“I want to see you.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Give me one solid reason why?”
“Shelly.”
Silence follows, I almost call his name to see if he’s still there.
“Via.” My name is merely a murmur, so soft as if he’s caressing it. “It’s always been you.”
My breath catches, and I throw the remainder of my food in the bin before squeezing my eyes shut, trying to stop the inevitable tears. After a minute, I calm down enough to talk.
“Then tell me what happened in those five years, tell me why you wouldn’t talk to me.”
“No,” his reply is instant.
“No?” I practically spit the word. With a shake of my head, it dawns on me that no matter my feelings, or his, there will never be anything more between us because there’s already so much. A mass of insurmountable obstacles stopping the real connection taking root.
“Via, I’m—”
“Don’t bother,” I cut him off. “You have Shelly, and you won’t be honest with me. I don’t think there’s anything more to add.”
He sighs. “Via, there is so much more, I just can’t tell you. Not yet.”
I drop backwards onto my bed, covering my eyes with my forearm. “Isaac, listen, when you’re single, and ready to be completely honest, then come find me, if I’m still available.”
“What the fuck does if I’m still available mean?” he growls.
“Goodbye Isaac,” I hiss cutting him off as he calls my name.
I give myself only a few moments to wallow in self-pity. Not so long that I feel the need to go out and find Helena so she can slap some sense into me.
Standing, I do ten star jumps to get the blood pumping. I shake my whole body out and awaken my inner dancer. “Right, let’s find the perfect outfit,” I say to myself moving back to my wardrobe. When going to clubs these days, I see most women wearing tight pencil skirts with bandage style crop tops. I rarely do. It restricts my dancing, and while most people go to clubs to find a sexual partner or at least a little flirtation, I go to dance. “You,” I mumble, pulling out a black crop top and black leggings with silver crosses printed all over them. I tug the leggings on and slip the top over my head, adding a pair of black ankle boots with pin-thin high heels. I finish off my makeup and brush my now long platinum hair. Finally satisfied with my appearance, I face myself in the mirror and smile devilishly. Tonight I’m going to heat up the dance floor.
“Is it a whiskey or wine night?” Toby asks as we enter the club.
I glance back at him and shout above the music, “If you bring me wine tonight, I may stab you with my heels.”
“Noted.” He smirks and heads toward the bar.
A few hours later and after a brief conversation with everyone, I’ve left them back at a table on the balcony overlooking the dance floor so they can see me. Going downstairs, my eyes meet Josh, a guy I have been dancing with all night.
“You’re back,” he shouts as he joins me among the sweaty bodies.
“Shhh,” I reply pressing my finger to his lips.
I close my eyes and lose myself to the rhythm. The songs change from one to another, time and time again. Mid-song a prickle canters across my skin, and my eyes shoot open searching the crowd. I spot him. Standing head and shoulders above everyone, his eyes are hooded and roaming all over me. He spies Josh’s hand attached to my hip and even from across the room, I can see a muscle stretch and tighten in his cheek.
“I need a drink,” I say, leaning toward Josh and indicating I’m going to leave the dance floor.
“You stay, I’ll get it,” he tells me, and I consider his offer before nodding in agreement.
He walks toward the bar as I continue dancing. Isaac’s eyes pin me down and only move away at the last minute as Josh walks past him. Isaac turns and joins Josh at the bar. I have no idea what he says, but the next moment Josh has visibly paled and quickly glances back at me with fear before rushing through the crowd—away from me.
Fucking Isaac.
He turns and watches Josh leave, but I don’t, I can’t tear my eyes away from Isaac’s face. There’s a hardness in his eyes, an edge that’s aimed fully at the man who has danced with me all night. My breath stutters, and I momentarily lose control when he moves his gaze back to me. His features change, warmth fills his eyes along with recognition and something else, something animalistic.
One song finishes, and Beyoncé’s ‘Crazy in Love’ comes on, but it’s the slow, sexy remix. Isaac strides over, and with no words, pulls me flush into him. Every part of us is touching, and I can’t control myself. I sometimes forget he can dance. Aunt Sophie taught all three of her boys well.
My favourite dance style is Bachata Sensual. It’s a fusion dance based on the traditional bachata from the Caribbean. I’ve always loved the movement and intimacy. It’s a follow and lead dance, and there are no set steps. It’s all about feeling the dance and the man is always the master. It’s sexy and sensual. I’ve only ever danced it with Isaac.
Like no time has passed since we were last standing in this position, he leads my every movement, pulling my body so I’m rubbing up against him. His leg slips in between mine and our hips grind as they move from side to side. I almost groan. We might have clothes on, but there is no doubt in my mind that we’re having sex on the dance floor. Every second I watch
