Page 291 of Blackwood

The crowd cheers. Lex throws an arm around my neck, head leaning on my shoulder like a lazy drunk lion.

“Rico made their costumes,” Knox adds, “I mixed the music and trust me, it’s a whole production, man. But first, you know what time it is. Sit your little Latin birthday ass in this chair right here.”

Javi appears from the shadows, dragged into the spotlight by two football players, laughing and protesting the whole way.

“Get back out here, girls!” Knox yells.

Ellie struts out first, bouncing in skirt that’s a flirty swirl of bright yellow, glitter catching the lights with every step. Her top is a tiny yellow and orange sparkling crop that makes the crowd whistle and holler like they’ve already lost their minds.

Haley follows, hips swinging, skirt lime green, top hugging her in all the dangerous ways. Her smirk screams trouble. The green makes her red hair look even more unruly, like someone lit a match and dared the room not to stare.

Bella’s in hot pink and purple, Rico’s twisted idea of a birthday gift to every man in this room. Glittery mini so short it’s criminal, a tiny top that clings to every inch of her abs like it was sculpted there. Her long black hair is curled and wild, bouncing with each step like it knows how lethal she is. She’s color, mayhem, and sex appeal wrapped in sugar and steel. And she knows it. Hell, she owns it.

Lex groans beside me. “What the hell, she looks like the sexiest Barbie I’ve ever fucking seen.”

Knox grins like a game show host. “Ok Javi, this one’s from Ellie.”

The beat kicks in. Backstreet Boys mixed with some Britney Spears hits. It’s pure early 2000s fun. All bouncy, playful, andiconic. Ellie eats it up, flirty and sassy. Javi is singing along with an enormous grin on his face.

Rez walks off and cuts through the crowd. He walks right up to Knox, mid-performance. I squint.

“What’s he doing?”

Lex, arms still slung around my shoulders, snorts. “Who the fuck knows.”

The guys talk for a second. Rez says something low, Knox raises a brow and then lets out this laugh that practically screamsbad idea accepted. They do one of those bro handshake-high-five–pull-you-in things that’s way too choreographed for comfort.

Knox runs a hand through his hair, already hyped, muttering, “You’re a fucking menace, man,”like that’s a compliment. Rez just walks back toward us, smug as hell.

Lex stares at him. “What was that all about?”

Rez grins. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Lex’s jaw tightens. I feel it in the way his arm locks just a little tighter across my chest. The song ends. The crowd loses it. Javi is beaming, chest puffed like he just won coach of the millennium.

Knox grabs the mic again. “Alright, Javi! Happy damn birthday, you little legend. Now Bella, sweetheart, don’t go too far…”

Bella freezes mid-step, caught on her way backstage. She turns slowly, eyes narrowing.

Knox keeps going. “You’ve got a request. One of our guests wants a dance and I couldn’t say no.”

Lex’s whole body tenses beside me. “No the fuck he didn’t.”

Rez steps back into the light, all swagger and smug satisfaction. Bella blinks, caught off guard. He leans in, mouth close to her ear, and whispers something to her. Whatever he says pulls a real laugh from her, bright and unguarded.

Knox waves them into place. “Alright you two, don’t make me regret this…Danza Kuduro, let’s go!”

The beat slams through the Catacombs. Bella and Rez move like they’ve done this a thousand times. All hips, hands, tight turns and locked eyes. Latin dance with a street edge. She dips, he spins her. She rolls her hips, he mirrors it move for move.

“He can dance?” I ask, stunned.

Lex groans. “Yeah. His mom was big in ballroom back in Moscow. Fucking unfair.”

I nod slowly, watching Bella absolutely own it. “Yeah, but that? That’s not rehearsed.”

“Nope. That’s pure improv. Fucking Rez and our girl, damn.”

Rez drags his hands down her arms, their bodies brushing too close. She’s grinning, flushed, and glowing. That kind of happy that only happens when she’s in her element. The music pulses into a rapid cha-cha, hips locking and snapping, feet moving in sharp, flirtatious sync. It’s fast, hot, full of turns and playful tension, every beat matched with a flick of her wrist or a dip that nearly sends her to the floor.