Page 327 of Blackwood

Nationals Day 2 - Dallas, Texas

71 Days Since Daddy’s Death

The final notes ofPillowtalkfade into a wall of sound, the crowd exploding as if we just ripped the stage in half. Josh’s hand slides around my waist and he spins me one last time with a grin that’s all teeth and triumph. My body’s still humming, chest rising and falling with adrenaline, heart slamming like the bass line still hasn’t stopped.

We did it. Every beat landed. Every touch, every breathy grind and whispered hip flick, we didn’t just dance it. We devoured it.

Which is why we always save the best dances for day two. Because day two is when the bodies are tired, the routines blur, and the judges start forgetting who’s who. That’s when you hit them with a set that grabs them by the throat and doesn’t let go. That’s when you bring fire.

Josh and I book it off the floor, lungs heaving, laughing like idiots as the stage doors close behind us. I practically collapse into him for a second, both of us slick with sweat, buzzing from the high.

Josh shakes his head, beaming. “That,” he pants, “was nasty. In the best possible way.”

I nod, still catching my breath.

He groans dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m scared to walk back out there. Your Russian’s gonna kill me.”

I grab a towel from the rack and wipe the sweat from my chest. “Please. Lex knows this is all fake. He’s seen us practice that grind in the mirror like fifty times.”

Josh grins. “Yeah, fifty times, five hundred times, he still looks at me like he wants to run me over with his motorcycle.”

I toss the towel at his head. “Shut up.”

He ducks it, then sobers just slightly. “But for real, he good? You good?”

I glance up at him. “Yeah. I mean, he’s probably going to corner you later and say something vaguely threatening in Russian, but yeah. We’re good.”

Josh exhales, pushing a hand through his sweaty hair. “Okay. I just… wanted to check. I know things are different now. You’ve got your guys. And I’m not trying to overstep.”

“Things are different,” I say, softer this time. “But not with you, J. You’ve always been my constant. My partner. My friend. Nothing about this, any of this, changes that.”

His shoulders drop, tension bleeding out. “Good. Because honestly, you’re the only one who can handle my dramatic ass.”

“Right? As if anyone else would let you add that extra body roll mid-routine.”

He laughs. “What can I say? The people deserve flair.”

I bump him gently with my shoulder. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

He stares at me for just a few seconds too long.

“What?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I haven’t seen you this happy in… well, ever. You weren’t like this with Wes.”

Something shifts in my chest.

“You must really love them,” he adds, voice quieter now. “Lex and Cade. Both.”

I pause, fingers curling around the edge of the water bottle I’d just grabbed. “Yeah. I do.”

Josh smiles, genuine and proud. “Good. You deserve that kind of love after all the shit you’ve been through.”

“Thanks, J.”

He slings an arm around my shoulder again. “Now let’s go cool off before your Hollow King puts me in a headlock.”

We practically crash into Coach Javi. “¡Dios mío!” he breathes, pressing both hands to his heart like I just proposed. “That was sex on stage. Pure sex. That is how you open day two.”