I don’t dance. I just stand there and stare, unable to process what I’m seeing. This is Koa. The same man who tied me to a tree. Who threatened my brother. Who runs drugs across counties.
And he’s singing. For me.
I stand there dumfounded. Astonished. Shocked. Dazed. Thrown.
Worst of all?
Turned on.
By song three, he looks up mid-beat and smiles at me.
I’m completely undone.
I’m hooked.
On the fourth song, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Once. Twice. Three times.
I ignore it.
But it keeps buzzing.
I grab it, annoyed. Thea’s calling. Over and over.
Shit.
“Thea?” I answer, pressing my finger to my other ear to block out the music.
“Where are you! I’ve been calling you nonstop for ten minutes. It sounds loud.”
“Is something wrong?”
“It’s Axel.”
My stomach drops. “What about him?”
“He texted me. Said he took six pills.”
“What!” I shout into the phone.
I look up at Koa, still drumming, completely absorbed in the music.
“Where is he?”
“We’re at a party...”
“A party? You’re there without me?”
“I can explain,” Thea says quickly. “I’ll send you the address. Get over here right now. I have him in a bedroom.”
I end the call and immediately open Uber. There’s one right outside.
I leave the bar without looking back. Without telling Koa. Without saying goodbye.
My heart’s still mush from that song dedication, but now it’s twisted with panic.
When I reach the party, I’m shaking.
Thea meets me out front, her eyes glassy. Too glassy.
