We have rules. We have boundaries.
No one will get hurt.
“Can you throw the ball already?” Eric asks.
“Don’t rush me!” I say.
I wind up and toss the ball, biting my lip. As it sails neatly down the middle of the lane, I shrug. The ball strikes the pins; all the pins go down, just as I intended.
“Yes!” I cheer. I turn around, doing a little victory dance. Striding back from the lane, I grin at Eric. “That was a strike, in case you missed it.”
Eric rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I just have to get loose and then we’ll see who’s good at this game.”
Just in time for her turn, Ella comes walking down from the restaurant, her arms loaded with all kinds of food. “A little help?”
I trot over to the closest table, helping relieve her burden. She wasn’t wrong about getting one of everything. She sets down chicken fingers, curly fries, two orders of cheese sticks, and several long, sweet smelling churros. She also plunks down a pitcher of soda and cups.
“One more thing…” she says. Then she reaches in her little purse and tosses a pack of Sour Patch Kids on the table.
I look at all the food, my eyes widening. “This is a lot. Do you know how many calories are on this table right now?”
Ella narrows her eyes at me. “I got you diet soda, okay? So let’s all just enjoy the bounty.”
I smile at her. “Thanks.”
“Holy shit,” Eric says, coming up to the table. “I volunteer to be your personal Hoover, vacuuming up anything that’s leftover.”
She grins. “Help yourself. I’m going to go bowl this frame right quick.”
Eric rubs his hands together, snagging a seat. I sit down opposite him, pouring out the diet soda first. He chooses to bite in a churro first, moaning.
“Oh man,” he whispers, almost reverent. “It’s been a while since I had something that was deep fried.”
I smirk, opening my pack of candy. “Yeah?”
Ella returns after a minute, grabbing a cheese stick and enthusiastically dipping it in a little plastic ramekin of marinara. “God, I might have fantasized about this a little bit on the way over here.” She takes a bite and then groans. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I’m not even lying.”
Shaking my head, I grab a curly fry and bite into it. It’s a little overcooked but still hot.
“Okay, these fries are amazing and someone will have to take them away from me at some point.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I chew my fry and try to sneak it out of my pocket, checking the screen under the table. Of course it’s nothing, just a stupid email notification. Ella leans over to see and then rolls her eyes.
“Seriously?”
My cheeks turn bright pink. “What? My phone buzzed!”
She shakes her head, turning to Eric. “She has checked her phone no less than twenty times in the last hour. That tells me that she’s waiting to hear from some hot ass booty call—“
“Ella!” I cry, embarrassed. “I’m telling you, I’m just… like, a phone addict or whatever.”
Eric looks at me, his expression cautious. “Who are you expecting to hear from? We are your only friends… and we are here.”
I point at them both. “That’s not true. I have other, non-ballet friends.”
Ella laughs. “You do not. It’s okay, I don’t have friends outside of ballet either. I mean, there are my cousins. I hang out with them a lot when I’m at home, but that’s just because my family has the nicest house.”
She rolls her eyes.
Eric nods at my phone. “Who are you waiting to hear from, Kaia?”
I will do just about anything to avoid that question. So I smile, turning to Ella.
“Hey, remember last year when Eric was dancing, doing all the Russian jumps, and his pants pretty much exploded?”
He glares at me, swiping a chicken finger. “I’m sure everyone has moved on from that.”
Ella snorts. “Uh, noooo. We didn’t forget. That was the day that I found out that you wear a dainty pink dance belt under your leggings.”
He rocks his head back. “I washed the damn belt with a red shirt. It turned pink in the wash. I thought I already explained that!”
Before the argument can continue, my phone starts buzzing in my hand. Alarmed, I look down at the screen.
Calum.
My heart starts to beat wildly. My stomach fills with acid.
“Umm, I should go take this,” I mumble, sliding to my feet.
“I told you there was a boy,” Ella said. “Didn’t I tell you?”
Hurrying away from the table, I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
There is no greeting, no warm tone. Just his gruff rumble. “I need you dressed in cocktail attire and ready to meet me at Peychaud’s in an hour.”
“Uhhh…” I glance back at my friends. “I’m really in the middle of something. Besides, I’m not dressed right…”
“I’m texting you the address now,” he says. “Don’t make me wait.”
Then he hangs up, leaving staring at my home screen. I blink several time, then turn toward my friends, trying to decide just what I’m about to tell them to escape.
18
Calum
I’m at the stylish, hammered copper bar at Peychaud’s, toying with my drink. The lights are dimmed, the place is hopping. It’s busy tonight, the bar packed, the tables full of noisy people dressed in their date night best.
The bartender, a pretty brunette, comes over to check on me. “Would you like another Vieux Carre?”
I look down at the drink, surprised to find it all but empty. The dark cherry is still there along with a couple of half-melted cubes of ice. I check my watch with a sigh.
“Yeah. Might as well.”
She takes my old glass and heads down the bar. Right beside me, a group of young businesspeople throw their heads back, laughing hysterically. A redhead in a stunning red dress accidentally steps too far back. She whirls, her expression a bit tipsy but no less apologetic.
“Omigoooooddd,” she squeaks. “I’m so sorry.”
I frown at her. Normally I would use this moment to pick her up and fuck her in a storage closet. But Kaia is on her way here.
At least, in theory.
I’ve gone to great lengths to have Kaia at my beck and call; I know for a fact that she’ll give me exactly what I’m looking for, because I pay her to.
Which is why the redhead is off-limits, for now.
“No problem,” I say at last, starting to turn away.
She leans closer, peering at me with an incredulous look on her face. “Your eyes are stunning!” She says. “You’re not here all by yourself, are you?”
I glance at my watch again. Kaia is twenty minutes late. Which begs the question…
Am I here alone or not?
Before I can answer her, I notice Kaia outside the window, dressed in a tiny white dress. She’s running toward the bar, looking flustered.
“My date just got here,” I say. “You’ll excuse me…”
I turn and signal to the bartender to keep my seat and the chair beside it open. Then I walk over to the front door, where Kaia is being hassled by the door guy for ID.