“You want out,” I say, and her step falters as she walks away. Slowly she turns to face me.
“Yeah, I already said that.”
“Tell me, do you like my brother?” It’s a question I’ve never asked her before, but I see the way they look and flirt with each other, it’s hard not to notice—trained to or not.
Shrugging, Shelly opens and closes her mouth four times. I count. “It’s not a difficult question, or at least it shouldn’t be,” I tell her.
“It’s so much more fucking complicated than you’re making it out to be though, right?” she replies, leaning back against the wall.
“No.”
“No?” she asks sceptically.
“My parents know what we are, so does Toby.” I shrug.
“Yeah, but what about the rest of your family?”
“Easy, I publically dump you like a fucking dick and make them feel sorry for you. Then no one will care when you and Toby hook up.”
She shakes her head at me with a sad smile. “Worst idea ever, dickhead.”
“Okay, well you think of something better, and we’ll go with that,” I say with a wink, which I can see takes her aback as her eyes widen.
“Damn, Liv is a great influence on you,” she says softly. My eyes darken along with my mood, and Shelly holds up her hands. “Whoa, happy, it doesn’t hurt to smile.” She giggles to herself —fucking giggles—before walking off. My damn family has turned Shelly into Mrs. fucking Doubtfire.
LIV
Pasta is my saviour most days. I don’t cook much. I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want to or that I can’t. My lack of enthusiasm means I’ve never bothered to find out. But pasta I can cook, and being a dancer is the reason that particular food has always been my saviour. I shovel the last forkful into my mouth and groan with pleasure.
“You sound like a dirty bitch,” Helena offers unhelpfully. I roll my eyes and groan louder. She stares at me with disgust. “I have no idea why coffee-house guy is obsessed with you.”
I snort. “Well, he’s been quiet for a while now.”
Her head jerks back and she wipes her cheek with her finger. “Say it, don’t spray it.”
I laugh. “I didn’t spit at you, and when did you revert to a ten-year-old?” I raise my hands. “Oh right, I forgot, you’ve always been a ten-year-old.”
Helena screws her face up at me and rises to collect our plates, putting them into the dishwasher.
“You working tonight?” she asks, and I nod.
“You?”
“No. I’m not on until Saturday night.”
“I’m back on then, too. Can I have my tat done Sunday?” I question.
“Sure,” she says distractedly.
“You okay, Hel?” I ask.
“What? Oh yeah, I’m fine.”
“You can talk to me, you know?”
Her head turns so I have her eyes and her full attention. “Sorry Liv, I have to fit some time in to go back to see my grandparents as my nan isn’t well.”
I stand, and the chair scrapes back against the floor. “What’s wrong with her?”
“It’s flu, but you know, she’s old… it’s not great with her being frail...” her words trail off.
“You know if you need me to do anything…” I say pulling her into a hug.
“Thanks, Liv,” she murmurs into my shoulder as we hold onto each other with a death grip.
Feeling slightly melancholy, I pick one of my rarer song choices Des’ree’s ‘I’m Kissing You.’ I let the words and music flow into my mind until it’s all I know, all I hear. I can almost taste the emotion of the singer. At the end of my striptease, I have no idea what movements I made, but looking down I curse realising my underwear is still in place. I was supposed to remove the bra. As a cheer goes up around the room, I’m shocked to discover there’s zero disappointment at my covered breasts. I’m not sure whether I should take offence or regard it as a compliment. Smiling, I gracefully leave the stage and enter the dressing room.
“You killed it without getting your tits out. You’re too good for this place, Olivia,” another dancer, Marianne, tells me with a devilish smile as she heads out of the room to take the stage. It’s only the two of us tonight. Usually, there are at least six girls, but one has a sick kid, two of them coincidentally have the same bug, and Scatty Sarah is running late as usual. I push my iPod into the dock, and All That Remains’ ‘What If I Was Nothing’ fills the small room. Marianne is set to do a triple slot, so I have time to unwind. I slip on my button-up cotton nightshirt and pull off my underwear. I’ll have to choose another outfit for my next dance, but for right now, I’m going to sit still and close my eyes.
“I’m here, sorry!” Sarah shouts running in and out again and scaring me in the process. I roll my eyes but then lay back and close them again, smiling, knowing my break just lengthened.
The door clicks again, but I don’t open my eyes. “Forgot something already?” I ask her.
“Yes. I forgot to tell you something yesterday.” A deep, masculine voice wraps around my body and brushes against all my nerve endings. I jump up from my chair and twist until my wide eyes meet hooded ones.
“Isaac...” I breathe out.
“I need to remind you. You belong to me, you don’t get a choice in that, Via, you never did.”
I blink. The fingers of my right hand find their way to my left bicep, and I pinch the skin. Hard. “Fuck,” I cry out.
He smiles darkly and moves toward me.
I take a step back,
