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His head drops down as he rubs at the back of his neck.
“Yeah, I know the feeling.”
Dropping my guard a touch, I walk across the platform to squat down in front of him. He lifts his head, and our eyes meet. We’re face-to-face again, our height just the same with the way we’re positioned.
Fuck, I feel bad for Damon. You can plainly see the demons dancing in his gaze. And sadly, there isn’t a damn thing I can do for him.
“I don’t think you need a dance, Champ. I think you need something I can’t give you.”
Brows tugging together, he licks his tongue across his top teeth. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
The storm is spinning faster again, but I say what needs to be said regardless.
“You need a friend.”
Laughter shakes his shoulders, his eyes narrowing on me like I’m so far beneath him my opinion isn’t worth the ink it would cost to write it down.
“You don’t know me. And you have no idea what I need. You’re just a woman in a cage who likes flashing her tits for spare change.”
You’d think I’d be used to insults like his. But for some reason the one he just tossed out stabs me in a million different places.
Probably because he’s not wrong.
“I also think you need to go,” I tell him, my voice leaving no room for argument.
Damon stares at me long and hard. At first, I think he’ll refuse the suggestion, that I’ll have no choice but to hit the emergency button to alert security that I need help. But then he mutters something too soft for me to completely make out.
We’re at a standstill for what feels like forever but is really only a few seconds.
Damon shakes his head. “Have a good life, Blue.”
He flips me off as he rounds the platform to head toward the door, jerking it open and slamming it shut on his way out.
Tears burn the rims of my eyes that do nothing but piss me off. I refuse to let them run down my cheeks.
People don’t scare me easily.
Especially not cocky men who think they can throw money at a woman and buy anything they want.
Insults don’t usually affect me. I’ve been called damn near every name in the book.
So why did Damon’s words affect me?
I promise myself that I’ll never have anything to do with him again. But something inside me warns this won’t be the last time we see each other.
It shouldn’t excite me to think he’ll be back.
It should terrify me instead.
Damon
A friend.
The dancer thinks I need a friend.
I was still laughing about that bullshit when I woke up this morning, her stupid suggestion a joke that was tumbling around with the rest of the crap in my head.
Why she thought she knew anything about me or could recommend what I need is beyond me. It’s like she thought she was counseling me instead of flashing me her body as a momentary distraction from life.
