Luis. Luis, with his warm brown eyes, wise guy smirk, muscles, and tattoos. Luis, who had paid for my coffee before having it thrown all over his crisp white T-shirt.

  Fuck.

  The brief moment of happiness faded, and my spirits sunk to my faded motorcycle boots. I’d been dressed to pound the pavement and start applying for new jobs, maybe even at bars in the area, but weariness filled me. Why did being depressed have to make me so fucking tired? Even simple tasks seemed impossible these days. Brushing my teeth, showering, tending to my increasingly wild curls, and eating. I’d cook, enjoy the smell, and lose my appetite almost as soon as it was on my plate. The act of chewing and swallowing seemed monumental. Washing dishes? An impossibility. Going to the grocery store was a nightmare.

  This morning had been my first spark of motivation in two weeks. I’d planned to go to the mall, get a new phone, and apply to some jobs along the way. But now? After realizing I’d thrown a fit that had resulted in me throwing coffee all over the guy who’d saved my dancing boy? I wanted to go right back to bed.

  Groaning, I slid to the floor and slumped down in a child’s pose, arms stretched forward and head pressed to the floor. It helped with the tension and tightness in my back, but did nothing to spark enough energy to deal with the outside world. It didn’t help that it was gray and drizzling. It didn’t help that a voice in the back of my head was whispering that I’d probably piss off someone else while at the mall. Or get in another argument with a salesman because I refused to go back to iPhones. It happened every single time I went phone shopping.

  I took a deep breath, and another, and let Luis’ blasting music wash over me. The floors and walls in the house were paper thin, so I could hear the beat clearly. It was music to move to. Honestly, it was music to fuck to. Not slow or sensual, but aggressive and challenging. A tempo that was so off the chain it dared you to try to keep pace with your steps. With my eyes shut, and my brain disengaged from everything else, I found myself choreographing an entire sequence of steps. When the sound of feet slamming against a floor began to match the music, I had a moment of profound concern that I was hallucinating. Then I realized the sounds were coming from below me.

  Luis was dancing.

  It took all of five seconds for me to press my ear to the floor like a complete freak. For several seconds, I could hear nothing but the music but then, half a beat later, the unmistakable sound of sneakers hitting the wooden floors. I could easily picture him dancing to this, shirtless and sweaty with his tattoos glistening.

  The music stopped abruptly, the house lapsing into silence, and I realized what a fool I was being—laying on the floor and eavesdropping. But then the song restarted, and the faint sound of him dancing caught my ear again.

  He wasn’t just dancing. He was practicing. My breath caught, and a half smile crept over my face. My own practice sessions on the cruise had been incredibly dull. Dull music for older guests who wanted pre-Johnny shows instead of faster beats with dirtier dancing. I’d wanted to drown myself on a regular basis, even more so because the other dancers hadn’t minded. There was something to be said about commiserating for comradery, and being the only creative on the boat to notice that the passion was non-existent had been awful.

  I sat up, hands pressed to the floor, and looked up at my dancing boy again.

  What would Luis be practicing for? A sexy video? Posting something on Instagram or Snapchat? Just perfecting his dance moves for a night out or a party? I had no idea, but I suddenly wanted to know. I was addicted to performance, and endlessly intrigued by other performers. Even ones who made me want to crawl out of my skin from discomfort, embarrassment, and shame.

  I got up and found a piece of paper and a pen in the kitchen’s junk drawer. After a moment of staring, and listening to the music, I jotted down a note.

  Thanks for fixing my dancing boy. I don’t know what you think this is going to do, but okay.

  It was as nice as I could manage, which really said something about my state of mind. Even so, I didn’t change the note, and stalled. I checked the weather—thunderstorms looming, the time the bus was said to arrive down the block—five minutes, and randomly decided to take out the trash all before heading downstairs.

  The music was still blaring, but the song had changed. It got louder the closer I got to the entryway, and was honestly the perfect distraction for me to shove the paper beneath his door. But I still punked out. Shoved the note in my pocket and rushed outside with the bag of garbage in my hand.

  Saying thank you in an incredibly shitty way was nothing to be hesitant over. Yet I was hesitant. Not just to acknowledge the time he’d spent on his newest version of “I’m sorry”, but to let my guard down even a little. He’d already seen me at my absolutely lowest point and had witnessed epic explosions of rage. I made it a point to never show that side of myself to anyone other than Landon, who had inspired it. Ashton, Mere, Steph and Jace had never seen me lose my shit. Not even Caleb. But Luis? He’d seen it all. And then some.

  Cursing myself, I jogged down the stairs, cursing more when thunder boomed in the distance. It was an omen for leaving the house. Had to be.

  I jerked up my hood just as it started to drizzle, and went to the side of the house to toss the garbage into the can. It put me level with one of the picture windows in Luis’ living room, and because I had no self-control, I looked up.

  He wasn’t just twerking along to music with his phone docked somewhere and recording. He was really fucking dancing. The drizzle turned into a full-on downpour but I stood there as rain pelted me, and watched as Luis stood facing away from me in the middle of a room that had been cleared of furniture. He was using it as a dance studio—the same way I did with my dining room.

  Inside, Luis was shirtless and wearing a pair of tight grey sweatpants, slicked with sweat just as I’d imagined, and performing an obviously choreographed dance. The professional part of me, the creative part, wanted to memorize the moves so I could try it myself. I analyzed the timing as he twisted from one side to the other, spun before arching forward with his entire body, and jumped into a spin before landing with a mesmerizing gyration of his hips. But the slut part of me that wanted to lick the sweat from his back could only focus on the motion of his hips and ass. Someone that good at thrusting and writhing against the air had to be an amazing fuck.

  I stood in the rain as the song drew to the end, but just before it did, Luis flipped backwards into a handstand. With his crotch level with the window, and my face, he pumped the air with his hips. There was nothing hiding his dick print. Regret ripped through me because, honestly? I could have had that dick in me if I’d taken him up on his offer. And I hadn’t been fucked in over six months.

  Thunder cracked again, and I glanced up at the sky. Ominous clouds were ominous. It was time to stop thirsting and go. I backed away and snuck a look at the window again just in time for the song to end and Luis to flip to his feet. He was dripping sweat and breathing hard, and his eyes immediately met my own.

  Fuck.

  Luis’ eyebrows shot up, and the fucker started laughing.

  God, I hated him. Repaired dancing boy figurine be damned, I could not stand this cocky bastard.

  I
flipped him off and spun on my heel, stomping away from the house in the rain.

  ***

  “Finally, motherfucker,” Stephanie said, after picking up on the second ring. “I thought you were dead.”

  I snorted and trudged up the hill from the bus stop, holding a black bag from the Verizon store and a shopping bag from Express. Express was usually the kind of evil I stayed away from, but a pair of tight black joggers with leather knee patches and zippers called to me in a way that I had to answer.

  “I’m not on social media for two weeks, and you thought I died?”

  “No, asshole. You vanished right after coming back to the city. I figured you were either dead or trying to fit six months’ worth of sex into two weeks.”

  “Ha. Well, awkwardly enough, that won’t be happening since I’m now single.” When she didn’t say anything, I scoffed. “So, I take it everyone knows.”

  “Yeah, he kind of had a Snapchat meltdown.”

  My stomach twisted and bile rose in my throat. I knew, deep down, that nothing he said would affect my friends’ opinion of me, but… what if it did? It was enough to feel exposed and caught out there in my own corner of the city even without every single one of my associates bearing witness to it as well.

  “And?” I asked, voice dropping lower as the rain once again began to pound against me. I clutched my umbrella and walked faster. “What did he say?”

  “It was incoherent, to be honest. But it alluded to the fact that you destroyed all his belongings because you caught him with another guy, and yet he knows you were fucking everyone on the cruise ship.”

  Okay, not what I’d expected. “That’s stupid. I’m a flirt, but I would never cheat on him.”

  “Yeah, everyone told him he was a fucking idiot. You were faithful to him even when he was trying to fuck anything with a pulse. We dragged him, and he deleted it like an hour later.”

  I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. The idea of my friends, and maybe even my mutual friends with Landon, having my back should have calmed me, but it didn’t. I knew Landon. Being shut down and publicly humiliated would have enraged him, and even though I had not been involved with the shit show, he was surely blaming me.

  It was only a matter of time before he went on a full campaign to smear me and show his own innocence. To make me look like a master manipulator who convinced my friends he was the bad guy, meanwhile he was misunderstood and mistreated. That was his game. To keep me isolated and wary that my own friends would turn against me. To have me believe I couldn’t trust anyone.

  Another jolt of thunder boomed in the sky, and I jumped. I’d hung around the mall so long, telling myself wandering was the equivalent of peopling even if I spoke to no one, that it was now dark as hell. Normally that wouldn’t affect me. Now, I kept wondering if Landon would pop up, grab my arm, and demand to know where I’d been.

  “Hey babe, let me call you back, okay? It’s pouring.”

  “Okay, papi. Please call me. I want to talk to you.”

  “I will. Promise.”

  “Okay,” she said, sounding skeptical. “Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I shoved my new phone into my pocket and jogged the rest of the way to the house, eyes darting around the streets and corners. Landon had never leapt out at me in the dark before, but he had loitered around bus stops waiting for me to return home. His plan had always been to catch me before I was prepared for one of his interrogations, but I’d never had anything to hide. Because, as Stephanie had said, I’d been unwaveringly faithful.

  Luis’ apartment was still and dark when I approached the house, which twisted my guts a little more. Sometimes I wondered what would happen if Landon showed up to confront me instead of manipulating me from afar, and I wasn’t prepared for that. We’d had fights before, but only over petty stuff that had spiraled. Never over something like this.

  The skittish feeling didn’t fade even after I was in the house and dropping my bags. I went through each room of the apartment, opening closets and the bathroom, making sure no one was lurking, and only then did I calm. Which is when thunder exploded loudly, indicating a lightning strike nearby, and the power went out.

  “Fuck,” I hissed. “Really?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, counted to ten, and waited for my heart to slow before heading outside again. The good thing about the house was that the landlord had converted the basement to a laundry room, so tenants had access to it and the circuit breaker. I was hoping it was just the circuit breaker that had been tripped, anyway. Sitting in the dark for hours on end in my current state sounded fucking horrendous.

  The rain drenched me as I jogged down the front steps and around the side of the house to the basement door. I found it unlocked, and stumbled my way down the narrow stairs in the pitch black. My boots slipped once I reached the bottom step. I flailed wildly, spinning as I grasped for something to hold onto. The wall was the only thing I managed to press my hand against, but a presence behind me sent me scrambling again. A hand brushed my shoulder and a chest pressed against my wet jacket, bumping me against the wall.

  I slammed my elbow back, hitting a solid chest, and stomped my booted foot on the man’s instep. A grunt exploded in my ear.

  “Hijo de la gran puta—”

  The words didn’t process in my ear because all I felt was panic and a need to escape. I shoved my back against his chest, trying to get away. When that failed to work, I wildly tried to aim my elbow for his solar plexus. That snapped my attacker out of his lull, because he grabbed my hands with a powerful grip and slammed them both up against the wall.

  “Let me fucking—”

  “Oye lindo, it’s just me.”

  Things clicked into place. Spanish. Broad muscular chest. The smell of cologne. Unlocked door.

  Luis.

  Not Landon.

  Luis, who lived here and who would have gone down to flip the breakers.

  Not Landon.

  My breath gusted out of me in heavy pants, but I didn’t move. Everything felt surreal, and my heart was beating so fast it felt close to bursting through my chest. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, and let him pin me against the wall.

  “You good?”

  I scoffed at the absurdity of the question. No, I wanted to say. I’m not fucking good. I’m a mess. I’m terrified of my own shadow. I’m ashamed of having stayed with Landon for so long. I hate myself for various good reasons. I want to hate you for various irrational ones.

  “Hey…” Luis released my hands but wrapped a strong arm around my chest. He felt so warm against me, so solid, that I didn’t pull away. “Tell me you’re okay if you’re okay. You got me worried.”

  “I don’t need you to worry about me.”

  “But I am, anyway. I wasn’t trying to scare you.” His fingers ghosted over my face and dragged along my forehead. He probably meant the gentle touch to calm me, but it had the opposite effect, and my stomach flipped. “I was trying to help you not crack your fucking head open on the radiator like I almost did when I came down.”

  “I don’t need you trying to save my life either.”

  His fingers slid through my wet hair, smoothing it away from my face. My breathing hitched, and the sound was regretfully loud in the quiet basement. His hand dropped to my chest, brushing along one hard nipple, and I felt his dick twitch against my ass. I inhaled again, and the following exhale bordered on a groan. Without thinking, I pressed back on his crotch. His hips canted against me. It was an abrupt movement, like he hadn’t planned it, but I went from embarrassed and scared to absurdly turned on.

  Fuck, why was I like this?

  We were both breathing heavily now, and it got worse when he planted his hands against the wall on either side of me. My wet hair was all in his face, so he smoothed it away again. This time, his calloused fingers grazed my parted lips. His dick got harder against me. I fucking loved that I could feel every inch of him responding to my body. It had been so long since someon
e had wanted me.

  Luis pressed his mouth to my ear. “Is there anything you need from me?”

  “No,” I croaked. “Just the lights on.”

  There was a pause where I wondered if he would push. Maybe reach around and grab the bulge straining against my jeans. Or yank my face to the side and take my mouth in a forceful demanding kiss. Rip my jeans down, even if I protested a little, and show me what else those muscles were good for besides fighting. And dancing.

  But he didn’t.

  He stepped away without a word and left me panting against the wall. I squeezed my eyes shut, tried to catch my breath, and tried not to think about the erection raging in my jeans. I turned so my back was to the wall and listened to him move around in the dark. There were some thumps, a mumbled swear, and then I heard the clank of the metallic circuit box.

  I heard a couple of snapping sounds before the small bulb above the washing machine and dryer lit up. I’d been waiting for lights but now with one dangling above me, I felt exposed. I was drenched, hair a mess, pale, and honestly not looking my best in general after two weeks of hiding in my apartment with little grooming. But Luis? Everything from his haircut, to his carefully trimmed facial hair, to his body was perfection.

  Cringing, I turned away and hurried for the door. He was right behind me, walking a little too close but not speaking. When he paused to lock the basement, I tried to force myself to sprint around the house and into my apartment, but I paused in the much lighter rainfall. Drops fell on his shoulder, and the light on the side of the house illuminated their slow slide down the muscular stretch of his back.

  He turned to me and looked surprised that I was still there. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “I know.” I cleared my throat, and flicked my gaze around to avoid meeting his dark eyes. “Look, Luis, I just wanted to say...”

  “You’re sorry for beating me up?”

  I snorted. “Yeah, right. I thought you said you could take it because you’re a fighter.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, nodding slowly as his gaze slowly scanned me. “I said some other shit too.”