Page 1 of Perfect Rhythm

NYX

I hate the fucking internet.

I stared at my phone, trying to act unbothered by how close someone’s zoomed in video made it look like I was to my boss’s dick.

“Is someone getting hot and bothered over there?” Skye said with a grin as she peeked over her shoulder.

“What? No.” I closed out the video and dropped my phone on the table. “Why would I be bothered by something I’ve done damn near every night for the last three months?”

“Girl, bye. You may have danced on Shade’s fine ass every night, but not like you did tonight.

” She returned her attention to the mirror that was mounted on the hotel door.

“I don’t know if you decided to show out because it’s your birthday or because it was the last night of the tour.

Either way, you worked the hell out of that stage, and you definitely worked the hell out of him. ”

Leaning back, I slid my fingers through my sleek ponytail. “I just wanted to make sure the last show was great for the fans.”

“And for him too, huh?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start, Skye.”

“What? I’m just stating the facts. You should have seen the way he was looking at you tonight. He was definitely giving you the I want to fuck you eyes.”

“Yeah, me and every other dancer on the stage. That’s the whole point.”

“Nah, girl. Trust me, Shade’s not looking at any other dancer the way he looks at you.”

Laughing, I shook my head.

Like always, my best friend was conjuring up an imaginary love story about me and our boss.

It didn’t matter how many times I told her she was delusional.

In her mind, she was convinced that the chemistry Shade and I had on stage was meant to be explored off stage too.

But that wasn’t happening. I took my job as a professional dancer seriously, which meant I couldn’t afford to mess around with any artist I was working for.

I’d spent the last eight years making a name for myself, and it came with a lot of respect.

No man in the music industry could say he’d been close to me outside of the dance floor, and I intended to keep it that way.

I didn’t give a damn how fine he was … and Shade was definitely fine .

“Let’s go before we get left,” I told Skye as I met her in front of the mirror. “I’m trying to have a good time and get drunk as hell tonight.”

“Mmhmm, I hear you.”

“Whatever.” I stepped forward, assessing my birthday outfit.

My black fitted t-shirt was hugging me just right, along with my matching biker shorts.

“Girl, when are you going to let me borrow those boots?” Skye asked as she poked me in the thigh.

“Never. You know damn well you can’t fit these. These babies are meant for big thighs only,” I teased.

“Shit, my thighs are big too.” She twirled around, showing off her slim thick frame.

I couldn’t lie, my girl was gorgeous from head to toe. But, unlike me, she was tall with long legs, and skin that glowed like honey. Without even trying, she gave off model vibes. But she hated the comparison since she knew several, and most of them were snobs.

“Yeah, but not like mine. One wrong move, and these things will be rolling down to your ankles.”

She laughed. “Whatever. Let’s get out of here.”

I grabbed my purse from the dresser, slid the chained strap over my shoulder, and followed her out of the room.

It didn’t take long for us to make it downstairs and onto the luxury bus with the other dancers. Well, some of them. Not every dancer was into hanging out after a show. Some would rather order food and just chill for the night, which was exactly what I would’ve been doing if it wasn’t my birthday.

“Shake that ass,” Skye shouted with the music as I twerked in the middle of the bus. “You better clown tonight. You only turn twenty-six once.”

I laughed. “You only turn any age once, crazy.”

“Yeah, well, twenty-six is special.”

She said that shit every year, and every year, I went along with it.

Skye turned up the music, and the rest of the dancers crowded around me to cheer me on. If this was any indication of how the rest of my night was going to go, I was looking forward to every second.

When we pulled up to the club, the parking lot was packed, and the line was wrapped around the building. But that didn’t come as much of a surprise since it had been announced that Shade would be making an appearance on his last night in Baymont Hill.

“Holy shit,” Skye shouted as she yanked me off the bus and pointed to a massive sign above the club. “Did this man really buy an entire billboard to wish your ass a happy birthday?”

I slammed my hand against my mouth, staring at the larger than life sign that lit up the skyline with bold, vibrant colors.

In the center was a photo of me caught mid-spin, arms flung out, and my wavy hair flying in the wind.

I was dancing blissfully, lost in the moment.

Surrounding the image were bright, playful graphics and a bold message that said: Happy birthday, Nyx. Much love. Shade and The Crew.

“I’m speechless,” I whispered.

“Mmhmm, I bet.” Skye smacked her lips together. “We’ve celebrated a lot of birthdays on this tour. I don’t remember anyone else getting a whole fucking billboard with their face on it.”

“Whatever.” I waved her off and started walking toward the club, then I stopped. “Hold up, I remember that photo. You took it while we were dancing at that rooftop party we crashed last year. How did he even get that?”

“I gave it to him. But I thought he wanted to put it on a cake or something.”

The low rumble of an engine caught my attention.

I looked over my shoulder, my eyes landing on a black SUV parking near the curb. It was sleek, tinted, and purring low with the kind of quiet power that made people look twice.

The driver hurried around to the back door on the passenger’s side and pulled it open.

Shade stepped out, his tall and broad-shouldered bodyguard standing next to him.

The crowd went wild, and camera lights started flashing from every direction.

I watched in awe, taking in every inch of him. His dark brown skin glowed under the streetlights, highlighting his ink-covered neck. He was wearing a black varsity-style jacket, a black tee that hugged his massive chest, and dark jeans.

It seemed simple. But on him, it screamed, for fine niggas only .

I turned away when I saw him lower his shades.

I didn’t see his eyes land on me, but from the way the small hairs on the back of my neck stood up, I was convinced they had.

Then came the scent. It was fresh and smooth with the faintest trace of smoked wood. It wrapped around me gently, a scent that only he wore.

My breath caught, and then a low voice brushed my ear.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered.

The words slid over me like silk, making my skin tickle.

Then, he was gone.