Page 6 of Dash

I’m dead on my feet, but as I walk to Temptation, I brush off the shit of today because tonight is a party and I won’t turn up dragging my baggage behind me.

Ivy.My girl.My best fucking friend in the whole world and the bravest fucking person I’ve ever met is celebrating her engagement tonight. I’ve never been more proud of someone in my entire life.

She clawed her way out of hell to rebuild her life after her shitty ex tried to shatter her, and tonight is the first step in her fairytale.

I like Riot.

He’s a good guy, if a little intense. And by that, I mean completely fucking unhinged in how he takes care of Ivy.

She can barely lift a finger without him breathing down her neck, and I’ve never seen her so happy.

You want that too…

You want someone to see you.

You want to be worthy of that kind of love.

But I’m not. I’ll never be.

I snuff out that voice in my head, force my smile as I walk through the main doors.

Until Maylie’s birthday party, I’d never set foot in a strip bar. This is the second time in as many weeks, though tonight feels different.

Music throbs through the room, people already swaying to the beat, drinks flowing freely.

I don’t recognise half the people—Riot’s friends, I guess. Ivy doesn’t have a big circle, not after the shit with her ex.

I scan for familiar faces, spotting Maylie’s stripper friends sitting with her on the far side of the room.

She looks like a fertility goddess with her belly round and swollen beneath her dress. Maylie wears pregnancy well, even though she looked half-dead in the early part of it.

I search for Ivy and Katie, spotting the cliques and little groups collecting around the room while I linger on the sideline.

Alone. Wrong.

I don’t fit this world, but I don’t work in my mother’s either.

I don’t know who Dayna Harrington is.

I know the costumes I wear, the masks—the shit I hide behind a too-big personality and too many drinks. But I’m floating through life, unsure, aching for something more.

Tonight is not the time for your existential crisis, Dayna. Your best friend needs you to be normal.

So, I do what I always do. I bury my feelings, my pain, like I don’t have a single fucking thing to worry about, and I become her.

The Dayna they all expect.

In the sea of people, I spot Riot. He’s standing at the bar with Mace, both in those leather vests they wear, and two guys I don’t recognise. I follow the direction his gaze keeps darting in and see Ivy sitting at a table with Katie.

Their smiles are easy and their laughter is real. I envy that. I don’t remember the last time I was happy. Maybe I’ve never been. Even as a kid, drowning in gilded desires and pretty gowns those bands around my chest were already there. That hollow ache too.

I sidestep a huge guy and his buddies, my gaze locked on the table, my thoughts as broken as the walls I’m holding together.

One second, I’m walking, and the next, he’s just…there.

My face is smashed against a wall of muscle. I throw up my hands instinctively as rough palms grasp my bare arms, steadying me. Tight, firm, but not bruising.

“Shit.” His voice is gravel and damnation. Deep and raw in a way that promises things I shouldn’t crave. “You okay?”

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