Текст книги "My Soul to Keep"

Автор книги: Kennedy Ryan

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“PLEASE TELL ME THAT ISN’T BREAKFAST.”

San’s comment pulls my attention from the bowl of green goop I’m mixing on the counter.

“Hardy har har.” I crease my quick grin with sarcasm. “This is my avocado face mask. You actually could eat it though. You got your avocado, honey, oatmeal, vinegar, and lemon juice. Yum-my.”

“If you say so.” San looks from me to the bowl of goop. “You are planning to eat something though, right?”

He knows I’ve been doing better. I’ve been eating better and feeling better, but his concern lingers.

“You gotta eat, Kai.”

“Yeah, and I will in a minute. Stop worrying so much about me. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s homemade spa time.”

I head to my bedroom, scoop my hair up into two loop ponytails high on either side of my head, and spread the avocado mask onto my face. I chill in my Partridge Family nightshirt, flipping through the latest LUCKY magazine while the mask hardens.

“Kai, your phone’s ringing,” San calls from the front room. “R. Geritol calling.”

I’m up and off the bed before I’ve blinked twice, sprinting to the kitchen and snatching up my phone from the counter. Rhyson’s face is onscreen in FaceTime mode.

“Kai, you’ve still got the . . .” San trails off with a small smile. “Never mind.”

“Hi, Rhys.” I walk with the phone back into my bedroom. He’s been in New York for a few days, and it’s so good to see his smile, even if it is on a tiny screen.

“Um . . . Kai?” Rhyson stands outside on a sidewalk, a grin taking up half his face. “What’s that all over your . . . ?”

He circles his face with a finger, and I glance into the corner of the screen and screech like a banshee when my green face stares back at me from the tiny block.

“Oh, God. Let me wash this off.”

“No way. I only have a few minutes.”

“Rhys, do you honestly expect me to have this conversation wearing an avocado mask?”

“I honestly do. You look really cute.”

“Yeah, to aliens. I’m probably excreting extraterrestrial pheromones.”

“Call me ET.” He laughs at his own corny joke. “Cut me some slack. My day has been nonstop, and I’m exhausted. I really do only have a few minutes, so leave the mask for the sake of time.”

I groan and settle onto the edge of the bed, my cheeks burning with a blush that probably headlights through the green goop.

“Look where I am.” He repositions the phone up so I see the sign behind and above him.

“Southern Hospitality, huh?” I think of my salad waiting in the fridge, and my stomach protests with a growl. “Isn’t that Justin Timberlake’s spot?”

“Sure is. Made me think of you.” Rhys grins back into the screen and walks into the restaurant. He flicks his chin up at someone in greeting before following them to a back corner and settling into an empty leather-seated booth. “My band is here already at another table, so I gotta go soon. The bass player insisted we try this place.”

If there was a speedometer on my heart, it would be popping and sputtering right now. The poor thing tom toms in my chest the longer I look at Rhyson. He holds the phone with one hand and takes off his newsboy cap with the other, spilling his hair over his forehead and ears.

“How’s New York?” I finally ask to keep myself from drooling.

“Fucking freezing.” Rhys peels the scarf away from his neck and lays the phone on the table, peering down at me, offering a reverse aerial view of his face. “And so busy. I had the GQ shoot this morning, a session right after. We’re eating lunch and then prepping for Fallon this evening.”

“Poor baby with the rock star lifestyle.”

“You shut it. Posing and looking badass is hard work.”

“Oh, I’m so sure. Sounds like fun.”

“It has been. I like it here. New Yorkers are so jaded they barely blink when they see me. It’s awesome. I haven’t used a disguise once. I have a small security detail, but I’m walking around pretty freely.”

“Would you ever think of moving there?”

“Oh, I thought you knew.” He raises both brows and runs a hand through all that beautiful, sloppy hair. “I have a place here. An apartment.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“I just don’t come out here much.” Rhyson’s expression hardens almost undetectably, like the mask on my face. “My parents are in New York, so . . . I mean, they aren’t in the city, but still.”

“I get that. I’m assuming you won’t see them while you’re there?”

“No, but they’ve been trying to get me to come home for Christmas.”

“You should. It’s been how long since you saw them?”

“A few years. I doubt if they miss me. They have a steady stream of income from my old royalties. That’s all they need from me, I think.”

“You sound so cynical. I know they went about everything the wrong way. I hate that, but I’m sure they miss you.”

He gives a quick shake of his head, dismissing my comment and the subject.

“Let’s talk about something else. I have a question for you. This is a serious question and requires a serious response.”

“Oh, boy. Shoot.”

Rhyson waits an extra beat, his eyes darkening and intensifying as he bites his bottom lip.

“It’s okay for friends to miss each other, right?”

I take a deep breath, staring into his serious eyes and nodding.

“Good, ‘cause I miss you, Pep.” His rich voice deepens over the words. “I miss you a lot. I wish you were here with me.”

“Rhyson—”

“Kai.” He imitates the higher pitch of my voice and drags the name out with my Southern drawl. Despite the teasing voice, his eyes remain earnest. “Do you miss me?”

Yes. Yes, I really, really do. I didn’t realize how much I’ve come to love the texts during the day, the rides home, the long talks over lunch or dinner until he went to New York. I can’t say all of that. I’m the one who said just friends, and that would sound like . . . more. So I settle for a simple truth that will not make things more complicated.

“Yes.”

“Good.” A smile creases his lean cheeks. “So you’ll go to my friend’s birthday party when I get back? The one I told you about?”

“Um . . . I have to check my work schedule. You know my life is all over the place.”

“Everyone deserves a little time off, Pep. Even you.”

His eyes, nimbus-grey, like clouds before a storm, make everything hazy and humid, like he’s right beside me, pressing his lean, muscled body into mine. The longer we hold that look without speaking, the more we say.

I miss you.

I want you.

I wish you were here.

I snip the hot thread between us stretching from coast to coast with my words.

“I’ll take it under advisement, Mr. Gray.”

He glances up, smiles, and reaches to fist bump someone I can’t see, before returning his glance to the screen.

“You do that,” he says. “Make sure you watch me on Fallon tonight.”

“I’ll have to DVR it. I have to work, and I’m closing.”

“You should probably watch since I’m gonna shout you out.”

“You will not. Rhyson Gray, if you—”

“Untwist your panties. Nobody but us will know. I’ll tug on my ear twice, which means, ‘Hey, Pep. What’s up?’”

“You’re ridiculous.” I try to hold onto my sensibilities, but it’s like holding my breath. I can only do it for so long.

“Hey. I gotta go. Our table’s ready. Bye.”

“Okay.

“Watch tonight.”

After we disconnect, I sit on the edge of my bed with the phone dark and quiet in my lap. What am I going to do about this thing between Rhys and me? I can lie to him, but I’ve never been one to lie to myself. He’s wanted more than friendship from the beginning. He settled for less, but I know he’s not that guy. He’s the guy you only deny for so long before you give him exactly what he wants.

And Rhyson wants me.

God, I want him too, but I didn’t delay my dreams for five years to come out to L.A. and be some rock star’s plus one.

“All done?” Santos leans one shoulder against the doorframe.

“Yeah. Thanks for the heads up about the mask, by the way.”

“Couldn’t resist. Things going well out there?”

“Yeah. He didn’t have much time. He’s headed to rehearse for Fallon right after lunch.”

“So you two still pretending to be just friends?”

“Pretty much.” I’ve stopped denying it. We are more than friends, and I have to figure out what I’m going to do about it.

“Would it really be so wrong to just do it? Just give it a shot with him?”

“Yes, wrong on so many levels.”

“Tell me more about these levels. Kai.”

“First of all, he’s a huge rock star for God’s sake. People will assume he got me where I’m going. I don’t need that. I want to earn this on my own and for there to be no doubt how I got there.”

San shrugs and turns his lips down in that way that always tells me he thinks I’m full of shit.

“That’s pretty flimsy to me, Kai, but if you say so.”

“It’s not flimsy. It’s true.”

“And the other level it’s so wrong on?”

“Well, for another thing he’s a huge rock star.”

“That sounds suspiciously like the first level.”

“Let me finish. He’s a great guy, but he is a rock star. He’s going on tour. Do you really think he can be faithful? Can be depended on? To stick? To stick around?”

San cocks his head to the left, studying me with a new understanding in his eyes. All of a sudden, I’m glad I still have the green goop on my face to hide behind.

“Just makes me wonder if we’re really talking about Rhyson.” He pauses, his eyes breaking it to me gently before he continues. “Or if this is actually about your dad.”

And with that parting shot, he turns on his heel and walks away.

I hate it when he knows me better than I know myself.

“NOW WHOSE PARTY IS THIS AGAIN?”

I’m just about to answer Kai’s question when she comes down the tiny hall of her tiny apartment wearing a tiny top and jeans that cling to the luscious curve of her hips and ass.

“Uh . . .” What was the question?

“The party?” Kai prods me with raised brows. “Whose birthday party is it and am I dressed okay?”

She’s wearing makeup, which I haven’t seen much. Smoky eye shadow exaggerates the tilt of her almost-black eyes. Her lips are lush and nude colored. The dark hair I can barely keep my hands out of on the best of days rolls past her shoulders in a dark, straight, shiny curtain. Her bright-red top falls well below her breasts, but still leaves the subtle, sexy pack of tight abdominal muscles on display. When she moves just the right way, I can see the small script tattoo curving under her breast and over her delicate rib cage. I want to make her move in just the right way all night.

“Yeah, the party.” Think using the other head. “It’s my friend, Jimmi’s, birthday party.”

“Jimmi as in Jimmi Dawson? The singer?” Kai’s dark brows jerk together, and she looks down at what she’s wearing. “Is this, like, a big deal party?”

“No, it’s super casual. Look at what I’m wearing.”

I know it’s different for guys, but my dark wash jeans and Bob Marley hoodie should reassure her that this isn’t exactly a red-carpet event.

“Okay.” She grabs her keys from the hook on the wall. “I’m ready.”

I’m not. I just got back from New York yesterday, and today is the first time I’ve seen her since we rode dune buggies at Pismo Beach. I’d rather stay here and endure another season of Sex and the City than share her company with other people. But Jimmi will castrate me if I don’t show. She still might. I’m not great at hiding my attraction for Kai. Jimmi will spot that shit right away. Considering the last real conversation we had was me telling Jimmi we should just forget we slept together, she might not be happy that I’m showing up with another girl at her birthday party.

But that was months ago.

I ignore Marlon’s voice in my head telling me I’m a delusional idiot and head out. Jimmi loves to bowl, so Pins & Needles is the perfect place for her party. It’s got a ton of lanes, a great bar, and a tattoo studio in the back.

“I’m gonna park in the back lot.” I turn to Kai, struggling not to notice the way her seatbelt slices between her breasts. Am I thirteen again?

“Okay.”

“It’s not a big party or anything, but there are several celebrities here.” I open my door, walking fast around the front of the Cayenne to open hers before she can do it herself. “And there’s always some pap lurking. I just don’t want you caught up in that.”

“Believe me, neither do I.”

She laughs up at me, and I want to hold her hand. To stake that claim before we walk into this party with all these guys who will find it just as hard as I do not to stare at Kai. But she tucks both hands into her back pockets and walks beside me, eyes fixed on her silver sequined Converse with their wedge heels. How she walks in them, I have no idea, but they’re kind of adorable.

As soon as we walk in, people stick to me like flies to fly paper. Where was all this attention in high school, when I was an awkward sixteen-year-old who had never been to a school dance? Who’d only ever had private tutors and barely knew one song on the radio? The guy who had been kissed by one girl in his whole life and almost threw up the first day of tenth grade? That guy would have loved the attention. This me now, not so much.

I keep my circle small, but Jimmi has friends, acquaintances, associates, frenemies, and they’re all here. I immediately want to drag Kai back out to the car. This is much more public and much less private than I thought it would be. I don’t even have names for half the faces crowding around me. Fame is such a charade. These people all think they know me because, what? We attend the same parties? Move in the same circles? Drive the same cars? Fuck the same people? Sometimes my life nauseates me, and I just want to hibernate in the studio under my piano, make music, and play Madden all day.

“Introduce us, Rhys.” Some short guy with blond hair and, if I remember correctly, one Grammy nom to his name, runs his beady eyes up and down Kai’s body. She inches imperceptibly closer to me. Good girl.

“I would introduce you, man, but I honestly don’t remember your name.”

So I become an asshole at these things.

Kai’s smothered laugh as the guy turns and stalks off makes me feel better about myself. She leans up to whisper in my ear, and her hand burns a slender hole in my arm where she touches me.

“That was rude.” I feel her lips curved into a grin against my ear, so I think she approves.

With one hand claiming the curve of her back, I lean down to whisper to her, hoping the six or so people still standing around take the hint that I have no interest in talking to them.

“I was just being honest.” I press my nose into her hair. Damn, she always smells so good. “I have no idea who that guy was. I don’t know these other people either.”

She pulls back so our eyes can share the inside joke.

“Then who do you know?”

I’m just about to tell her when someone grabs my shoulder and forces me to turn around. I suppress the string of curses I was ready to unleash when I see the girl I am actually here for.

“Jimmi.” My face softens and my shoulders relax as we hug. I really hope we can get past that drunken lay on the Fourth of July because Jim’s one of my best friends. “Happy birthday, baby doll. Quite the crowd you got here.”

“I’m glad you came.” Her blue eyes smile back at me, and I think we’ll be fine. Then her eyes go hard and her smile disappears when she notices Kai standing closer to me than anyone is usually allowed at these parties. “And who’s this?”

Here goes.

“Jim, this is my friend, Kai.” For once, I’m glad Kai froze us in the outer reaches of friendship. “Kai, this is the birthday girl, Jimmi Dawson.”

“Nice to meet you.” Kai steps forward and offers a friendly smile. When Jimmi doesn’t respond right away, Kai’s smile disappears little by little. She bites her bottom lip and stares back at Jimmi.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Finally Jimmi speaks, toggling her eyes speculatively between Kai and me. “Rhyson hasn’t mentioned you before. He doesn’t usually bring . . . friends around.”

“We haven’t known each other that long.” Kai gives me a quick glance and smile.

“Yeah, Kai’s one of Grady’s students.” I hope that mollifies Jimmi some, but I see a bad light bulb go off and realize I should have kept my mouth shut.

“Ah, a singer.” Jimmi squeezes her lips into a tight smile and flicks her brown-when-we-first-met-currently-red hair over one shoulder. “I see.”

“And a dancer too,” I add.

Kai smiles stiffly, her discomfort obvious.

“Oh, a dancer.” Jimmi’s face lights up and she starts looking around the room. “I have someone you just have to meet. The choreographer from my last video. He’s so good he even made me look like I could dance.”

That was a small miracle because Jim’s about as coordinated as I am. She waves over this . . . guy. I dislike him on sight. It’s not the fact that he’s tall and ripped. That he has caramel skin and bleached platinum blonde hair buzzed close to his head. I can’t tell what ethnicity this guy is, but I know that all girls would like him. It’s none of that. What I dislike immediately is how he’s looking at Kai.

“Dub, I wanted to introduce you to someone,” Jimmi just about purrs, searching my face for a response. “You know Rhyson, don’t you?”

“We’ve never met, but I love your music,” Dub says with an Irish lilt to his voice. One more reason to dislike him. He extends his fist for me to pound.

I pound reluctantly.

“And this,” Jimmi pulls Kai over to Dub. “Is Rhyson’s friend, Kai. She’s a dancer.”

His green-grey eyes light up as they follow the lines and swells of Kai’s petite frame.

“Cool.” He takes Kai’s hand and smiles right into her eyes. “I’d love to see what you got.”

Kai’s cheeks go rosy, and she shifts her weight from one sequined Converse to the other.

“Jimmi got a sick DJ,” Dub says, still holding Kai’s damn hand. “We’re battling in a little bit.”

“Battling?” I don’t like the sound of that.

“It’s not violent, Rhys.” Jimmi laughs at me. “You should see your face! It’s like when dancers go back and forth . . . dancing.”

“I know what battling is, Jim.” Well, now I know.

Pitbull’s voice comes over the sound system, and then Ne-Yo joins in. Kai’s probably not even aware that her shoulders have started moving, but I am. And so is Dub.

“Wanna dance?” Dub gestures toward a section of the room cleared of tables and chairs. A group of people have started dancing in ways I’d never attempt.

Kai turns wide eyes in my direction and drops Dub’s hand. Is she just now figuring out that he’s pushing up on her? Oblivious.

“Don’t worry about Rhyson.” Jimmi pats Kai’s shoulder with a reassuring hand. “He and I have a few things to talk about anyway.”

Kai’s tiny frown silently asks me if it’s okay.

“It’s fine.” I shrug like I don’t care when I actually want to dislocate Dub’s shoulder. “Have fun. I’ll be here.”

She looks between Jimmi and me for a few seconds before nodding at Dub and walking off. I follow Jimmi to a booth facing the bowling alley, making sure not to look back over my shoulder to check on Kai. Jimmi’s a sharp-eyed cat. First sign that I care more about Kai than she thinks I should, and Kai is on her list. If she’s not already simply for being here with me. I’ve never brought a girl to things like this, so if I want Jimmi to think Kai’s just a friend, I need to leash the wild animal that wants to go drag her off the dance floor.

“You happy now?” I force myself to grin instead of grind my teeth to dust while Kai’s with Dub.

Jimmi takes a sip of her chocolate martini and smiles, eyes narrowed on my face like she’s still searching for clues.

“What better way to see what she means to you than to give her to someone else?”

“You could’ve just asked.”

“Oh, but people say things they don’t mean all the time.” Her face sobers, her smile disintegrating. “Like the night we hooked up. I’m sure you said some things you didn’t mean, right?”

Aw, hell.

“Jim, we were both a little drunk that night.”

“Not that drunk.” She pushes her glass away and fiddles with a toothpick piercing an appetizer on the tray in the middle of the table.

“I thought we agreed to forget about it.”

“I’ve tried, Rhys. I can’t.”

I feel like a real dick when tears gather in her eyes. I’ve known this girl since tenth grade. I fucked up.

“Look, I’m—”

Someone hits me on the head, cutting off my worthless apology. I turn to find Marlon standing behind us, his dreadlocks hidden under a floppy beanie sporting the Rasta colors of red, yellow, and green.

“Whassup!” Maroln throws himself into the space across the table from me. “How’s the birthday girl?”

Jimmi discreetly passes a cocktail napkin under her eyes, soiling it with her mascara.

“I’m good. Thanks for coming, Grip.”

She’s known him as long as I have, but she, unlike me, calls him by his stage name. I refuse. She was less prepared for fame than he and I were. Marlon attended our school of the arts on scholarship, and was bussed in from a few neighborhoods over. His background was hard, and mine was privileged, but we’d both grown a protective shell by the time we met. Jimmi hadn’t. It took her a little longer, and even though she has it now, it slips sometimes. You’d only figure her smile for a phony if you’d known her as long as we have. Marlon’s eyes bounce between the two of us, and he frowns at me. I give him my “What?” face, but he just rolls his eyes.

“Where you been?” I ask.

“Working on Bristol.” He gives me an inappropriate leer, given that he’s talking about my sister. “I think she’s close to going out with me.”

“No, she’s not,” my sister says, dropping into the seat beside Marlon.

“I thought you said—”

“What’d I tell you about thinking?” Bristol winks at me across the table, picks up Jimmi’s chocolate martini, and takes a sip. “Hmmmm. Whose is this? It’s great.”

“Mine,” Jimmi pipes up, her smile becoming more real by the second. She loves Bristol. “S’good, right?”

“Delish.” Bristol clasps her hands together and leans forward on her elbows. “Now did you two talk about which dates Jimmi’s joining you on the tour next year?”

My sister is all business, all the time.

“Bris, it’s Jimmi’’s birthday,” I say. “No business.”

“My people will call his people,” Jimmi promises with an easy grin for my sister. When her eyes flick back to me, we both look away. This is tough. Unnecessarily awkward, and all because I couldn’t keep my dick behind closed zippers.

“Cool.” Bristol’s grey eyes, identical to mine, wander to the dance floor. “Who’s that fine guy I saw you with earlier, Jim?”

Marlon leans back deeper into his seat, draping one elbow over the back of his chair and frowning. How’d he end up hooked on my sister? She’s the worst girl to fall for. Years under my parents’ roof did the same things to her they did to me, only for longer. And she actually liked it.

“Who, Dub?” Jimmi raises her sleek brows and flashes that smile that girls share when they talk dirty about a guy.

“Dub?” Bristol knocks back the rest of the martini. The girl drinks like a fish. “What kind of name is that?”

“Short for Dublin,” Jimmi says. “It’s just what they call him. He’s a choreographer from Ireland. I don’t even know his real name.”

Bristol nods to the dance floor, a lascivious smile on her face.

“If he moves in the bed anything like he does on the dance floor, I don’t care what you call him.”

That vein in Marlon’s forehead may burst. The muscle clenched in his jaw could puncture the skin. I just want to tell him to forget about it. Marlon isn’t my sister’s type. She couldn’t care less that he’s featured on a number one album and is already performing at sold out concerts. The guy she will ultimately end up with is probably wearing a three-piece suit in some boardroom right now. And the kind of guy she’ll fuck around with until then? Is out on the dance floor somewhere, not mooning over her. Bristol doesn’t do complicated or clingy, and her brother’s best friend could be both.

“And who’s the girl he’s dancing with?” Bristol frowns and reaches for the glass again. “What do I have to do to get another one of those?”

“Just ask.” Marlon stands up and stalks off to the bar.

Pussy whipped and getting no pussy seems like a waste to me, but who am I to judge? The girl who has me whipped is out on the floor dancing her ass off with some Irish body builder.

“That’s Rhyson’s ‘friend.’” Jimmi provides helpful air quotes around “friend” so Bristol knows it’s a load of crap.

Bristol turns her probing glance on me.

“You brought her?”

She says it as if I smuggled Ebola across the border.

“She’s one of Grady’s students.”

I give her the same line I gave Jimmi, and she buys it even less.

“A singer?” The word tastes foul in her mouth judging by the grimace on her face.

“I’m a singer. What’s wrong with singers?”

“No, brother, you are not just a singer. You are already a star.” Bristol takes the chocolate martini Marlon brings her, giving him a quick smile before returning her attention to me. “She’s a wannabe singer. Which makes her a groupie. Which makes me wonder why you brought her.”

“Told you that chick was thirsty,” Marlon offers as he slides back in his chair.

“She’s not.” My words slice into our conversation sharper than I intended, but I won’t let them talk about Kai like that. “Don’t say it again.”

Marlon and I hold a stare long enough for him to know I mean it. If we’re comparing clout scores, they know mine is higher than all of theirs combined. I don’t flash it around, but I have more than money in this town. My history and the success I’ve found over the last few years give me a broader reach than Jimmi or Marlon. It gives me influence. It gives me power. They know it and I know it. It’s not something I throw around, but it positions me as the undeclared leader of our little group, as much as most of the time I don’t want to be. They know when I’m serious about something. And they know I’m serious about them laying off Kai. At least Marlon does.

That song “Truffle Butter” comes on, and a small group of dancers circle up and start battling.

Look at me adapting and using my new word already.

Each person has their solo moment to show off what they can do before passing it off to the next person. Dub is fantastic. His body is as much an instrument as my piano, and he plays it with confidence. He commands everyone’s attention with the fluidity of every movement. Popping his shoulders, rolling his body, every motion purposeful but effortless.

And then it’s Kai’s turn. I’m nervous for her. I’ve seen her teach her dance class, and I can tell she’s good, but this guy, these dancers, are on another level. I hope she can hold her own.

As soon as she starts moving, my jaw hangs open. I knew she was talented, but I had no idea how little I had seen. Not only is she holding her own, but she is more magnetic than Dub ever could be. She spins, dark hair swinging out behind her. She drops to her haunches, rolling her hips back and forth, and then pops upright, arms extended over her head, eyes closed, head rolled back. She loses herself in the sensual pull of the music, and she’s making love to the beat. Thrusting, grinding, her body rolling, finding the pulse embedded in the lyrics.

My dick is like a lead pipe under this table. I want her to the point of physical pain. There is only one release for this, and that’s having Kai spread beneath me, her body the harbor I sink into. Unrestricted access to all that sweetness. I want to tear the roof off this place because she won’t give herself to me. I feel Jimmi’s eyes on me, watching me watching Kai, but I can’t help it. And even though I know the longer I watch Kai, the more Jimmi will hate her, I can’t look away.

Dub steps into Kai’s space, and her eyes open slowly like she expected him, like she lured him. He cradles her hips with his hands and pulls her into his body. Kai doesn’t miss a beat, but twists until her back presses into his chest. She rolls her hips into his before spinning away, teasing him over her shoulder, her eyes holding him captive. He chases her, grabs her, lifts her. She wraps her legs around his waist and falls back until her hair brushes the floor. She snaps herself back up, pressing their chests together, and then she slides down his body like honey, coating him with her arms and legs before sliding away again. It’s like their bodies know exactly what to do. Instinct, talent, and elegant athleticism spark a connection between their bodies that has everyone around them cheering and high-fiving and clapping.

When the song ends, that confident sensuality Kai wore like skin during the music, falls away. I think I just witnessed the alter ego she told me shows up when she performs. She leaves the center of the circle, and I know her well enough to see self-consciousness settle around her shoulders. She laughs up at Dub, but it’s not reckless and free like moments before. I know that feeling. True freedom is only really found in those moments where you’re unleashed into your purpose. Something comes alive in me that lays dormant when I’m not making music. I will never shine brighter than I do behind a piano or a microphone.

The stage is my galaxy. It’s Kai’s too, and she’s destined to be a shooting star. My days of having her to myself are numbered, but I’m okay with that. I want that for her. I’ll share her with the rest of the world, but if I didn’t know before, I know now. I want to see her soar. Hell, I’m determined to help her soar higher than she ever imagined, if she’ll let me, but when she comes down, I want her to land with me.