“But—” She drawled, continuing with her pep talk. “That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to let one in for a change. One that could be the perfect match that you’ve been waiting for, even if you can’t see it right away. I mean, the two of you already bicker like the idea of a relationship is foreplay.”
“How did you—”
“I was watching the security cameras that night. The alarm was tripped when he entered the studio, so I checked the system to make sure you were okay, and your body language alone told me you wanted to mount that man right where he stood.” Tiffany shrugged like spying on me wasn’t a problem.
“Tiff—”
“So, with that being said, pull that stick out of your ass and fuck what anyone else thinks. Because my opinion is the only one that matters and I’m saying the cowboy gets the green light.”
I’ve always been the one to talk my sister in and out of things… mostly out. So for her to be this aggressively passionate toward my situation was wildly out of character—and I kinda liked it.
Tiffany made it hard to fight and argue when there wasn’t a single reason to.
“Alright… fine… You win.”Because what’s the worst that could happen?
“Yay—”
“But…” I dragged out the word, cutting off her premature revelry.
“Yes?”
“You do not meddle. You do not plant the idea of this being anything more than a free use fuck into his head, got it?” My sister pressed her lips together, holding back the smile that threatened to burst from her face. “Tiff,” I warned.
“Okay, okay… no meddling.” Her eyes drifted as she sucked on her inner cheek, refusing to meet my gaze.
“Promise?”
“I…promise.” The word strained as if it were being painfully ripped from her vocabulary.
And if I know my sister… she’s gonna fuckin’ do it anyway.
Whatstartedasparanoiaabout being stalked eventually evolved into a dark curiosity. I found myself spending the last two nights in a cliché black hoodie, peeking through the windows of Vortex to spy on Rhylan as he taught private lessons, doing some stalking of my own.
The man had moves; there was no doubt there, and the longer I watched, the more invested I became. Rhylan was invested in his craft just as much as me, and it showed in how he cared for his students, taking them through their routines step by step and adjusting to their body’s abilities.
Tonight, he was teaching a young teen how to shuffle, and even though the kid stumbled multiple times with even the most basic footwork, Rhylan was patient; in no hurry to leave until they were ready.
I still hated him and his fucking studio, but beneath it all, something was making the idea ofplaying house, as my sister would call it, more appealing.
“And here I thought my sister was too good for stalking.” Tiffany’s voice startled me as she stepped into the shadows of the awning, her shoulder lightly brushing against mine. “Didn’t you just accuse Mr. Tall,Cut,and Handsome of the same thing a couple of days ago?” One of her brows arched with her question, and an ‘I knew it’smirk gleamed in her eyes.
“There’s something about him that I can’t seem to get out of my system.” I was always open and honest with my sister; we rarely hid anything from each other anymore.
“I think they call that instant attraction; borderline love.” She elbowed me in the side with a light-hearted chuckle, and I didn’t fight the smile she elicited with the gesture.
“Don’t you go bringing the L-word into this. I don’t even know him.” Even after spending the past few nights studying this man, I didn’t know a single goddamn thing more about him than I did the days before.
“You and I both know that’s total bullshit. You know enough to decide if he’s worth chasing. You’re just too scared to admit the truth out loud.”
I returned my attention to Rhylan inside his studio and could swear that, through the mirrors' reflections, his eyes met mine for a brief second; my lungs stalled, and my chest tightened.
“What if what I want feels… dangerous?” Rhylan gave off an energy when he was near; one that emanated a vicious predator on high alert, reeking of testosterone. But oddly enough, the danger only made me crave him more.
“Then I’d say all the more reason? We both know you’re a closet adrenaline junkie; hell, you went skydiving last year just to prove a point, which again, you didn’t, and I still have nightmares of your body exploding on impact and covering that field in all your blood and organs and shit...” I winced at her imagery.
“Morbid much, Tiff? Really? Was that necessary?”
“What? I have an overactive imagination, I can’t help it if my thoughts come out darker than they should.”
