Page 51 of City of Salvation
“The only thing better than this would be if you were, like, building me some furniture or some shit.” The words were out before I could think better of them. The man didn’t even flinch. Instead, he looked over his shoulder and yelled out the next line of lyrics while winking and throwing his head back, sending his hair flying everywhere.
“I’m glad you’re up. It’s so hard not listening to this song on full blast.” He pressed the side of his phone, making the room flood with music. “Let me educate you on one of thebest bands, The Story So Far,” he shouted while air drumming like a damn pro. I couldn’t help but smile at the way he yelled every word with passion.
Does he actually know how to play the drums?
Why the fuck did I even want to know anything about him? First, it was the drink flavor. Now, it was whether his impersonation of the not-so-little drummer boy was him making shit up, or carefully- practiced skills.
I forgot how to breathe when he turned and fully faced me. Thank god he was so into the concert he was putting on — he didn’t notice the way I eye-fucked him from head to toe.
I am no better than a man.
His front was as heavily inked as his back, and the silver bars running through both nipples had me shifting where I was propped against the breakfast bar. I was going to need to change my underwear ASAP. He pushed his damp hair back with one of his massive hands, and the smile he sent my way nearly sent me into cardiac arrest, it was so blinding and unguarded.
The music dipped to a level that allowed us to hold a conversation without needing to be inches apart and shouting. Part of me wanted him to keep going so I could just bask in the happiness he radiated when he was bouncing around like he was at an actual show.
“Sorry. Music helps me process shit. Without it, I’d probably be in a grave somewhere,” he said with a laugh, but I heard the truth in his words.
“‘Only If For A Night.’”1The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and instantly, blood pounded in my ears.
His brows pinched. “If only for what night?” he asked, confused.
I moved around into the kitchen, hopping up on the fauxgranite counter and staring down at my cuticles as if they owed me money or something. “‘Only If For A Night.’ That’s the song I play on full blast while I sit on the floor of my shower, wondering if anyone’s ever drowned under that stream,” I said, trailing off, unsure of why I was even sharing this with him.
It was the first vulnerable thing I’d shared with anyone in years.
The last time I did vulnerability by choice was with Andrei, and that shit ended horribly. Who the fuck knew why I was doing it again now. But it seemed that now I’d started, there was no stuffing it back in the bottle. “And then ‘Shake It Out’ would play next to remind me that maybe I didn’t want to drown,” I whispered.
Warmth radiated against my shins as he stepped closer, tilting my chin with his finger until I met his hazel eyes. They were more brown than green today.
“In the pitch black?” he asked.
My breath caught in my throat at his question. In truth, it was more of a statement, but how had he known that? Words failed to form on my tongue, and all I could give him was the slight nodding of my head.
“Alexa, play ‘ What the Water Gave Me’1by Florence + The Machine,” he called out, never breaking the contact of his gaze or his body. Melodic tones filled the kitchen, and my eyes fluttered shut.
I felt like a live wire.
Too sensitive to all that was around me.
“You can dance if you’d like.” His hot breath brushed across my face from where he still stood. Like a boulder in a raging river, his presence anchored me as every emotion I kept locked up tight burst free.
My feet carried me to the living room as if I were beingcontrolled by someone else—something else. I let the hauntingly beautiful lyrics flow through me as my body painted the picture of my grief, my insanity, my joy, my dreams.
A manifestation of my soul.
I danced barefoot in an apartment that wasn’t mine with a man who didn’t know my god-given name, but who seemed to see more of me than anyone ever had.
I didn’t know where he was, but I could feel the heat of his attention on me as I moved into an arabesque. The only thing that would make this better would be if I had a pair of pointe shoes and a pole.
Time seemed to go on forever while simultaneously feeling like the blink of an eye. When I finally stopped moving, my chest was heaving, sweat pouring off me, and my muscles ached in a delicious way that was familiar but forgotten.
“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Dex’s deep voice startled me, and a small grin played on his lips when I looked over my shoulder at him. “You forgot I was here,” he said, sounding pleased, maybe because I’d felt comfortable enough to let go the way I had.
“Thought alcohol was supposed to cause you to let your barriers down. Not the hangover,” I mumbled, hugging myself in an attempt not to feel soexposed.I needed to rebuild some of my walls. I’d shared more with that dance than I had with anyone since moving to the United States.
Ryan and the girls assumed I was good at dancing by sheer talent. None of them had witnessed what I’d just done for Dex, or knew that I had classical training. Of course, Katya would have called what I’d just performed a bastardization of ballet.
The thought had me laughing while wrestling with the mourning of the woman I’d never gotten to become.