12. Twelve
Twelve
Sara
My entire bedroom is already prepped for a version of myself I should approach with caution, I press play on “Keep On Boogin’” by Enlly, and my feet dance of their own accord. My body sways to the lyrics, feeling every beat.
Nearby, my dress hangs waiting for its cue that I have yet to act on, though the decision has finally settled.
I saw this girl in me the other night, in Tyler's mirror; her eyes darker than I remembered, cheeks flushed with something between shame, desire and ownership. Flicking the small vanity lamp, the midnight-blue velvet of the dress on the bed turns into liquid shadow. The little devil on my shoulder has found a partner in mischief, and I’ll fight Liam back.
I slide the dress on and my heels. When I catch myself in the mirror, I feel stronger, wiser, and tamed by my heartbreak. Tonight, I’m walking straight into the fire, and I won’t let Liam stalk me in the night's depths to scare me.
The line outside Gayo club curls down the street, facing the dormant parked yachts right across, each their own secret party. As I enter the club, a restless coil of heels, perfume, and cigarette smoke envelops me when I see my girls waving.
“Sara!” Anne yells out, standing next to Artemis and Mimi, already laughing, glitter flashing in the neon spill from the club’s sign. They rush to me, arms tight around my shoulders.
“Hi!” I say excitedly.
“Holy shit,” Artemis gasps, stepping back to drink me in. Her eyes flick down my midnight velvet slit, the bare curve of my back. “Wow!”
I smile, taking steps toward the dance floor. Ready to lose myself in the music.
Gayo isn’t just a club…it’s a cathedral of temptation.
The walls are alive with carvings of Shiva and Buddha, their faces serene yet watching, lit by the flicker of candle-glow hidden in crystal sconces. Black and white stone sprawls across the floor in hypnotic patterns, each step a pilgrimage deeper into the night.
Above, chandeliers drip light like molten diamonds, swaying enough to scatter shadows across velvet-black booths.
The air hums with incense laced into the heat of sprayed champagne, a strange, unholy perfume that clings to the skin.
It feels sacred. It feels sinful. It seems as though every pulse of the bass dares to surrender to a sin while thanking a god. Quite the paradox.
We sit at the booth, where a silver ice bucket filled with vodka waits for us on the table. Artemis lifts a bottle and drains it right into her mouth. Savage.
The DJ drops “Simon Says from Pharoahe Monch” and the entire club explodes. The bass slams, rolling through the floor with each beat, shaking the air like Godzilla is lurking somewhere in the smoke, walking through the walls.
“This is our song!” Artemis screams over the music, already rolling her hips, her long hair flying.
Bodies surge in rhythm, wild and unrestrained. Artemis shrieks with laughter, grabs my hand, and yanks me into the crush of the dance floor. The sound is filthy, commanding, a trance that gets under your skin until you can’t tell if you’re dancing or being devoured by it.
Then I see him, Liam.
My body slows down, and I try to steady my breathing.
A monster standing there. Half in shadow, leaning against the far side of the bar, a glass of something amber in his hand.
Dark shirt rolled at the sleeves, tattoos trailing up strong, veiny forearms, his gaze tracking the room like he’s calculating with predatory eyes to which, with the cruelest trick of fate, have landed on me.
He slowly and deliberately drags his stare down my body, as if he is deciding whether to drag me out of here or strip me bare on the spot? It’s hard to tell. But what I know for sure underneath that,
Hate.
Thick, unspoken, coiling hate in the air like smoke. He hates hating me, and I want to give him more reasons to, assuring he’d leave me alone once and for all.
Even though the urge to spit in his face burns as hot as the disgust in his eyes, the thought makes my thighs press together.
I want to draw him forward and be the jagged nail caught at the bottom of his shoe and reclaim myself.
My instinct is to turn and walk away from the dance floor, but my lips curve in something dangerously close to a dare because it seems Liam doesn’t approve of this.
Shocker. What’s also shocking is that I’m done letting him push me around.
Tyler, did he touch you?
My phone is suddenly in my hand, screen lighting my face as I type out the message before I can think better of it:
Here. Now.
Location sent.
Tyler would come.
Liam would watch.
And me? I’d stand in the middle of them both.
My fingertips graze my collarbone, lingering at the curve of my breast where sweat gathers like morning dew, then slide upward to tangle in my hair.
I pull the damp strands away from my neck, exposing skin.
My spine arches just enough for him to imagine every inch of my skin I’d never let him touch.
I want to tempt him with what he despises and have him choke on his own breath.
Though I can’t be certain of my hold over him, one suspicion crystallizes:
If he truly wanted to hurt me, he would have done so already.
I pretend I don’t see him move, that I don’t feel the crowd part for him. My heartbeat quickens, and by the time I glance back, he is too close.
“Enjoying yourself?” His voice is low enough to make my stomach clench.
I smile slowly, feeling my rapid breathing taking over and dragging my fingertip up my lip.
“I was until you showed up.”
His jaw tightens. I am a bullet he can’t decide whether to load.
And what’s more dangerous than a bullet? A woman who’s done crying. I am done crying.
My phone buzzes.
Tyler: Here.
Perfect.
When I glance over my shoulder again, he’s gone. A millisecond of disappointment rushes through me; a sliver of a delusion that I ever believed I had him in any kind of net vanishes.
And then I gasp. In front of me, in my space… No, into me, is his wide chest pressed forcefully against mine, a furnace of heat scorching through my dress. His breath cuts across my neck, filling the air with a heady mix of aftershave and masculine musk that makes my heart hammer.
His hand, heavy and sure, rests low on my hip, right at the point where velvet meets my skin.
I look up at him, slowly, knowing I’ll find something raw, a cold beauty and that’s exactly what I find when his eyes meet mine.
Trepidation courses through me, but I also can’t help but wonder if there is any part of Joe in him.
The part I long to get back, that every pulse in my body begs for.
“Dangerous play of cards, Sara. You know why?” he asks, his fingers digging into my skin.
“Why?” I murmur, a little too breathlessly.
“Because you’re lying. The way you’re breathing hard against me, you enjoy fearing me, and you should.” He almost coaxes me with his words.
The rough stubble from his jaw grazes my skin, sending shivers skittering down my ribcage.
I make the mistake of leaning more into him, to feel the full length of his body against mine, and my breath hitches when I say, “Thought you liked dangerous.”
His grip tightens, fingers brushing the inside of my thigh through the slit. So close between my legs; I almost forget Tyler is here, and as he inches closer; I almost forget my name.
“You shouldn’t spark curiosity.” He growls, his voice low under the music, and I tremble at the realization of what I might have done, luring a monster into my yard. A monster that I seem to affect.
“What kind of curiosity?” I say sensually, moving my body against his.
“The kind where I take what I want without giving a fuck.” His hand slips lower, daring to trace over the swell of my ass beneath the thin fabric, a bold move that sends adrenaline pumping wild through my veins.
“You think I’d let you?” I tease in his ear, playing with fire.
“Sara, you’re not dancing with the kind of devil that will let you believe you’ve lucked out. I don’t need your approval.”
I smile wickedly because he’s not scaring me.
“One day… you’re going to push too far,” he says in my ear.
How far are we talking about exactly? I think I have a bit of a death wish.
I turn my head, my lips softly brushing his jaw as I whisper, “Good,” with a finality that would drain the last drops of H?O just to keep him thirsty.
I push myself off his body and walk away from his hold, leaving him there, speechless with his boiling anger scorching my every move. The crowd consumes me as Tyler’s shadow slides into the club from the other corner of my eye.
When he finds me, his arm loops around my waist with that same casual claim, which makes me freeze inside because I was teetering toward the idea that I should not push Liam too far, but, oh well. Oops?
Tyler leans in, his breath hot against my ear. I flinch, my shoulders tensing as his lips brush my skin.
“You look…” He gives a low whistle, eyes skimming down the slit of my dress. “Gorgeous.”
I smile in response as I spot Liam leaning against the far dark corner, next to a Shiva-encrusted wall, soft lights cast a dim ambiance on his face, but nothing about him exudes a gentle atmosphere at the sight of Tyler kissing my temple.
Hands in his pockets, head tilted in a way that feel both lazy and lethal, I’m angry with myself for feeling deserted when I walked away from him.
I don’t like that I want to push the buttons he is putting on display for me to see which one paints the room red.
“Excuse me, I have to—” I mumble, trying to get past Tyler, but he pulls me in closer and I can feel Liam’s lurk burning me from the inside out.
Tyler’s laugh is warm against my neck, and I smile at Liam, letting him see every flicker of provocation in my eyes while hiding the absolute destructive pain I have in my chest. I’d never let him know how broken I truly am.