Page 163 of Dance of Defiance

I play dumb. “Yes?”

She looks significantly at her empty cocktail glass on the table in front of us, clearly wantingmeto go deal with the mob at the bar.

Which is categorically not happening.

“Ah, shit, babe.” I duck-pout right back at her. “Iwould, but I really wrenched my back when I was working a tough lift at the theater today.”

She’s instantly all smiles and cooed “aww babe”s as she wraps herself around my arm and looks up into my face with infatuation.

“It’s so sexy when you strain yourself dancing. Like you’re a real athlete or something!”

I AM a real athlete, cunt.

She grins at me and reaches up to boop my nose. “You stay here.I’llgo get us drinks, 'mkay?”

I just smile as she stands. She goes to kiss me, but I turn my head, letting her overly glossed lips brush my cheek instead.

“Oh!” Ashley turns to flash a much lower wattage smile at Brooklyn. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m good,” my friend says dryly to Ashley's already-receding back.

Brooklyn’s smile drops like a stone as she turns to glare at me.

“What?” I smile, playing innocent.

“Really?” Brooklyn grumbles.

“Aww, c’mon,” I grin. “Ashley’s a lovely?—”

“She’s not.”

I sigh. “Fine. She’s a toxic vampire. But fuck, that girl cansucka di?—”

“Ah-ah-ah.” Brooklyn’s face sours as she shakes her head quickly, holding a palm up. “Nope. Gonna stop you right there.”

I wink. “She doesn't have a gag reflex.”

“Jesus Christ,” Brooklyn groans, sliding her hands over her face and then glaring at me. “Seriously, gross.”

“Doesn’t believe in the wordnoin bed?—”

“VAL!!”

I chuckle when she smacks my arm. But there’s no real mirth in the laugh, just like there’s no real happiness behind the fake-ass smiles I’ve been plastering onto my face for the last three fucking weeks.

Since the alley.

Since I walked away from Roman for the last time.

A dark sourness curdles in my chest when I picture his face and hear his name in my head. I wish I could claim that it’s because his face and name bring up all kinds of negative emotions. But that’s not it.

It’s because I’ve spent three goddamn weeksnotsaying his name or seeing his fucking face.

I wish,Goddo I wish, he could be like other “over and done” relationships I’ve had. Every other time I’ve walked away from someone, I've gone and buried myself in excess and hedonism, fucking my way from one willing hole to the next until they were completely out of my system.

The best way to get over someone is to getundersomeone else, right?

Except this time, for some infuriating reason, I’m incapable of doing that.