Page 103 of After Midnight

His brown eyes narrow slightly as his thumb traces the soft spot beneath my eye. “You don’t have to carry it all, Rem. I want to help you. If you’ll let me.”

Now it’s my turn to trace his face, my fingers skating across his jaw, his cheekbones, the curve of each ear. I bite my lip, then whisper, “I’ll try.”

He nods once, then loops his arms fully around my waist, pulling me into such a tight hug that it almost takes the breath from my lungs.

I close my eyes and focus on the feel of his heart beating against mine, our chests pressed together, breathing finding a similar rhythm.

I’m so, so glad I’m in his arms right now. For the first time since those flowers showed up at my door, I don’t feel afraid.

And with that new bravery, I tell him all of it. I tell him about James, his snide little comments, his note tucked into the white orchids. Seb doesn’t interrupt me when I speak, even if his face pinches with what looks like anger and concern; he just looks at me, listens to me, shows me that he’s here. And that’s more than enough.

That night, when we crawl into my bed, Seb wraps himself around me from behind, one arm holding me tight, his breath tickling the back of my neck. And this time, when I close my eyes, I actually find sleep.

chapter 48

Remi

WHEN I ASKED SEB WHEN he was going back to LA, he told me he’d be here for me as long as I need. I almost told him I don’t need him here, but I didn’t. Because I do want him here. And I’ll take as much time as he’ll give me.

On Tuesday, I invite Riley over for dinner and surprise her with meeting Seb. I swear she almost faints when he’s the one who opens the door. After she recovers from her shock, the two get on as if they’ve known each other for a lifetime. Watching them play Monopoly at my kitchen table, laughing and bantering like siblings, makes me feel completely full inside, like everything is exactly how it’s supposed to be.

But that feeling slowly dims on Wednesday evening. Seb sits on my bed, watching me in the mirror as I get ready for my shift at the club.

“Are you sure you want to go tonight?” he asks.

I finish with a sweep of liquid eyeliner on my top lid, then meet his gaze in the mirror and nod. “I’m sure.” I take a breath and sit up straighter at my vanity. “I can’t let him make me scared in my own workplace. And besides, he’s only in the club on Fridays.”

Assuming he’s going to keep coming, which he might not, seeing as he wasn’t there last Friday when I was working. Maybe the flowers will be the end of it and I’ll never see him again.

Seb looks concerned, his brow furrowed and dark eyes narrowed as he watches me put on my false eyelashes. But he doesn’t try to push back against me. Instead, all he says is, “Can I drive you tonight?”

My lips quirk up on one side. “I thought you were terrible with finding your way around new cities.”

One of his shoulders lifts in a shrug. “I am. But I’ve got GPS; I can figure it out. And I want to take you.”

I stare at him for a moment longer, a refusal resting at the tip of my tongue. But instead of letting it out, I nod once. Because the idea of him dropping me off helps to calm some of the discomfort lingering inside me. “I’d like that.”

Back in the club, under the swirling neon lights, I try to find my stride. I’ve danced here for years, yet something about the stage feels different as I move across it tonight.

Or maybe I’m the one who’s changed.

It’s a Wednesday, so the club is quieter than it is on the weekends. People still sit at the bar and around the main stage, and customers are sprinkled through the tables and couches and booths, but otherwise, it’s a tame evening.

I’m onstage, top off, twirling around the chrome pole beneath the swirling lights, when I catch a glimpse of someone sitting in one of the VIP booths. And when I look again, I get a sudden rushing in my ears, my heart beating a bit faster.

He’s here.

James is here, in his regular booth, watching me.

But he’s not supposed to be here. He only ever comes to the club on Fridays, between two and four a.m. So . . . why is he here now?

Trying to refocus on my dance, I grip the pole and do a reverse stag spin, lowering all the way to the stage. A bill flutters down from one of the customers close to the stage, but I’m so distracted by James being here that I have to remember to smile.

I don’t like that his routine has changed. It makes something turn in my stomach, and my hands are clammy on the pole.

I can feel his eyes on me as I finish my dance, and it takes all my focus not to look over at him while I collect my top and bills from the stage, then slip through the curtain and into the dim light backstage.

Immediately, I head to the dressing room, trying to control my urge to run. Once the door is closed firmly behind me, I let out the breath I was holding. My chest feels tight, my heart beating too fast. I walk to my locker on five-inch heels, noticing as I turn the lock that my fingers are trembling.