I ran into Tarryn on my way out, who made sure to let me know she was texting Ty.
She was texting him when he told me he cared about me.
I feel worse now than I did from anything Brant did to me, and that’s terrifying.
Because no matter how much I want to believe Ty saw something special when he looked at me—something no one else has ever seen in me—I don’t know what to believe.
I should’ve trusted my gut in the beginning that this is all a stupid game to him. For him to see how far he can push me with his sexy comments.
Thinking he seriously cares about a girl like me is dangerous.
I take another sip of my wine, the last of the bottle Ty left in my bathroom the day of my doctor’s visit. I’ve been drinking it slowly, trying not to think about him with every drop that hits my tongue, but I’m failing.
Kendall comes into the living room in her silky floral robe, an empty glass in her hand. She stops when she sees me. “What’re you still doing up? I thought you went to bed an hour ago.”
I clear my throat and hold my glass up. “Not when there’s wine to be had—you taught me that.”
“Smart-ass.”
“And you aren’t?”
“Touché.” She walks into the kitchen and fills her glass with water from the pitcher in the fridge. “Seriously, what’s up?”
I shrug, unsure of how I would even bring up Ty. How I could tell her about Tarryn and him without making me sound pathetic for having any feelings for him at all.
I mentally take a deep breath.
I’m strong.
Confident.
Worthy.
Even if Ty doesn’t think so.
Kendall stands still and watches me, obviously waiting for a real answer.
I exhale. “It’s nothing. I’m just winding down from a busy few days.” I pat the seat next to me for her to sit. “You still good with your schedule?”
“Yeah, it’s plenty for the time being.”
Since Kendall’s been building her Instagram followers in order to be a paid influencer full-time, she’s been trying to get more involved with the fitness scene. She took over my Pilates classes three times a week, and I could not be more thrilled. Although many of my customers love the class, I hate Pilates. So, when Kendall said she’d love to do it a couple months ago, I more than gladly gave them to her.
Now, I also have Wren, who luckily enjoys Zumba enough to teach it. Yoga is my main passion, so having them take over the rest has been a godsend.
“You still with me?” Kendall says, waving a hand in front of my face. “How much wine have you had tonight?”
“Only one glass.”
She narrows her gaze. “Are you sure? You look dazed.”
“I’m just tired and need sleep.”
“You never drink, especially not alone. Are you sure you’re okay? Remember what I said, you can talk to me.”
“Yes, Mom. I’m fine.” I roll my eyes and make my way to the sink with my empty wineglass, my comment making me think about my own mom. Staring at the wine also reminds me of her and her drinking habits. A small fear of turning into her overtakes me, but I brush it aside as I quickly wash my glass and set it out to dry on the mat next to the sink.
I know I’ll never be her. I went through hell taking care of her and saw way too much. As I wipe my hands off, I mentally nod, knowing I won’t turn into her.
“God,” Kendall says, leaning against the counter. “You are such a neat freak.”
Clasping my hands in front of me, I counter, “Nothing wrong with wanting to get ahead of the cleaning chores. Not a bad habit to take note of, by the way.” I pin her with my stare.
“Again, touché. I need to get some sleep and find better comebacks.”
“And I’ll be waiting in a nice, clean apartment when that day comes.”
In bed, I scroll through my messages. Before my heavy eyelids win, I type a quick text to Ty, deciding not to let Tarryn get inside my head.
I will not let Ty get to me, either.
Me: I care about you too… even if you smell bad during yoga.
CHAPTER 23
Ty
“Ty, we need to talk.” Leo waves me over as the rest of the guys pack their shit up to leave. Practice is over, and most of them are still hungover.
I walk to Leo with my bag slung over my shoulder. “They need to sober up before the show tonight, so we don’t have another Drew fiasco. Am I right?” I high five Leo, thinking about the time Drew was so hungover from a night of binge drinking he landed on his face trying to do a backflip during a show.
Which is not sexy. Women want sexy. They want their fantasies—not their nightmares—to come alive on stage.
I nod once the space is cleared out. “What’s up, bro? You breaking up with me? Who’s the other guy? I’ll kick his ass.”
“Hilarious.” He packs the rest of his things before he walks with me outside and into the blazing Las Vegas heat. “Listen, I’ve been debating on talking about this or not, but I want you to be the first to know.”
I stop him with my hand to his chest, so we’re face-to-face. Cars are stopped at a red light nearby, and a few people walk the sidewalks around us. But my focus is on Leo. “What’re you talking about? Does this have something to do with your weird attitude the last few weeks?”
He shifts his gaze to the ground, like he’s in pre-school and embarrassed to ask for crayons.
“Dude, what is it?” A sinking feeling takes up shop in my lower stomach, thinking the worst. “Is it Sebastian? Your health? Is something wrong with you? What—”
“No! Jesus. I’m not too much older than you, you know.” His eyes widen. “I’ve just been thinking is all…”
When he doesn’t continue—when he chews on his thumbnail like a fucking child—I smack him in the shoulder. Relieved and able to joke now, I say, “Care to elaborate, or was that supposed to be the news? That you’re really a robot and finally started thinking on your own?”
“You’re impossible. Forget it.” He shoves me out of the way, but I don’t budge.
“Dude, seriously, what’s wrong? Out with it.”
“I’m thinking about retiring from Naked Heat,” he blurts, and I stop in my tracks, the sun beating down on me.
“You’re leaving?”
He holds his hands up, then walks toward our cars in the side parking lot. “I’m thinking about it. Which is why I brought it up to you first. You’ve done really well running practices, and I…”
The rest of his words are muffled by the ringing in my ears.
Leo’s been here longer than I have. Although Sebastian joined first and wanted me to come with him, Leo was the one who tipped the scales. He offered me a practice round, knowing even after a short time of meeting me, that I would enjoy it. That I couldn’t say no to the spotlight once I had a taste. He could smell the need for attention on me like bacon on my breath from a mile away.
He knew I wouldn’t say no to brotherhood.
To the sense of belonging.
And now this brother is considering leaving.
I smack the back of his head without a word and walk to my car with him on my tail.
“What the fuck, man?”
I whirl around. “Yeah, exactly. What the fuck? You’re leaving?”
“Ty, chill. Keep your voice down.” Leo scans the parking lot, but the other guys have already left.
“I can’t believe this shit. What about us?” I felt it, my need to say me instead of us.
I immediately feel guilty as the pain flashes across his usually happy features.
“I’m not leaving you. I’m just thinking about leaving this life.” His round shoulders slump in defeat. “I’ve been doing this for over ten years. Dancing, training new dancers, the long practices, and the travel. I’m in my early thirties, and although this has been crazy fun, I feel like there’s something more out there for me.”
“Is this about Sebastian? He’s leaving,
and it’s got you thinking you need to as well?”
“This is about me.”
“So, you’ve decided to use your trust fund, then? Why not start out with it? Why go through all this trouble?” I was grasping at anything and everything, desperately trying to understand why he wants to leave.
His expression turns apologetic and sad. “You know I’ve only dipped into my trust to invest in Sebastian’s hotel. I’m simply considering a change, and you’ve been a great asset—”
“Right.” I turn toward my car without stopping, even when he says my name. “See you later, man.”
What he’s saying makes sense, and I want to be happy for him like I was when Sebastian made a similar decision. I want to congratulate Leo on whatever life goals he’s after. But the irrational part of me that doesn’t do well with change takes over.
Shaking my head, I drive to my apartment, but when I get there, the emptiness is too much. I pace in my living room, rubbing my temples, then turn on some music through my Bluetooth speaker.
I try to muffle out my thoughts, but it’s no use.
First, Sebastian decided to leave. I was mad at him for it, mad he wanted to make this huge change, but I also understood it. He was miserable, but Leo? He never so much as hinted he might be unhappy.
And we’re friends. More than that, we’re brothers.
Without him, who will I have? Fucking Jordan and Raf? They’re barely out of diapers and still think it’s fun to be each other’s wingmen like we’re in college.
Well, Raf is in college, so he doesn’t count.
Damn it.
After losing my sister, my parents were like zombies, floating around our house like they forgot they lived there. They always had a blank stare, an expression which continues to haunt me every day.
They stopped talking to me. I never even saw them speak to each other, if they managed to stay in the same room long enough.
After I left for college, we stopped seeing each other, except for once a year in February when we visit my sister’s grave. We used to meet for holidays, until it became too painful, so I stopped.
And they didn’t ask why.
They didn’t ask me to reconsider.
The guys of Naked Heat took me in and made me feel like part of a family again. Leo watched out for me. When I went on my binge-drinking sprees, he was always there, even if he was disappointed.
Sebastian too.
“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, clasping my hands behind my head.
My hands itch to get lost in a painting or drawing or anything to keep my mind busy. To make me forget that the world around me is changing so much.
While mine remains the same.
My chest aches with all this nervous energy coursing through me, my mind all over the place.
Normally, at times like these, I’d call one of my usual hookups. Ask her to meet for drinks and go back to her place. Get lost between her thighs until I black out, forgetting it all.
Forgetting the failure I was as a brother and son.
Forgetting my childhood altogether, aside from the memories involving my sister. She was the only good thing in my life.
Taking a seat on the edge of my couch, I pull out my phone, my thumb scrolling through my list of booty calls. I’d feel bad if they weren’t in it for the fun and thrill of it too. This list was carefully crafted to only include the ones with aversions to serious relationships.
But I find myself passing over each one of them, wanting only one woman. Wanting to hear only her panting my name.
Wanting only her to make me forget.
Me: Please tell me you’re coming to Sebastian’s last show next weekend.
Me: Say YES.
I squirm in my seat as the bubbles pop up to show she’s typing.
Emma: And what do I get if I say yes?
Me: My God, Jones, you’re killing me.
Emma: Humor me.
Me: Let’s just say, I’ll make sure you don’t regret it ;)
CHAPTER 24
Emma
Even though Vegas is relatively close to LA, I don’t come here too often. Smells bad, desperate people shove flyers of naked women in your face, and it takes too long to get anywhere on the Strip.
But I’m here for Kendall. It’s Sebastian’s last show, and I want to be supportive.
I’m not thinking at all about Ty dancing half-naked on stage.
The whole drive here, I tried preparing myself. I told myself he didn’t mean anything by his texts, promising I wouldn’t regret coming out here. They meant nothing.
Him dancing on stage means nothing.
It was easy not to think about him too much with Kendall and her work friend Margo going on about Mason and our big double date. Margo even went so far as to ask me why I don’t let “that hunk of man fuck me on my surfboard.”
I shushed her like Mason could hear us and get the wrong idea—that I wanted him to.
But as I enter the venue for Naked Heat, I gulp, all thoughts of anyone other than Ty escaping me.
His rough hands on my bare skin.
His warm mouth sucking on my nipple.
The most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me, and we didn’t even have sex.
“Lighten up!” Kendall nudges me and tugs on my ponytail. “Let your hair down. Let loose. We’re in Vegas!”
“Fuck yeah!” Margo waves her hands in the air, her black hair bouncing around her shoulders. “First things first—we need drinks. Maybe a few shots to kick-start this night correctly?” She wiggles her perfectly thick eyebrows.
Her energy is pretty contagious, and I agree to drinks, giggling with them as we head toward the bar.
Margo orders us all shots of the cheapest tequila they have. “Sorry girls, we may be in Vegas, but I didn’t win the lottery. Or at roulette. Yet.” She winks before the three of us clink our glasses together and throw back the burning liquid.
It’s certainly cheap, all right. But I swallow it, anyway, and suck on the lime like it’s an oxygen mask.
Kendall squeals and runs past me. Confused, I turn around and see her hugging another woman who could be her twin. Except for her honey hair and shiny Tory Burch shoes and purse. Kendall’s blond hair with dark streaks underneath are much less natural than her sister Lauren’s. Kendall’s Kate Spade purse is also not hers, but one I let her borrow, along with my Steve Madden pumps. She wanted to look nice for her boyfriend and his last show before he enters a new venture.
I was happy to help. I have a closet full of shiny things that would make Lauren cry of jealousy. But to me, they make me want to cry for different reasons. Mainly because they’re unpleasant reminders of the strained relationship I have with my dad. His way of showing love is by buying it.
“Lauren, hey.” I greet her with a side hug, patting her shoulder lightly. “How’ve you been? How’s the pregnancy?”
She exhales, setting her purse onto the bar, but not before wiping it down with a napkin. “It truly is as magical as they say.” She smiles widely, rubbing her small belly. “And truly as sickening. My morning sickness is unbearable some days.” She widens her eyes and forces a smile.
“Well, don’t they also say you forget the whole thing once you give birth?” I offer.
Kendall chimes in. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to remind you of your swollen feet and fat fingers.”
“You bitch.” Lauren rolls her eyes but winks. “But I expect nothing less from my troll of a sister.”
Kendall curtsies, and I can’t help but smile at their sisterly ways. Hearing Kendall talk about Lauren meeting us in Vegas, had me really missing my own sisters.
We text a few times a week. Amy is only eight, so she doesn’t text much. Her idea of a conversation is sending me YouTube links to the latest music she likes, but they make me smile, nonetheless. She also sends pictures every now and then of our younger sister June. I’m glad she does, even though they’re usually blurry.
Even though my mother wouldn’t
approve, I like having a relationship with them, no matter how minimal.
We order drinks, lemonade for Lauren, and take our seats as more people file in.
The room is full of mostly women—sequins, short skirts, and wide, ogling eyes even though the stage is empty. The tables are narrow and rectangular, all parallel and facing the stage. I’ve never been to one of these shows, and the more I chat with my friends and sip on my drink, the anticipation makes me giddy.
The room suddenly quiets, and the emcee appears on stage to get the show started. “Now, before I bring out the man candy, let’s play a game. Who wants to volunteer?” He wiggles his eyebrows toward the crowd. Some raise their hands or point to their friends who cover their faces.
Margo holds Kendall’s hand up, and I’m relieved she doesn’t pick me. No telling what this little game is.
He picks a girl with a birthday sash and crown, an older woman who reminds me of my nana with her gray hair held down by half a bottle of hairspray, and a woman with dark skin and large breasts I’d be jealous of, if they were real.
People clap as the emcee challenges the volunteers to a twerking match, the woman reminding me of my nana surprisingly limber and energetic while the birthday girl twerks against the emcee. Instead of backing away, he sticks his tongue out to the crowd in enjoyment.
Everyone’s laughing and cheering, and my hands twitch to do the same, even though this behavior, in any other context, would be deplorable.
Kendall glares like I said that out loud, and I smile, clapping along with her. “Happy?” I ask sarcastically.
She nods in victory before she cups her hands around her mouth and hollers at the stage.
The cocktail waitress asks if we want another round, to which Kendall enthusiastically nods.
I nod too, even though I really shouldn’t.
But the buzz from one drink and a couple shots mixed with the exciting energy of the room has me feeling like this is my night to have fun.
We’re in Vegas, after all.
No worrying about the past or Mason or the studio. The latter is in good hands, thanks to Wren, who was eager for the extra hours this weekend. She’s saving up for a new car, which has worked out well for me.
Let Loose for Me Page 11
