She licked her lips as she set the glass down, and her blue eyes clouded with an emotion I didn’t understand. Apprehension?
“Story time. Like you, I was the black sheep of my family.” Her gaze fixed on me. “So, when I couldn’t fit in, I decided I’d stand out instead. If everyone was going to go right, I’d go left. It’s why I started dancing.”
I understood what she meant. I’d grown up in a different hemisphere, but so much of my life had been similar. There’d been fights I’d gotten into over stupid shit, all just to get noticed. To make sure my voice was heard.
Her mouth twisted into an ironic smile. “Joke was on me, though. A lot of the time ballet is about blending in, matching the people around you. Anyway, when I got to college, I met this girl.” Pink tinged her cheeks. Either she was embarrassed, or the wine was warming her up. “She was smart, and funny, and kind of bossy. Like, in a sexy way, and . . . it was confusing. I always tried to be unique, my own person, so I couldn’t tell if I was actually into her, or if it was just—I dunno, me trying to be into her. Because it was different, you know what I mean?”
“You thought it wasn’t real.”
She nodded. “Like, all the cool girls at the time said they were bi. They weren’t. They were just playing at it. For most of them, it wasn’t sexuality—it was a trend.”
There was a clatter of silverware at the table next to us, but I didn’t give it any attention. I only wanted to hear what she was going to say next.
“I didn’t act on it. I was afraid to go down that road if it wasn’t true. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, and I didn’t want to get hurt either.” Her posture changed as she kept talking. She relaxed, tension leaving her shoulders. “About three years ago, I auditioned for the Chicago Ballet Company. It was my third attempt. I told myself if I didn’t get accepted, that was it. I was done trying to be a professional dancer.”
Even though I knew how it was going to end, I still had hope that her story would go another way.
“After it was over, I went to some random bar to get shitfaced. I’d spent my whole life trying to be seen, but that night? I wanted to be fucking invisible. I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life, or who I was anymore.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but she lifted a hand, signaling she had more to say.
“This guy comes over, and suddenly I’m telling him my sob story, whining to him over the drink he bought me.” She looked amused. “Not unlike what I’m doing right now. So, we have this long conversation about everything. I told him I’d spent the last twelve years of my life doing what other people told me to do, moving how they wanted, and now without a director, I was lost. To a man like Joseph—that’s the guy’s name—hearing that was, like, the greatest thing ever.”
“What?” I scowled. “Why?”
She swallowed hard. “Because he’s a Dominant.” The word hung, suspended between us. Tara toyed with the napkin on the table, tracing the edges with her fingers, hinting at her nervousness. “You know what that means?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly.
I didn’t get into details with Ruby, but I knew she lived the lifestyle, and it was good for her. She had issues with her temper, and Kyle helped her keep it under control. McAsshole had a history with Ruby that made me wary of him, but his positive influence on her was undeniable.
“I’m submissive.” Tara declared it with ease. “After a month with him, it was clear I was bisexual. Girls, boys, I like them all . . . as long as they’re the ones in charge.”
Beneath the table, I balled my hand into a fist. The idea of her with another woman was so hot, I had to do something to distract from my basic instinct. This isn’t about you. Don’t make it about you.
I thought my reaction was good. I wanted her to feel comfortable, but I must have failed. Her breathing picked up, and her gaze darted away from mine, which made me just as nervous as she looked. Did she think I wasn’t cool with this? Because I was. It was brave that she’d told me.
“Tara, I think—”
“I’m in a relationship.” She spat it out like she’d been holding it back and it escaped by pure force.
I flinched, even though I’d heard her. “You mentioned that.”
“Right, but it’s an unusual one. That’s why I told you all this, and why I asked if you thought it was possible to be in a relationship that excludes emotion.”
I fought to process what she was saying, “You and this guy, it’s just a sexual relationship?”
“Not a guy. It’s a couple.”
A couple. Her and a guy and a girl. My curiosity kicked in, overriding everything else and I asked it genuinely. “How does that work?”
“They’re together and very much in love. I’m their third. I care about them, and they care about me, but it’s a respect thing, not emotional.”
I picked up my glass of wine and drank, not so much because I was thirsty, but so it would give me a chance to organize my thoughts.
“They’re my doms,” she continued. “Because of where I am in my life, I don’t date. I like what I have with them, and up until recently, I thought it was all I needed. But if the right person came along, I’d . . . well, things would change.”
Wait a minute. I set my wine down, but my fingers remained on the bell of the glass. “What are you saying?