Page 22 of After Midnight

Even if it means shaking my ass for money.

I drive us to Whole Foods, where we grab lunch and a few bags of groceries. Then I drop Riley off at home, and after running inside to say hello to Mom, Dad, and Gran, I hurry back to my condo, wanting to get my frozen stuff put away before it all melts in the back of my Jeep.

But when I’m back home and putting everything away in the kitchen, something catches my eye.

My box of Honey Bunches of Oats.

And now my mind is going back over my conversation with Sebastian, the way he told me I didn’t have to dance and that he just wanted to talk. A lot of guys come to the club because they want connection, someone to look into their eyes and listen to them when they speak. I’m not a stranger to listening and talking. But with Sebastian, it felt different. It felt like he was the one listening, paying attention to everything I said. And he made me feel seen.

After pouring myself a bowl of cereal and sitting down at my kitchen table, I pull my phone out of my pocket and open our text conversation again.

Didn’t sleep much. Kept thinking about you.

I take a bite and stare at the message some more. Typically, I’m good at this. But Sebastian isn’t some guy I met at the gym or the store; he’s a client, and in all the years I’ve been dancing, I’ve never given my number to a client. So I have no idea how to play this, how to act.

All I know is that it took everything in me today not to keep glancing at my phone while I was with Riley. She would’ve picked up on it right away, and I hate lying to her, so she probably would’ve been able to coax the truth out of me.

What is the truth? I ask myself.

That I broke my own rules for someone I don’t even know? That I might actually like this guy?

I scoff and take another bite of cereal, crunching down on a big cluster of honeyed goodness.

I don’t even know him. How could I already like him?

With a flare of irritation at myself for overthinking this so much, I quickly type out a text, not giving myself the opportunity to reread it. Then I send it, finish my cereal, and go to put my clean laundry away.

And I try to convince myself that it’s impossible to like someone I don’t even know.

Rock stars included.

chapter 9

Sebastian

THE STUDIO IS HOT—CAN’T run the AC while we’re recording—and I’m sweating as I strike the snare, then roll out a beat on the mid tom. Off to my right, Dex and Lucas are shredding on their guitars, and Michael has his eyes closed as he plays our bass line.

We’ve been in the studio for a few hours already, and despite the energy it always stirs up in me, I feel like I can barely keep my eyes open. Late Vegas nights and pretty girls with black hair and blue eyes are obviously a danger to me.

One of our producers, Naomi, cuts us off.

“Lucas, you missed an entire measure,” she says, sounding more than mildly pissed off. “Again.”

“The fuck I did,” Lucas snaps.

“You did,” Dex says, mopping sweat from his forehead before reaching for a bottled electrolyte water. “You’re fucking up today. What’s up with you?”

Lucas grumbles something to himself, and Michael reprimands him for being a moody dick, but I barely hear their words. I’m focused on fishing my cell out of my pocket, even though I’ve already done it about fifty times since I got here, and she still hasn’t texted me ba—

Holy shit.

She texted me back.

Heart leaping in my chest, I tap the screen, and her new message flashes up at me.

You use that line on all the girls? Gonna have to try a bit harder than that, rock star.

My lips pull up on one side. So far, so good. Guess I didn’t fuck it up quite as bad as I thought I did.