Page 163 of Wicked Minds
Still, when the lights come on and the music begins, my eyes lock with Grayson’s across the room, and while it’s different, that feeling of the world fading around me is the same.
Grayson’s stare is just as powerful. Reeling me in as I sashay and sway on the stage, dipping and stretching in time to the music. His stare darkens with each arch of my spine and curve of my hip. Not once does he look away from me, and when I’m not on the stage, his attention is focused entirely on Ben.
“No Royce tonight?” Tara asks, catching me watching Grayson from the shadows at the edge of the room.
“He was busy.”
“I’m guessing that’s Grayson?”
I nod, turning to look at her when she says, “Huh.”
“What?”
“Interesting how he’s here when he supposedly hates you.”
Looking back at Grayson, I tell her, “He knows everything.”
“He believes you?”
“He does.” I watch, intrigued, as Grayson gets up and goes over to the bar, ordering a drink before engaging Ben in conversation. I wish I could hear what they were saying.
“So he’s here as part of an apology?” Tara asks, sounding confused.
“He’s only here because Royce asked him to be. It’s got nothing to do with me.”
She huffs out a laugh that has me turning to arch a brow at her.
“Sure it doesn’t,” she says with a smirk. “‘Cause any guy would give up his Friday night to babysit his friend’s girlfriend.”
Rolling my eyes, I tell her, “It isn’t like that.”
“Babe, the way he’s been looking at you all night says otherwise. If you ask me, he kinda looks a lot like Royce when he looks at you like that.”
Giving her a deadpan stare, I droll, “You should get your eyes checked. You’re seeing things.”
She laughs, pulling me away and bringing an end to our conversation as we prepare for our next performance.
By the time the club is closing, my skin is buzzing from the attention I’ve received from Grayson all night, and I’m about to throttle Tara. Of course, she had to make some remark or ridiculous gesture after every performance and refused to drop the topic no matter how much I begged.
Grayson catches my eye, and I hold up two fingers, telling him I’ll be out in a few minutes. He nods before following the crowd outside, and I turn to get changed while Ben locks up.
“Gotta dash,” Tara says, throwing on her clothes in a rush.
“Where are you off to in such a rush?” I ask curiously.
She gives me a sly smirk, and I roll my eyes. “Have you at least given the poor guy a heads up that you’re a psycho?”
“Now, where would the fun in that be?” she teases, grabbing her bag. “I want all the deets tomorrow.”
She points a finger at me and is already dashing out of the dressing rooms as I call, “There won’t be any deets to tell!”
Sighing, I shake my head. The woman is incorrigible.
Spotting Kelsey sitting nearby as she wipes off her makeup, I point out, “You weren’t sick.”
She grins back at me. “I wasn’t sick. Thank goodness. And now I feel on top of the world… is that crazy or what?” She laughs at herself, but I shake my head.
“Totally understandable. It’s the adrenaline rush. I always leave here simultaneously buzzed and crashing. It’s a weird mix.”
