God-fucking-dammit. I think I really do love her. Not just like or want. Love.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Just fuck.
“Your turn. Give me something, so I feel less pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic, and if you hate dancing, you should stop.”
“And do what?” she chuckles. “Be a waitress forever? Though I will admit working at Inferno pays very well.”
“The 7th Circle.” I lift a brow, daring her to argue, knowing she will anyway. If not today, then someday.
“Mhmm.” I get the feeling her argument won’t come with words. Pressing my lips together, I internally prepare myself to get into another fight…and possibly a bullet to the head from Dom. “It’s good money, but it’s not exactly my dream job.”
“Then what is?”
“I don’t know. The only thing I’ve done since I was three is dance. Fuck, I barely graduated because I spent so much time practicing, I failed half of my classes. Colleges aren’t looking for the C-minus student they’ll have to teach everything to.”
“College is overrated.” I shrug.
“Says the guy who works at a music label.”
“You don’t have any idea what else you’d like to do?”
“Nope. See why I’m stuck? Don’t get me wrong. I love dancing. I hate performing, hate the endless rehearsals and classes. Always the same moves, steps…No matter how much the choreography changes, it’s the same core to every show. It feels like there’s no true originality to it. I never get a minute to do anything I want. Can’t take liberties or be creative. But I’m not even sure what else I might be good at or interested in.”
My mind works, wondering if she’d be interested in anything we have at Sin Records. If she’s even interested in an office setting or the music world at all.
Yet, I can’t see her enjoying the monotony. She was born to dance. That much was evident last night. Even if it pissed me off.
“Your turn, Romeo. Stop deflecting.”
“Not deflecting,” I chuckle, then sigh, telling her about my time with my mom, learning to play. How it was all that I wanted, even after she died. Then, about the wake-up call from my dad. “Those who can’t do, teach. Or in my case, search the country and world for others who can.”
“I have no clue how to read music, but the lyrics I read were amazing.”
“Maybe, but they’ll never sell. Trust me..” I wink. “It’s my job to know these things.”
She hums again, looking less than convinced. Before she can argue, I drag her under me, nudging her thighs apart with my knees. “Enough talking.”
“More deflecting?” She calls me out with a challenging arch of her brow.
My lips almost brush hers, our breath mingling. “For now.” Our mouths press together, soft and seductive and…
The fucking doorbell rings.
“I was beginning to wonder if this was some secret castle no one knew about.”
“I’m punching whoever the fuck that is?” I grumble.
“We have to get ready anyway, remember? Theater, then your brother’s.”
“Fuck my life. Can we skip that?”
“You may be able, but I’ve flaked on Casey way too often since promising her we could be friends.”
The doorbell rings again, and I fling the covers off, stomping through the bedroom to the door.
“Aren’t you going to put on pants? Or shorts?”
