Yield

23. Max

The stars are always the same. No matter how I feel, I can look up and they remind me that it doesn’t matter where I’m at. They’ll always be waiting for me when I lay on my back in a field…or the middle of a road.

“This seems kinda dangerous.” Cole steps over top of me, blocking my view. His long-sleeved shirt adheres tight to his chest in the wind’s rage.

“What’s dangerous is where you’re standing. Come on, Cole. I’m trying to breathe.”

“I know your GPA is higher than mine, but I’m positive that you breathe with your lungs and it has nothing to do with what your eyes are doing.” The audacity to dish logic when I’m feeling inspired.

“You can have my GPA. I’m not going to college.”

Cole crouches down next to me. “I thought you would run out of this town with the opportunity.” He holds a hand out in front of his chest, waiting for me to take it. When I do, he pulls me to his chest, sending chills down my spine and a flutter in my stomach.

“People are more important than places.”

“You’re staying because of me?”

An uneasy smile takes my lips. I don’t want to leave him. Living without him for twenty minutes feels like two days. “And Amber…Lauren…Andy…the people that are my family.”

“You can leave without losing us. Just because Lauren’s going to med school and Amber — what’s she doing?”

“Cosmetology,” I answer, sitting up.

He looks up and down the road, draping his arm around my shoulders. “Can we get off the road?”

I sigh, standing to my feet. “I’m scared.”

“Yeah, that’s why we should get off the road.”

“You’re stupid.” I shove him away. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He pulls me right back in. I walk with him through the field to the break between a section of trees. He smells like the garage. His signature two-stroke scent. A mixture of oil, gasoline, and exhaust fumes are embedded into his Dickies. He’ll make it to the top of the two-fifty class in no time. Everyone seems to know what they’re doing and I’m afraid to take the next step.

His fingers circle my arms, as he pulls me to face him and lowers to my eye level. “You’re strong, Max.”

“I can’t leave.”

“I’m going to help you,” he insists. “Apply to the damn art school.”

Chewing at the corner of my mouth, I look up at the stars and smile. “Okay,” I softly reply and nod, agreeing for the time being.

“Good. The guys are taking their trucks out tonight. You ready for a wild ride?”

“Always,” I sing.

“Afraid to move a few hours away, but cool with getting in a truck to do sketchy back road driving with a bunch of hellions.”

“It’s a different kind of scary.” The kinda that is exciting yet feels safe because someone I trust has my back. If I fall, it’s his chest that breaks my crash landing.

It’s a different kind of scary meeting Ryke’s family. I admit it, okay? I have one foot in the door and the other on a highway. Why did I tell him this was fine? I’d love to meet his family.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I greet Hana, Ryke’s beautiful mother. She looks too young to have a twenty-six-year-old son…or sons, I guess. Her long hair is pinned on each side of her lightly made-up face. Does she always dress to impress?

“We hug in this house,” she replies, reaching out for me. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, I thought he was making it up.” Raiden, I presume, stands in the doorway of what is… the kitchen?

I briefly scan the wide living room. Genuine wood flooring and lived-in microfiber furniture fill the space. A large flatscreen hangs above the fireplace and it smells amazing in here. Like…cookies? My attention quickly turns back to Raiden. His stature is shorter than Ryke’s. Maybe it’s just his slouch.

“Made up having a girlfriend?” I ask in surprise.

“Ryke never brings young ladies home,” Hana adds.

Oh. I’m special. I’m not sure if I like that or am concerned. It feels good to be that important to him…and at the same time…I don’t like the seriousness it implies.

“Hello.” A tall shaggy-haired man waves from behind Ryke’s brother. That must be Ian, his dad. “I hope you’re hungry.” He nudges the dusty brown hair from his forehead with his forearm.

“Starving.” I smile, clenching my hands together. “I made sure to arrive on an empty stomach because if Ryke’s a good cook, I can only imagine his parents’ cooking.”

Hana’s eyes widen in curiosity. “Do you enjoy cooking, Maxine?”

“Call me Max, please, and no.” I giggle. “It’s not my favorite thing to do.”

“Me either. I’d rather eat it,” Raiden agrees.

“And do the dishes,” Ian yells from the kitchen. I smile as they laugh among themselves and Ryke’s hand takes the low of my back. “We have a rule. You either cook or you clean, but everybody eats. What nobody told me…when you move out on your own, you have to do both.”

“It’s a given, Ryke.” Ian pops in the doorway again with a lavender towel, drying his hands. Then quickly moves along, doing whatever it is he’s doing in there. Not cleaning.

“I don’t mind the clean-up.”

“That’s why you brought her home! Ryke’s going to lock the cleaning lady down.” Please tell me Raiden is not nicknaming me the cleaning lady. I can work with this though.

“The cooking guy and the cleaning lady have a ring to it,“ I shrug.

“And she’s a funny one,” he acknowledges, crossing his arms over his steel-toned, pocketed tee.

“Please, have a seat. Dinner should be ready in about…” She looks at Raiden. “Ten? Ten minutes?” She nods. “That’s one of our traditions, you could say. We always make dinner time, family time. Do you do anything similar with your family?”

I follow her to the sofa, where she sits on one side of the L, and Ryke and I get comfortable in the center. Tucking my feet up, I lean against him and sink into the navy cushion.

“My parents passed away when I was thirteen…”

She holds her hand over her chest as if she feels the pain in my words. I didn’t think it still lingered after all these years, but every time I say that sentence out loud, someone clutches their pearls and wants to apologize.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. A family friend took me in, essentially. I lived with them till I was around twenty-two.” I tilt my hand, speaking in gesture. “But it wasn’t until recently that I moved away from them.”

A warmth takes her blissful smile, the same way it takes mine when I’m vibing to a good song. “That’s a beautiful gift. How far away are they now?”

“About three and a half hours. I’m from Virginia originally.” Ryke didn’t tell them much about me. I appreciate it more than he knows…letting me control my narrative. It’s his nature to be vague, I see.

“Oh, yes, that’s a bit of a drive. I’m sure you miss them.” Her lips softly purse.

“We had a…little bit of a falling out. But yeah, I do miss home and my daughter.”

“Oh, you have a daughter?” Her eyes widen and she nods.

“Yep. Riley.” Talking about her makes me smile, every time. “She’s four.”

“Where are the pictures?” She coos. “I know you have pictures to share.” She leans forward and I pull my phone out. I unlock it and hold it up so she can see the home screen. Ri sitting on a red quad.

“My goodness, she’s a beauty queen. She has a lot of your features.”

“She’s more rough and tumble than beauty queen. She does great on her four-wheeler. Takes after her dad. A little daredevil.”

“You’re on good terms?”

“Mom,” Ryke grimaces.

“Too much? Sorry, dear. I tend to overstep my boundaries.”

Luckily for her, I’m familiar with overbearing mother figures.

“It’s okay. Things are a little rocky right now. I deal more with his parents than him, although his mom isn’t much better. It’s complicated.”

“Mm.” She nods again. “Ryke said you design websites?”

“Yes. I’m a graphic designer. I work on a variety of projects and now I run social media for Rave.” I grin, glancing at Ryke who suddenly seems stiff.

“Oh, what’s Rave?” She asks.

Shit.I ratted him out.

My grin turns into bared teeth and I try to read the room. Raiden has a goofy smile on his face like he’s been waiting for this day. I stay flat, working on a cover-up that’s not completely a lie.

“Um…It’s a new club in Raleigh,” I continue.

“That would explain it. I’m not much of the clubbing type these days.” She laughs.

Raiden sits on the loveseat across from us. “Ryke could fill you in. He’s pretty familiar.” His placid demeanor is unreadable. The brothers exchange scarcely noticeable glares.

“If you enjoy dancing, of course, club all you want.” She waves her hand, unphased.

I laugh, bowing my head. “Ryke doesn’t dance,” I mutter, not helping the situation.

“I’m taking you dancing tonight, remember?” He presses his thumb to the ravine under my chin, tilting my head back.

“Yeah, but will you actually be dancing or just hanging out?” I sass.

“Oh, I see,” Hana says. “You go clubbing to hang out with your friends. That’s something I would do, too. Good company makes everything enjoyable.”

“I don’t go clubbing.” He clears his throat. “I own Rave.”

“You bought a club…” Her casual nods are slightly terrifying. “And didn’t want to share that news?” She blinks away as if to ponder a thought before speaking. “I would love to support you and stop in for a celebratory drink. Do you have wine? You know I’m not much of a liquor drinker. The occasional wine will suffice.”

“I don’t think you want to go to Ryke’s club, Mom,” Raiden contends, fully entertained.

“I’ve been to clubs and bars, Raiden. I’m forty-six not one-hundred and forty-six.”

“Mom, it’s an adult club,” he says confidently.

Her mouth drops, and she slowly turns toward Ryke. “You bought a strip club?” Her lips are pursed yet still gaped and her eyes are cold. She’s disagreeing with the decision without anything more than a steady tone and stony expression.

“No.” His eyes pan across the room. “It’s a woman’s fantasy show. Performers do different erotic-like skits and shower women with attention.”

“Okay…” She slowly nods more, once again in the silent state of choosing her words wisely. “I can see why you would refrain from telling me. I’m supportive of what you want to do. Keep in mind what type of business this is and the risks it may impose on your day job.”

“This is my only job,” Ryke admits. “I don’t work on rigs anymore. Mom, it’s not something I took lightly. I put a lot of thought into it and a lot of planning. I’m doing well.”

“I see…Were you afraid to tell me about it?”

His jaw hangs, then closes, and finally, he speaks. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.” His heart rate picks up enough that I can feel it against my back.

“If this is what makes you happy and supports you financially, I understand. I don’t think I’ll stop in for a drink anytime soon, though.”

He wanted her approval like Cole desperately wants his mom’s acknowledgment. Do we all want this? Secretly, deep down somewhere…we all want our parents to say they support us and are proud of us, no matter our age? Or do I only attract broken momma’s boys?

He smiles with an idea. “I can give you a tour when we’re closed.”

“I’d like that.” A velvety smile takes her naked lips.

“Dinner is served,” Ian announces.

“Ian, the treehouse y’all built is amazing.”

I push the noodles around on my plate, scooping them up on my fork.

“You took her to the treehouse? Why don’t you propose now?” The corner of Raiden’s lip curls and he takes another bite.

“Because she’s married.” His low grumbles are heard by everyone. “I…” He realizes what has come out of his mouth too late. Oh, okay. I let something out and now he has. It wasn’t vicious. It couldn’t be.

I work up a smile and nervously laugh. “It’s a long story. Um, if you would excuse me.” I point. “Restroom.” I stand up and find my way to the living room as it dawns on me that I have no idea where the bathroom is. I need a minute or ten to collect myself.

I take off, expelling out of the front door. Unsure of where to go, I sit on the steps and bury my face in my arms.

Yes, I’m the still-married woman dating your perfect son with his perfect family. As if life isn’t hard already, I keep beating myself up. I don’t want to feel how Ryke makes me feel anymore. I’d rather be numb, staring at the stars in a field, avoiding the crossroads.

Ryke wraps his arm around me. My chest tightens in a mixture of his touch and his presence. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Your parents think I’m a train wreck.” Shame flushes my cheeks. “I don’t know why it bothers me. I guess because I think they’re right.” I squeeze my balled fists in frustration. I’ve been here before…a long time ago. After Colleen found out I was dating Cole, I wanted her approval fiercely and pummeled myself for any rough patch I allowed to present itself. It was brief. I quickly realized Colleen would never be my mother and she’s the only woman I wanted to impress. I don’t want to digress.

“They do not think that.” He rubs my shoulder. “I didn’t mean it in the way it came out…Hey.” He tilts forward, pulling strands of hair from my face in an attempt to get me to look at him. “It’s fun Ryke. I don’t do fights. Forgive me and go get dessert.”

I sigh. “What’s for dessert?”

“Raiden made cookies.“ His eyes widen and he sucks his lips in. “Matcha and a batch of um… peanut butter.” He swallows. “He can bake a mean cookie. Do you know how badly I wanted to convince my mom that I owned a titty bar?” His laughter lightens my mood.

“Now I’m mad at you for not doing it.”

His smooth fingers lace between mine with his forearm resting between my thighs. “As long as you’re not mad at me for telling everyone you’re married.”

“It was insensitive.” I look down at our joint hands, then back up to his dark eyes. “Kinda an asshole move.” A smile tugs at my lip, but I bite down until it’s hidden. A tingling feeling dances around in my stomach. “Stop giving me those Ryke eyes.”

“What are Ryke eyes? Don’t I always have my eyes?“ His brows near in his cocky demeanor.

I tilt my head, wrinkling my face at his poor mockery.

“The flirty thing you do. They narrow a little bit and have this slight bitterness about them before they light up and make my legs melt.”

“Wait, let me try this…” He looks to the left without moving, his eyes drifting back to me. They draw up in the slightest, taking hold of mine through his hooded glare. I squeak and turn away, covering my face.

“You equipped me with a weapon now.” His hands clasp around my wrists, pulling my hands down. I squirm and laugh, trying to avoid his weaponized eyes.

“Stop abusing your power.” I break one hand free or he lets go, allowing me to push back.

“I’m not doing anything. You’re the violent one.”

I drop my head back with a tight-lipped smile. Ryke’s hand slides down my thigh, gripping below my butt. “Come here.” He lifts as I lean toward him. “On my lap.” Another smirk plays at my lips as I straddle him on the top step. He inhales deeply, breathing it out slowly. “Are you ready to go back in?”

“Not really. I was thinking of lying in the grass for another ten minutes. It’s kinda my thing.”

“If that’s what you want to do, I won’t stop you, but my mom might be concerned.” He shrugs, chuckling.

“Okay. Fine. Lead me to the cookies.”

“These are amazing,” I murmur as my shoulders melt.

“Buttery, yes?” Hana answers the comment I made to myself. I glance up with a polite smile. “Max, I believe you have a pure soul.” Oh god. Where’s the but? “You’ve been through a lot and you’re still finding yourself. Am I correct?”

Her beautiful hooded eyes study me. I’m being interrogated by the FBI’s body language specialist and her aura reading power. She saw right through me before I began answering her questions.

“Yes,” I admit.

“It’s okay. That is something you need to do. I only ask that you be honest with my son if you do not see a future, because he may not see it for a while, but he sees it.” Her cold hand steadies on my forearm with a comforting smile.

Hana is afraid I’m wasting her son’s time and she’s not wrong to think it. When I’m sneaking peeks at my phone for race updates in the kitchen of his parent’s house…I wonder about it myself.

Cole finished fourth in the sixth round. Checking every motocross race, every weekend, and then, picking up Riley on Sunday without mentioning it has become a bit of a bad habit, to say the least. I can’t simply stop. It’s something I’ve been a part of for half of my life, if not longer.

Ugh. I don’t know what to wear.

I hold up a pair of jean shorts across my hips in a mock try-on, quickly tossing them to the bed behind me. Is it the shirt? Maybe the midi?

My phone buzzes. I grab it from the dresser and notice that it’s almost nine-thirty. Ryke is going to be back soon. At least he didn’t hang out while I got ready. I needed some space after the turn dinner took. What am I even doing going out after nine? I want to wash off this makeup, pin my hair up, put on my comfy shorts, and watch Netflix until it asks me if I’m still watching. Saturdays are usually work nights now. I’ve become accustomed to staying up late, but there are plenty of times I’d rather stay home instead of live-streaming half-naked men who love to tease the camera girl. Hard eye roll. Ryke took the night off to take me dancing or, uh, watch me dance? It’s weird. The whole thing. Him taking a night off, him setting me up with a girlfriends’ group…all of it. I want to go out and also don’t. Is this thirty? I have a few more months of my twenties. Am I supposed to be doing something else? Nope. It’s perfectly normal to not want to wear pants and participate at any age.

Walking out of my apartment, I lock the door and freeze in my footsteps. Ryke is leaning against a silver two-door sports car.

“Where did you get this car?”

“I rented it. I’m trying to support new businesses in town, that’s all.” Sure it is. “Do you like it?”

I guess that place, um…Broack’s auto-something opened up. I saw the grand opening sign last week, just didn’t pay attention to the date.

Ryke’s button-down shirt matches my navy midi skirt. Cute. Damn, his dark jeans hug his thighs in the right places and being fitted at the boots is a nice touch. I tap the rim of his clean beige hat up and kiss his lips. His hands wrap around my waist, holding me close.

“Don’t you think it’s a little much?” I side-eye.

“A Jaguar is never too much, peach.” He runs his hand over the scruff on his chin. “Does it make up for being a dick earlier?”

I rub my nose back and forth against his. “It’s a beautiful car,” I whisper.

He spins me, kissing my neck as the vehicle braces my back.

“Mam.” He takes the handle, opening the passenger door. “It’s my honor.” He ushers.

“Thank you, fine sir.”

He rounds the front of the car and gets in, snickering. “Sorry, I was thinking about the guys. They were at Rave opening week and we had this great conversation in beautifully awful accents about spotted dick.”

I can imagine how that went and how unrealistically humorous it had been. Their antics remind me of back home in my pre-parent era. They have less worry than I do. I’d wish I could go back, but if I’m time traveling, I’d have higher ambitions than being nineteen and careless. I try to stick to one thoughtless activity a week. It would be harder to make that happen if Ryke wasn’t a strong motivator.

The car hums, shaking louder with each rev he tries to impress me with. He looks both ways for cars, pulling out onto the dim street. How much did this thing cost? Do they rent motorcycles too? Oh, I guess I’d need my license for this state anyway.

“Sounds like a good conversation starter. Bet your mom would love to discuss the spotted dick at her son’s non-titty bar. I would no longer be the topic of interest.”

“Oh, you’ll be the topic of interest for the rest of the year.” I catch a glimpse of his straight teeth in the glow of the streetlight. “So don’t break up with me. The holidays will be non-stop harassment.”

“Does Raiden have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. Peyton.” He fiddles with the radio, tapping buttons.

“How come she wasn’t at dinner?” Looking ahead, I fixate on the reflection of the headlights bounce off the street signs.

“She’s a wild card. More of the girl everyone would picture me with.”

“Um?”

“I have a history with a certain type of woman,” he admits. “Not that my parents know much about them.”

I tuck my chin, gearing up to be sassy. “Are you saying that you fall for the bad girls?”

“The hard-to-get and hard-to-keep women.”

That’s why he’s persistent. I’m a chase. Something about being physically and emotionally unavailable sparks a light in my eyes that he’s seeing if he can blow out. It’s disgusting on one hand and endearing on another. I’m a rare prize he’s dying to win, but what after that?

“Why did you take me to meet your parents, Ryke?”

“Because I wanted them to meet you.” He glances between me and the road.

“Or you wanted to see if it would scare me off, so you could chase me again.”

His chin jerks up a hair. “You’re looking too deep into it.”

“What happens after you catch the unattainable girl?” The leather headrest comforts me as I slouch back, turning my head to the left to take in his features between the depths of the night.

“I get screwed over,” he grumbles.

“And why is that?”

“You know how you called hooking up with me a bad decision?”

“When you put it that way, it sounds—”

“Yeah. How that sounds—imagine worse. I’ve made worse than bad decisions.”

“How bad could it be?”

“Bad enough.” His eyes flash to me.

“How bad, Ryke?” My tone deepens with a sternness I had reserved for unnecessary expenses and Riley taking the scissors to her new blanket the second I blinked away.

“I went to jail,” he snaps, never raising his voice while the harsh tone still breaks through. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“You went to jail,” I mimic, blinking away. What the hell did he do?

He slowly exhales. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I guess it’s…No. I don’t want to make an excuse. I’m sorry. I lost my patience.” He holds the steering wheel in a single palm, almost center, and combs his wispy hair back. His hand rests at his temple, searching for a calm thought. “This girl…she was the one chase I caught and couldn’t let go of. I don’t really like that you push me to bring her up. It kinda ruins the mood.”

“Ryke, I—”

“You’re right, I should be honest. And it was a long time ago.”

I nod, staring straight out the window. Then I turn back to him. “Were you stalking her?”

“No.” His voice peaks as he shakes his head in dismay. “I was gullible.”

He goes quiet. Modern Love by All Time Lowplays on the radio and I glance out of the corner of my eye at him several times, debating if I should ask what went wrong. How bad was it? He didn’t have a record when I checked him out.

I try to lighten the tone, leaning into the center. “You’re not going to tell me what happened?”

“I prefer to not talk about it.” His lack of amusement tells me to drop it. I don’t listen. I push, like I pushed with Cole.

“I’m not allowed in your box…” I smooth my hands over my skirt. “That makes it hard to let you to mine.”

“I wouldn’t have brought you home if I knew it was going to open old wounds.” Ah, um excuse me.

“Mine are fresh,” I sneer. “Fresh wounds that you saw and insisted I lean on you. So don’t act like I’m digging up skeletons from your past to watch you squirm. I know why I’m closed off, why are you?”

“I’m not…” He sighs. “We’re almost there. Can we please not talk about it right now?”

I nod, reluctantly.

The mystery never ends and I’m wondering if getting inside that box will be satisfying or if it will reassure my choice to keep him at arm’s length.

Music carries outside Hole In The Wall. Besides feeling overdressed when it’s only a flowy skirt, the flashy car sticks out like a sore thumb amongst trucks at this line-dancing bar. Ryke likes it. He’s enjoying the attention, even if it’s not because he’s a sexy masked man. It’s the same thing, people staring at his car. I like his truck better, though.

“It gets you off, doesn’t it?”

“What gets me off?” He pulls out a package of gum from his pocket and silently chews it. His elbows press to the roof, he drinks me in with a glare that only confirms how he uses Rave. The persona erases the reality of our first disagreement…in his mind, anyway.

“The attention.”

“I like the attention you get, too.” His eyes run down to my chest. I close the passenger door, returning his look. My mouth curves and I shake the smile.

“Being a show off isn’t my thing.”

“I like being the center of attention and performing. Connecting with people with minimal words is my specialty.”

“Then you shouldn’t have any problem on the dance floor tonight.” I walk away, headed for the entrance in hopes Ryke returns from his Me, Myself, Irene episode.

A chirp locks the vehicle, and Ryke is directly behind me in seconds. Opening the door, I turn, barreling into his chest. He catches the door before it falls shut with a hand wrapped around my lower back.

I laugh, playing into his dramatics. “I thought my savior would never come.”

“Oh, princess. You fool me not. Thou shall not make up bullshit stories when she is indeed a badass and can escape the dragon on her own.” There he is. Fun Ryke.

His way with words is impeccable. I flirt, batting my lashes, and softly smiling.

“Excuse me.” A tall, husky sun-lived man with a silver beard and cut-off sleeves clears his throat. He takes hold along the top of the door as Ryke steers left. A pale ivory woman with a nose ring who is teeny in comparison, sporting a leather jacket, walks underneath the arm that holds the door.

“Come on, peach,” Ryke says, tugging me inside before we become a door block for the second time.

The dance floor is full of moving feet, including Sara’s. She stands out in tight black jeans and an orange cream tie-dye, loose-sleeveless cropped top. She’s cute as fuck with a single copper braid hitting between her shoulder blades.

“Ryke!” She hollers over the noise, pushing through patrons. “You guys made it.”

“Hi.” I wave.

“Hey, how have you been?” She taps my elbow after side-hugging Ryke.

“Good. Busy. How are you?” It’s been too long since both of us got together with Ryke’s friends.

“Uh…tipsy,” she laughs. “Kidding. Kinda. Are you getting used to the excitement at Rave?”

“Eh.” My lip curls. “There is always…a lot going on, to say the least.”

Country Girl Twerk by Cypress Springstarts playing and she mouths the words, rolling her shoulders side-to-side. “I love this song! Come dance.” She pulls me by the hand, making the choice for me. “This is Penn and Brenda.” She points to her two dancing friends that briefly wave and gesture.

I bop my chin up and down, taking in Sara’s moves for a minute before she instructs me. She crosses her legs, gliding to the left, and pops her butt out. A kick, a spin, and more booty pops. It’s not too difficult.

I mimic her, kicking and trying to figure out the footwork. As messy as my moves are, the girls nod and smile, flushing a wave of comfort over me.

“Yeah, you got it,” Sara cheers.

“Peach.” Ryke grabs me from behind, wrapping his hands around my hips and his mouth brushes my ear. “Do you want a drink or anything?”

“Yes. The anything part.” Spinning, I look up at him. “I wanna see how bad of a dancer you are.”

“Oh no, you don’t.”

“Please,” I pout. “Do you need a mask to hide behind?”

He stares at me deadpan. “I’m not dancing, Max. End of discussion.”

He steps away, but I grab his hand. “Why are you getting mad?”

“I’m not. I don’t want to dance. This is for you. It’s not my thing. I’m going to get a drink and find E.” He takes my chin between his fingers, kissing me before he walks away. Fuck you too, Rave.

“So, Max, how is it?” Sara’s blonde friend asks. Her braid is the same as Sara, tossed over her shoulder and a sparkly dark blue ribbon woven between strands.

My brows nearly touch. She said it. As in how is the city? How is working at Rave? Or…how is Ryke in bed? “Penn, right? How’s it?“ I play dumb, knowing what she’s hinting at. Pretty wild to ask someone you met minutes ago about their sex life.

“Being chased around by all those fine men at Rave.” Oh God. I’m the dirty minded one.

She takes my hand, spinning me, and I glance around, searching for Ryke.

“It’s a nightmare. Worst job I’ve ever had.” I roll my eyes, earning their smiles.