Tyler’s a dark knight all in black. His dress shirt is rolled at the sleeves, revealing curls of ink that trace one arm like venom taking over his bloodstream.
A wave of desire washes over me before I can stop it. Electricity buzzes through me—my lips, my fingers, my bare shoulders and breasts under the backless silver halter top I bought this afternoon.
Dammit, I want to know what happened when he came to New York.
I want to know what he’s thinking right now.
Stop wondering.
I toss back the drink. The sweetness and alcohol burn down my throat, settling in my stomach with a not unpleasant buzz.
The next second, Elle’s between us, an expression of shock on her face.
“Jake isn’t coming. He got kicked out of school today. He was selling uppers from his dorm room.”
The comfortable warmth of the booze is overtaken by disbelief. “It’s the first week of school.” I look between Elle and Beck.
Beck shrugs. “Sometimes you want something so bad you’ll give up who you are to get it.”
My chest feels hollow.
Yes, Jake fucked up, and I won’t do that, but you can be on top one moment and back on the bottom the next.
“You know what time it is, Manatee?” Beck proclaims, and I try to refocus on him. “It’s dancing time.”
“I’ll be right there. Think I need that second drink after all.”
I watch him and Elle head toward the floor.
When I reach for the second shot, fingers close around my wrist.
I jerk my head up to see Tyler looming over me, holding a plastic cup of what looks like water.
“I don’t want it,” I say.
“What do you want?”
I lift my chin, suddenly angry. “I want people to stop leaving. Everyone leaves.”
I pry the shot from his hand and down it before taking off toward the dance floor.
I’d thought once I got to Vanier the rest would be easy. None of it’s easy.
Once I find my friends, I link hands with Elle and Beck, and the three of us dance.
I focus on the music.
That’s what I’ve always wanted—to lose myself in its power, to be part of it.
Elle splits off to dance with a guy from school, and Beck grins at me.
I move closer. My hand finds his shoulder, and he smiles.
“This is a good birthday, Manatee. But I’m supposed to be helping you, not the other way around.”
My chest expands. “We’re friends, right?”
He nods. “For sure.”
The song changes to something hip-hop, and when his hands find my hips, I go with it, moving closer.
My arms wind around his neck as I smile up at him.
Beck cuts a look past me, looking bemused. “Fascinating.”
“What is?”
“What’s gonna happen in five, four, three, two…”
Someone brushes my back, and Beck angles his head up, hands not moving from my body. “Hey, man.”
Tyler says something to his friend I can’t hear.
“Girl needed some mentoring, if you know what I mean.” Beck winks at me, and I laugh in response.
But Tyler’s back at his ear, and Beck’s smile dims.
Before I can react, Beck lifts my hand, presses his lips to the back in a move that’s somehow cheesy and earnest at once. “Thanks for the dance.”
A little tingle runs through me, and I bite my cheek as I watch him head back through the crowd.
“What did you say to him?” I demand, whirling to face Tyler.
“He’s not for you.” He’s a foot away, a muscle leaping in his jaw.
Everything from this week piles on top of itself until I’m feeling as if I’m in a different dimension than the carefree dancing people around me. “You don’t know that.”
“You’re already hanging with the brother of your stepmom’s best friend when you’re hiding out here. You’re gonna fuck him too?”
I blink up at him, trying to make sense of the meaning behind his frustrated words.
Beck. Serena’s Beck, the one she mentioned had gotten into Vanier…
“No.” They have different last names, but it’s too much of a coincidence.
His gaze narrows, and I know it’s true.
“Does he know who I am?” I manage.
“He hasn’t put it together. But he will. Who knows? Maybe if you hook up with him, he’ll keep your secret.”
Someone bumps me from behind, and I step forward. Tyler’s hands are there, catching me by the arm and the waist.
“You didn’t used to be such a prick,” I state, angry.
“You didn’t used to be such a flirt. He can’t make you happy.”
His words catch me off guard. “Why not?”
“Because you need someone who understands what makes you tick, like those music boxes you used to collect. Someone who knows you’re going to get into trouble, who has your back when you do.”
I could pull away, but there’s barely enough room to breathe. “And that’s you?”
Tyler bends closer, his lips near my ear so suddenly I can’t stop him. “It’s not him.”
The truth of those words hangs between us.
Since I moved here, it feels as if this new world is a dark, vast ocean dotted with sharks under the water.
Tyler is familiar—a beacon in its own treacherous tide but one I know.
All I want is a night to forget that I’m alone in this city, that people rise and fall in an instant, that the only boy I ever loved has moved on and so have I.
The song changes again, a sexy downtempo remix of “Pretty Young Thing.”
I turn but don’t step away. My shoulders bump his chest, my ass hitting his thighs. I roll my body once, twice. The friction of his clothes on my ass, the bare skin of my back, makes me bite my lip.
He doesn’t move.
Catching Tyler by surprise is reward enough, but I push my luck.
I reach up behind my head for his neck, brush the edge of his hair above his collar. My fingertips trail along his scalp.
Tyler responds so fast it makes my breath hitch.
He drags me closer with strong arms. His hand splays across my stomach, and when his thumb slips under the edge of my shirt, his pinkie under the top of my skirt, he hardens against my back.
Fuck. I wonder if I’m tall enough to ride this ride.
But I’m more than capable of handling Tyler Adams.
So, I lean my head back against his chest and close my eyes.
The bass in the club pulses through my heels. The pounding music drowns out everything between us, shakes loose the hurt and feelings until there’s no room for anything but this moment. Sweating, wanting, moving, living.
My fingers trace the hard forearm banding around my waist, the lines of ink. “You got a tattoo.”
Tyler’s face bends close to mine, and my breath hitches as his lips graze my temple. “More than one. You want to see them?”
The crowd presses in on us, and I sense Elle, Rae, Beck, and others. Friends and strangers. Celebration and oblivion.
I want to disappear into it.
“Yes,” I whisper.
The hair above the neck of his shirt is damp. Not quite long enough to tug. Some part of me wants to try anyway.
His lips graze my ear, and I tilt my chin back as they drag down my jaw. Heat streaks between my thighs, weaves a rope of need that joins us together, as I move against him in the dark.