Page 106 of The Cruelest Kind of Hate
Confusion spumes inside me. “Uh.”
A grin lays claim to Kit’s face—a grin I don’t trust. “Shh. Just watch. You’ll love it.”
Oh, God. As I walk the thin tightrope stretched precariously over a net of panic, I search for the one person who constantly keeps my blood pressure in check, but she’s missing from the couch. Where’s my emotional support Cali?
Then, as if I’d willed her into existence, she comes trotting out with two other girls and Aeris, and her little entourage are all wearingmyjersey.
I’m officially on board with whatever I’m about to witness. They all take their positions with Cali being front and center, and then the starting notes of Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” start playing.
Oh my God. She’s going to dance. For me.I’m finally going to see her perform a full, choreographed dance. I’m finally going to see the last vulnerable side of her that I’ve tried so hard to catch a glimpse of.
She starts to sway her hips along to the catchy beats—her choreography dulled down to a kid-friendly version for the youngest member of the audience—and I’m having a hard time even focusing on her moves because I’m too in love with watching the pure joy on her face.
She steps forward and swings her right arm in front of herhead, whipping back around to step together before taking a wider stance. Then she pops her hip to the side and throws her head back at the same time, that slender body of hers undulating to the music. When she comes back to standing, the rest of her posse goes low as she extends her leg perfectly straight in some crazy side tilt.
While the other girls perform some floorwork, Cali’s owning that fucking stage with every enthusiastic facial expression and clean, hard-hitting movement. Her solo is art in motion. It’s everything I could’ve ever dreamed of. She flicks her hands above her head and twirls around, stopping seamlessly in a half-bent pose before rolling back up again. She flings her hair behind her like a trail of fire, and her next move consists of two bent arms pumping in front of her chest.
The rest of her crew joins her in the sequence and mirrors her, and when they come to a halt, all of them do three consecutive turns on one leg. None of them fall out of sync. They’re perfect.
Cali’s perfect.
She resumes the upbeat dance by lowering her center of gravity into a half-crouch, keeping her left knee bent and arching her spine to the same side. And when the chorus rises again in the song, the girls give her some space as Cali does a crazy cartwheel type thing without using her arms. She flips into the air with her perfectly pointed feet, body vertical to the ground, and my tongue practically lolls out of my mouth like a rolled-out red carpet.
I knew she was an incredible dancer, but holy shit. I can’t believe she did all of this for me. She went out of her way to put on this huge production forme. Nobody’s ever done anything so thoughtful for me before. Then again, nobody’s beenCali.
Fuck. I grow more in love with her every passing day, which is goddamn impossible because my love for her has exceeded allmetaphysical bounds of reality. It’s immeasurable. And at this rate, I’ll be a goner when that five-year mark comes around. I’ll be surprised if I even last five years to wait to propose to her.
If I thought she was beautiful just simply existing, she’s even more beautiful when she dances. There’s no sight of the tortured girl I met three months ago. She’s not overthinking or trying to contort herself to please everyone’s expectations. She’s not punishing herself for things out of her control. She’s free. And I helped make that possible for her.
I haven’t done a lot of things in my twenty-two years of life, but what I have done is shown the best person on this fucking planet how incredible she is. And that’s an accomplishment greater than a Stanley Cup.
When Cali ends the jaw-dropping routine with a pose on the ground, applause explodes from the couch, and I rush to her as fast as my legs will carry me. She rises up to meet me, shock giving leeway to cashmere-soft vulnerability.
“I can’t believe this is what you’ve been hiding from me all this time,” I exclaim, feeling my cheeks pinch with a Cheshire grin. “I always knew you were a beautiful dancer, but fuck. That was—I want to watch you dance for the rest of my life.”
Maybe it’s because she’s still catching her breath, but she fails to produce any words, the wideness of her eyes speaking volumes more than the aborted response on her tongue. So I bridge the silence and take her in my arms, dip her, then kiss her with raw abandon. I shatter into unimaginable colors, dark and light playing in a chiaroscuro over my eyelids. Unconditional love and undying reverence merge together to fuel the bass-like cadence of my heart.
And when I grant her a second to breathe, she eschews it and pulls me in closer, rejoining our lips as if the sun’s never promised to set.
I think I could get used to this.
36
ONE WEEK LATER
CALISTA
“Taking me so well this time, Spitfire. You missed this giant cock, didn’t you? Sucking me in real tight with that obedient little pussy of yours,” Gage coos, clamping his hands on the curves of my sides, thrusting his cockhead into my cervix and holding me captive with his hypnotizing strokes.
When one of my moans pitches into the air, no longer bayed by the grit of my teeth, a hand comes down on my ass cheek, smacking it so hard that the skin’s probably turned red. With each snap of Gage’s hips against my ass, he stokes the onslaught of pleasure in my belly.
“God, I love it when you’re loud. Letting everyone know I own this cunt.”
I bore my nails into the sheets of his bed, clinging to the mattress as my body rocks forward and my cunt squeezes back in retaliation. “And all this talking is making me dry,” I growl.
Another slap to my ass—one that ripples my flesh and issues a loud noise into the lust-laced atmosphere.
“You call this dry?” Gage slots himself rather sloppily into my pussy, the evidence of our arousal slicking together in asquelch that confutes my jab at him, and I hate to admit it, but the sound of us together makes me even wetter.
