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I’m not much of a dancer.
Well… I don’t dance.Ever.
That much is obvious when I pull Gray along onto the dance floor and kind of just begin moving awkwardly. He laughs and grabs my hands, guiding me along with him. I relax, allowing myself to enjoy this one moment of fun and forget about all of my stress for the night.
Suddenly, Gray turns me around so my back is pressed against his chest. He pulls me close, placing his hands on my hips. His chest and stomach are warm and firm against my back. I lean my head back against his shoulder as we sway to the music, closing my eyes and letting him take control. The bass of the music reverberates through my bones. Gray leans his head down so his breath skates across the exposed flesh of my neck, making me shiver.
“I’m glad I met you tonight,” he says in my ear. I crack an eye open. We’re the only ones on the floor moving at a slower pace, but I don’t care at all. Gray doesn’t seem to mind, either. It feels so good to be wrapped in someone’s arms like this. The action isn’t inherently sexual, but I’ve been so touch-starved for so long that I begin to feel warmth between my legs.
“Now, slow it down for me baby, ‘cause I love the way it feels when we grind.”
Evidence of Gray’s feelings mirroring my own come in the form of his erection pushing against my ass. My heart jumps, and my eyes snap open wide. He lowers his head a little more and runs his lips along my neck.
“You’re so beautiful.” His voice is low in my ear but loud enough to be heard over the music and noise of the crowd.
This is too much, too fast. I stand up straight and pull away from him.
“I’m going to get a drink.” I don’t wait for him before I turn around and make a beeline for the bar. I have no interest in drinking anything but water or soda tonight.
I order a glass of water, then slump against the edge of the bar. Sweat beads on my forehead and drips down my back. We haven’t been here very long, but I’m dying. The room is stifling, but I can’t tell if I’m sweating from the heat of the club or because of Gray. As nice as it felt being that close to someone, I’m still not sure when I’ll be ready for any kind of intimacy.
Or maybe it’s just because I’m really not attracted to him that way, even though my body responded to him.
The bartender comes back with my drink. I thank her and take a few unladylike gulps before wiping my chin. The song finally ends, and another one begins.
“All my friends are heathens, take it slow…”
I stiffen.
“Wait for them to ask you who you know…”
It’s just a song. It’s just a song.
“Please, don’t make any sudden moves…”
That song was blasted all over the radio when it first came out, and yet I can’t stop the shiver of fear from spider-walking down my spine.
“You don’t know the half of the abuse.”
Heathensby Twenty One Pilots was Ezra’s favorite song for the longest time. He would listen to it all the time: while he worked, when he was driving, before he killed someone…
I take another sip of water and scan the room for a tall, bald black man. Everyone keeps dancing and laughing and having fun. They seem a little confused by the change of pace, but other than that, nothing is out of the ordinary.
Until—
The front doors to the club open, and three tall men walk in wearing black bandanas covering their faces from the nose down.
I know them.
The one on the left, the Asian man with his sleek black hair pulled up in a half bun. The one on the right, the man with the dirty blonde hair who saved my life just yesterday. The blonde and brown of his beard peaks out from beneath his face covering.
And in the center—my sweetest dream and worst nightmare.
There’s no mistaking him in the middle of the trio. The man I’ve spent a year trying to get away from, the man I desperately tried to forget about.
The man my heart still longs for.
Ezra James.
