“She’ll make you pay for it.”
“Let her bill me.” I spun her out and back. “Dance, Torres. Your abuela is watching, and I’m trying to make a good impression.”
The music got even faster, and I wasn’t about to let her get away. I spun her around over and over until she had no choice but to focus on the footwork instead of whatever was churning in her mind. I watched the tension melt away again as she found herself, found her body.
From the edges, people started shouting, “Quiébrala!” on repeat, and I wrapped my hands tighter around her waist so we could move faster.
“Slow down, pendejo!”
But the smile was back, and she didn’t miss a single step.
“Don’t worry, Selena. I’m not going to break you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Selena
The songs wound down,and Chase never let go, one hand low on my back, the other still wrapped around mine. The string lights blurred to gold overhead. My mother had drifted off to find her captive audience, and the farther she got, the more I could breathe.
“You okay?”
He didn’t make it a thing. He simply adjusted his hand on my back, the warm pressure steadying.
I nodded.
“She’s vicious, I’ll give her that. Goes for the soft parts every time.”
“That obvious?”
“I’m a predator too, Torres. I recognize an attack when I see one.” He turned us slowly. “For what it’s worth, she’s wrong.”
“About which part?”
“All of it.” He gazed down at me. “Sometimes, people with exceptional talent forget all the work it took to get there, how hardtheyworked to get there. And they never see it in others. But what you’ve built here, Selena? It’s amazing. You’ve built a community, something that gives more than it takes. Don’tforget that.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that, so I rested my forehead against his collarbone and let him move us. For a few bars, I just let myself be held, not managing anyone else’s emotions, not bracing for anything.
Safe.
It was such a foreign feeling I almost didn’t recognize it.
When the song ended, I didn’t step back.
“Come back to my place,” I murmured into his shirt.
He went still.
“Your place?”
“That’s what I said.”
He drew back enough to look at me, and there was a careful look on his face, like he thought he might’ve misheard.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not making it weird.” But he was searching my face, and the usual easy grin wasn’t there. “I just want to make sure you really want to let me in.”
The honest answer was right there, next to the golden magic that filled me whenever he was near, waiting for me to see this had always been more than sex magic. The night was warm, and he’d stood between me and my mother without ever once blinking, even though she’d offered him waves and a comeback and social media likes. All the barriers I’d put up—he’s a tourist, he’s a corporate-sponsored ass, he’s an obnoxious, self-centered frat boy…he’s going to leave—they all came crashing down as his hand rested against my lower back and his heart beat against mine.
