The dizzier I become, the further away those different colored eyes fade—a sea green-amber kiss from hell.
An anger blisters throughout, and I take it out on my body as I continue to dance a ballet fit for the devil. My body is and has always been a channel, and even though I have the perfect poker face, when I dance, every emotion explodes out of me.
I dance with my heart; that’s what my teacher and the closest thing I have to a mom, Avery Everland, told me. She first saw me dance in my trailer park home when I was six years old. I had no training and no clue what I was doing, but that didn’t stop me.
Dancing was my escape. It was here I could chase the demons plaguing my soul.
Avery saved me from becoming a statistic. I didn’t have two pennies to rub together, thanks to my father leaving before I was born, and my mom being too caught up in finding herself a Prince Charming instead of saving herself.
I have an older brother, but just like my father, he left me too.
Memories of abandonment flash before me, and I scream in fury, punishing my body because it’s the only way to feel. My heart threatens to rip apart my rib cage, but would that be so bad? Twenty-eight years of hell can all end right here, right now.
As I spin faster and faster, my blistered toes beseech me to finish, but I can’t. It’s only when I dance that I feel free, free from this life that turned out nothing like I thought. The song comes to a close, and I end with a sequence of fast pique turns. Around and around, always running away, and when the last note fades, I face reality, breathless and spent.
My winded pants fill the small room as I take a moment to catch my breath. I always feel most alive when I take my last step, gratified that I’ve overcome the past. But today, the weight returns, and that’s thanks to someone I most definitely need to stay away from.
He reeks of trouble, trouble with a capital T, so why am I drawn to him? Something about him calls to me, a deep, carnal yearning, which has me forgetting my number one rule—your heart can only be broken if you let it.
I haven’t had a boyfriend for years because men only hurt me and then they leave. All but one, and that’s the reason I’m single and working at The Pink Oyster.
Sighing, I stop with the moping and grab my bag. I slip out of my ballet slippers and put on my Chucks, ready for the drive home. The drive from Cleveland to Detroit is long, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Here, no one knows who I am, not even Avery. I wouldn’t jeopardize her that way.
I can’t risk anyone knowing what I do at night because a prestige academy like Everland’s would never survive such a scandal. It doesn’t matter that I’m the best damn teacher this school has or that I work my ass off. None of that matters when you take your clothes off for a living.
You’re seen as a slut, a lower-class citizen, but I dare any of these pretentious moms to live a day in my shoes. I do what’s necessary to survive—I always have—and I make no apologies. I couldn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of me, but working in a different state does make things easier for…my son—the love of my life.
Avery’s brother lived in the same trailer park as I did, and from the first time we met, she took me under her wing and made me into the woman I am today. She taught me everything I know, all because she saw something special in me.
When she dropped by the trailer, she would take me to her studio. Those visits were the only thing that helped me through my childhood. I would sweep the floors and clean the toilets—whatever I could do to help—and in return, she paid me in ballet lessons.
She never asked me to do the chores, but I wanted to because I didn’t want to be a freeloader. She saved me from a lifetime of pain. She allowed me to be someone other than me for a few hours, away from my mom, and away from a life that caused me nothing but pain.
Eventually, Avery moved her studio from Detroit to Cleveland, which is why I am here. No one would ever hire me, considering my past and lack of experience, but as I said, I owed Avery everything. She never married and didn’t have any children, so I’m all she has.
Shouldering my bag, I switch off the lights and lock up the studio. My truck is parked in the parking lot out back, a short walk around the building. But nonetheless, I ensure my mace and cell are in my jacket pocket.
Lately, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched. I’m probably just being paranoid, but too much shit has happened in my life for me to be careless, which is why I have no idea why the new guy at work is getting under my skin.
Even thinking about him has my skin breaking into goose bumps, but they soon scatter when heat washes over me. He had no issues getting up close and personal with Tawny today, but with me, it seems he can’t get away fast enough.
Last night was a perfect example of this.
I let my guard down—the one and only time—and look what happened. He did what every other jerk has done—tossed me aside. Groaning at my stupidity, I remember how his soft lips felt against mine. They were cautious, timid almost, the tremble to them revealing he was nervous, which most certainly did not match the way he looked.
I have never seen someone so…imposing before. He scares but intrigues me all in the same breath. Could it be because I see a prisoner trapped within, desperate to break free, just like me? He looks at me as though I’ll break, but I won’t. I can hold my own.
His hair is short, but I can see it’s dark in color. His eyes are so unusual, but in a good way, a way which sucks you into the abyss of sin. His upturned nose only adds to his arrogance, his lips are wicked and full, and his slightly longer canine teeth play into his animalistic vibe.
He is tall, mysterious, and smells like a juniper dream. He’s covered in so many tattoos, and I have the urge to study each one, hoping they will shed light on just who this man is. His hands and fingers are inked, and so are his arms, which I saw today as that tight white T-shirt clung to his muscled body like a second skin.
The intricate tattoo on his neck consists of two skeleton hands clutching either side of his neck. They appear to be squeezing his throat tight. It has me wondering if it’s somehow connected to the Roman numeral number four on the back of his neck.
So much about him fascinates me, which is why I need to stay away.
Regardless of how good it felt, I shouldn’t have kissed him. It was a mistake, but it was like I fell under his spell, a spell I’m certain he doesn’t even know he cast. He has no idea the effect he has on others. There’s a magnetism about him that has everyone turning their head the moment he enters a room.
I don’t feel threatened by him. God knows I should, but when he jumped to my defense without a second thought, it showed me that underneath his hard exterior, there is something special, something different.
Something I want.
His darkness dances with mine. I can feel it. This darkness inside me has been festering since everyone I loved left me. Everyone has a cross to bear, but mine seems to become heavier and heavier with each step I take.
So when I saw him today touching that vulture, Tawny, I realized I need to stay away from Bull. I can’t afford any distractions.
I have a plan, and that plan is to save enough money to get Jordy and me the fuck out of Detroit. I want him to have a normal childhood and not have to mourn the death of a friend. I want him to be able to walk to school without being jumped for his lunch money.