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“No.”
“Please?” I smirk, seconds from begging.
A heavy huff escapes her throat as she closes the distance between us. Her sweet, warm scent floods my senses just as vibrantly as it did on our night together.
“Let me make one thing clear, Par—”
“I’m listening,” I interrupt, forcing her nostrils to flare with a deep breath, just as I’d intended.
“Just because you and I are stuck being close to each other this year doesn’t give you permission to be in my space.”
“Isn’t this a community space?”
A growl that sounds more like a mewl flows low and hearty from her chest.
“Stay away from me, okay? My days are long enough; I don’t need them made longer by the mere presence of…”
Her eyes trace me up and down, calculating every inch of my sporty appearance. The judgment is meant to make me feel threatened, but I see the way her gaze clings to my exposed arms. The slight glimmer in her stare as she speeds past the noticeable bulge in my gym shorts.
She’s betraying herself beautifully.
A smirk still sits at the corner of my lips when she finally makes it back to my towering frame.
Her teeth clench as her lips curl around them.
“You,” she bites out.
Soaring in a sea of her, I don’t even hear what she’s saying until she snaps me out of it.
“Do you hear me, Parker?” she reinforces, stomping her foot like a small child not getting their way.
It’s fucking adorable.
Dipping my head so my gaze is level with hers, I warm all over as she quivers.
“Loud and clear.”
CHAPTER 8
FIA
“Haven, Haven, Haven!”
The crowd roars from underneath the stage.
I’ve been dancing since I could walk. In the beginning, I had nerves; we all did, but the more confident a dancer I became, the stage became a tranquil escape.
My home away from home.
Tonight is our final show in Dallas. Every night we’ve performed, the churn of nerves I thought I got rid of in my adolescence flutter in my belly as soon as the opening act begins their final song.
I can’t put my finger on why, but something about dancing on this tour feels like I’m constantly waiting for something terrible to happen. It could be the crew, or the constant change of location that sparks my lack of stability, but I hadn’t anticipated it feeling that much different from any other performance.
My mouth salivates as I move over to where Haven is waving for us to gather into our pre-show huddle.
A cold sweat dots the base of my neck, chills peppering down my skin. The all-too-familiar universal feeling lodges itself at the back of my throat, making it slimy and full of saliva.
Damn it, I cannot throw up right now.
