It could save me.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
Wires were still crossed in my brain. “What?”
An incredulous smile warmed her lips. “My tattoo? You’re, uh, petting my arm.”
“Sorry.” I was finally able to pull away. “It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She straightened in her seat, her expression filled with longing. Like she wished I hadn’t stopped touching her. It was the same for me. Wait, no. I needed to put distance between us.
The server appeared with our dinners, and we stayed silent as the plates were set down. I stared at my burger, no longer hungry. How was I going to keep her from telling me?
“I don’t need to hear more,” I said as soon as the server departed. When her face twisted with hurt, I felt it sharply in my chest. Shit. I had to fix it. “What I mean is, thank you for being honest with me. I bet it wasn’t easy, and I appreciate it. But I . . . need time to absorb all this.”
“Oh,” she said, confusion running visibly through her. “Okay, but—”
“Does anything have to be decided right this second?”
“No, but I should—”
“Perfect. I’m starving,” I lied. “We can eat first. You said you wanted to get to know each other better. Let’s do that.”
She was submissive and liked when the other person was in charge. That was good. I liked taking the lead, and right now, I’d do my best to steer her away from revealing the whole truth.
I picked up my burger, readying to take a bite. “Tell me about the Dance Dreams audition.”
“Um . . .” She struggled to pivot that rapidly. “What do you want to know?”
“What do you get if you win?”
“The whole show? It’s a cash prize and a contract with a talent agency, but I won’t win. I’m too old, my turns aren’t good enough, and it’s a popular vote system. The audience is mostly women, so guys are more likely to win.”
“But if you can’t win, why do it? What’s the goal? Exposure?”
She nodded. “That, and to get to work with some amazing people. I really like choreographing, and I’d fucking love to see other people’s process.”
“What’s yours like?”
“My process?” Her eyes lit up, and internally I breathed a sigh of relief. I had her hooked now. “I used to be really structured. I’d write out the eight count sections and map the whole thing from start to finish, but lately I’ve been improvising. I put on the music and let it tell me how the piece should go.” She picked up her fork and speared a leaf of her Caesar salad. “That’s how I’d like to do it with you.”
I paused. “With me?”
“I can get rehearsal space at my friend Elena’s studio. Just let me know when your cello is fixed and what days and times work with your schedule.”
The audition seemed like a very bad idea now, but I didn’t want to leave her stranded. “I’m pretty busy. Can I send you a recording?”
“Sure.” She lifted a teasing eyebrow. “But my routine won’t be as good, and I thought you were a competitor.”
I was. And this girl was killing me.
I couldn’t have her. Not as a girlfriend, or a lover, or even as a friend. I didn’t scare easily, but I also wasn’t stupid. What would happen if Julius caught me? I didn’t want to find out.
“One session,” I said. “I’m usually done around two on the weekdays.” I’d be careful and make sure we stuck to the task at hand. As soon as it was over, I’d have no choice but to ghost her.
My curiosity ate at me, though. Did the couple she was with know she worked at the blindfold club? And if so, why was it okay for her to fuck strangers for money, but not me?
Because it’s about power.