Page 14 of Wicked Temptations
I walked through the back tunnels without seeing where I was going, my vision tunneling to a single point somewhere in the distance. The weight of what had just happened sat heavy on my shoulders.
I’d told him the truth in that diner. Admitted that he was the only thing I remembered from performances, the only thing that cut through the fog of routine and repetition. I’d made myself vulnerable in a way I hadn’t done since Dylan, and what had it gotten me?
Nothing but ammunition for him to use against me.
But Ash wasn’t Dylan. Dylan had been gentle, patient, willing to wait for me to figure my shit out. Ash met me blow for blow, gave as good as he got, and refused to back down even when I tried my damnedest to drive him away.
So I’d meant to hurt him. I’d wanted to see that confident smirk crack, wanted him to feel as raw and exposed as I’d felt when I sent that stupid text at four in the morning. When I’d admitted he was all I could think about.
And he hadn’t even responded.
The memory of that burned worse than the anger. I’d been vulnerable, and he’d given me silence. So when Parker told me Ash had been redesigning my choreography without consulting me, something inside me had snapped clean through.
Three years. I’d spent three years building this. And Ash waltzed in and started rewriting everything like my work meant nothing.
Except that wasn’t fair, and I knew it.
Maybe if your choreography wasn’t stuck in 2022, I wouldn’t have to fix it.
I grabbed an old crate and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall with a satisfying crash that did nothing to ease the pressure in my chest.
The fight replayed itself frame by frame. The way Ash had grabbed my shirt, hauled me close. How his eyes had blazed with something that looked almost like hurt before the anger swallowed it whole.
What had I done to make him hate me this much?
I’d noticed that thought cross his face right before Riley intervened. Read it in his expression as clearly as if he’d spoken it aloud.
He didn’t know. He actually had no fucking idea.
The laugh that escaped me was bitter and sharp. How could he hate me when I’d been the one pushing him away? When I’d turned every interaction into competition because I was too much of a coward to admit I’d wanted him from the moment he walked into orientation?
I straightened, ran both hands through my hair.
Parker would probably fire us both. Riley was right about that. We’d made a scene in front of half the crew, and there was no walking that back. Jonas had seen everything, and Jonas didn’t keep secrets.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out expecting Parker’s name, but it was a message from Riley instead.
You good?
No. I wasn’t good. I was the furthest thing from good.
But I typed back anyway:
Yeah.
***
Dylan used to tell me I had control issues. That I needed to loosen up, let things happen, stop white-knuckling my way through every interaction. What he never understood was thatcontrol was all I had. When your dad takes off before you’re old enough to understand that he was a piece of shit, you learn quickly that the only person you can rely on is yourself. The only thing you can control is how much you let people in.
Which was why what happened at midnight made me want to put my fist through the wall.
I’d headed to the employee area for water during our scheduled break, my body still humming with leftover adrenaline from the last sequence. Then I heard voices. Ash’s laugh, low and genuine, and someone else’s. Male. Unfamiliar.
I rounded the corner, and my feet stopped working.
Ash was leaning against the wall, still in full costume, laughing at whatever the stranger had said. The guy was tall, built like he spent serious time at the gym and was wearing street clothes instead of a costume. A day crew friend, maybe. Or something more, especially given the way the stranger’s hand was on Ash’s arm.
Heat flooded my chest. Sharp, violent jealousy that made my teeth ache. I had no right to it. No claim on Ash beyond professional partnership, and even that was stretching the definition. But watching someone else make him smile like that made something feral wake up inside me.
