“I do,” I told her, widening my stance and pushing my shoulders back. “And you dance?”
“She does,” Aleste answered for Elodie, and I flicked my gaze to her. Her long, almost black hair was braided into two, and her pale face was covered in makeup. “You should see the way she dances.” Aleste sighed and placed her hand on her chest. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The emotion and the—”
“Okay, Aleste, he doesn’t want to know all of that,” Elodie cut her off, laughing. Her cheeks had reddened, and for some reason, the sight brought a smile to my face. Was she embarrassed over someone praising her?
“What?” Aleste asked, spinning around so fast she made me feel dizzy. “You just placed first in the competition! You need to celebrate.”
Elodie shrugged, her gaze meeting mine but then moving around the stores which lined the small street. “Doesn’t mean much, though,” she whispered. “It’s one of two, and you know the odds of getting a scholarship or job offer from attending two competitions are slim.”
“Slim, but not impossible,” Aleste told her, straightening her back. “You know I can help you enter more comp—”
“No.” Elodie shook her head, her stare meeting mine. This time she didn’t look away. This time she was communicating something to me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Had I heard something I shouldn’t have?
For the first time, I started to think about Elodie and not myself. I’d been so consumed with feeling fooled by her and her age, but I hadn’t once thought about why she was working at Pink Feather. It hadn’t occurred to me that there was a reason she was a high school student who felt the need to take her clothes off. I’d only thought about myself. The idea of being so selfish had my breath rush out of me.
“Don’t do that,” she spat, but I wasn’t sure whether she was talking to Aleste or me.
“You know I can help—”
“Don’t need or want handouts,” Elodie flung back as if she’d said the exact same thing a thousand times. A ringtone blasted through the air, and she lifted her cell up, stared at the screen, and huffed out a breath. “Can I leave my car here?”
There was a beat of silence, and then Aleste replied, “Sure.”
“I’ll come and get it later.”
“Okay,” Aleste whispered, and I turned to face her, seeing the sadness echoed in the features on her face. Aleste wanted to help Elodie. She’d wanted to say something, but Elodie had shut her down. Shut her out. And I was starting to understand how she ticked. She didn’t want nor need help. She did whatever she could for herself, and I found myself even more entranced with her.
Maybe I’d been too harsh with her? Maybe I’d overreacted. I opened my mouth, ready to tell her exactly that when a set of tires squealed to a stop a few feet away. My shoulders straightened, and I turned to face the newcomer, but I couldn’t see through the blacked-out windows. The SUV was high off the ground—almost as high as my truck—and the beats coming through the system blasted throughout the street.
“I have to go,” Elodie said, but her voice was different now. I’d never heard her talk like that. I’d listened to her voice when she was pissed, seductive, annoyed, nervous, but this…this was different, and it had the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end in warning.
She walked toward the SUV, but she had to move past me to get to the passenger door, and I couldn’t stop from reaching out to her. My fingers wrapped around her wrist, gentle but firm. She shivered at the touch and halted where she was in front of me. Her hair was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck, and I could see the soft-looking skin I craved to touch.
“Asher,” she whispered, but she didn’t turn to face me. It was as if she was bound not to look at me. “Let go.”
“Elodie,” I murmured her name, but I wasn’t sure what else to say. A thousand things entered my head, but I struggled to voice a single one of them.
“Please,” she begged, her shoulders drooping. “Not in front of him. Please.”
Him?
She pulled her wrist from my grip, and I let her go. I could have forced her to stay. Made her tell me what had changed between the time I got here to the time the car pulled up. But it wasn’t my place. I didn’t have a right to demand that of her, so instead, I watched her walk toward the SUV and pull the door open. All I got was a glimpse of the driver whose eyes were narrowed at me, and then Elodie got inside, slammed the door shut, and they were speeding away.
I stood there, watching the back of the SUV, not sure how I felt about the whole situation. Something was off.
“He’s not good for her,” Aleste whispered, and I felt her stand next to me. She sighed. “I wish she could see that.”
“Who was it?” I asked.
“Her boyfriend.”
Boyfriend? She had a boyfriend?
“Right,” I commented, shutting down everything I’d felt since the moment my gaze had set on her. It was another lie. A lie I shouldn’t have been surprised by. And it solidified in my mind that I had to stay away from her. Aleste was sure Elodie’s boyfriend wasn’t good for her, but I was almost certain Elodie wasn’t good for me. I’d had a lucky escape, and instead of wallowing, I should have been rejoicing.
So why did my chest fuckin’ ache? Why was the thought of someone else kissing her lips so goddamn aggravating? And why the hell couldn’t I get rid of the buzz I felt from touching her?
Chapter Eight