Page 33 of Perfect Boy

I’m going back to Canada. And I will likely never be able to come over here again. All the dreams I had for New York City…gone.

After she releases me, I walk out of her office, knowing I need to think of something. And fast.

13

Watson

Ryann is in a bad mood.

Maybe it’s because this is our last practice before dress rehearsal, and then the fundraiser is this weekend, and she’s worried I’m not ready. I have no idea. But ever since we started practicing today, she’s been short with me.

Since we hooked up weeks ago, it hasn’t been easy to be around her. Probably because I wish I could kiss her anytime I feel like it and she’s dead set on not letting me get too close. Whatever it is, it’s frustrating as hell. It’s like she’s put a wall between us, and that makes dancing together pretty damn strange.

She looked so bored during her dates the other night. If she had looked like she was into someone, I probably would have lost my shit. But it was almost comical, watching her trying to stay awake date after date. Being too damn stubborn to just join me at the bar.

During one of her moves—a move she usually does with ease—when she leaps into my arms and I spin her around, she tumbles to the ground.

“Damn it!” she growls. But before I can help her up, her palm slaps against the wooden floor. “I can’t do this right now!” Bringing her knees to her chest, she drives her face into her legs. “Watson, I appreciate how hard you’ve worked, but I can’t do this fundraiser with you. It’s an important day, and I’m going to ruin it.” She exhales. “Who knows if I’ll even be here by then anyway?”

Kneeling down next to her, I run my hand over her hair. “What are you talking about, Tiny Dancer? Why the fuck would you think you’d ruin the fundraiser?” I frown down at her. “And what is that supposed to mean? If you’ll even be here? Where else would you be?”

“Nothing,” she mutters. “It means nothing.”

Going out on a limb and preparing myself to be headbutted or kneed in the balls, I tuck my hands under her and lift her against me. Sitting on the floor and scooching my back to the mirrored wall, I hold her in my arms. Shocked that she isn’t kicking and screaming to get away. But when I see her face, I realize she’s crying.

“Twice now,” she croaks. “Twice, you’ve seen me lose my shit. That’s twice more than any other human being alive.”

“What’s going on, Ry?” I whisper against her head. “I promise, you can talk to me.”

“Why do you act like we’re friends? I barely even know you! We’ve danced together.” She sniffles. “And, yeah, we hooked up, sure. But aside from that and the few times we’ve hung out…I don’t know you.” She peeks up at me. “And you don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” I say lowly.

She’s quiet. But I wait patiently, hoping she’ll open up. It seems like a far-fetched thing to hope for, seeing as she never wants to open up to me at all. It’s like staring up at the sky and waiting for a shooting star to fall. You never know when it’ll happen, but eventually, it has to.

All stars burn out at some point.

And finally…she speaks. “I’m probably going to get deported back to Canada in a few weeks,” her voice barely squeaks. “And part of me thinks I should just do myself a favor and go back right now. Before I’m forced to against my will.”

I’m stunned. Out of all the things I imagined might come from her pretty lips, that wasn’t it. But I try to hide my shock and just keep myself calm and my voice level.

“I don’t understand,” I say softly. “Why would you get deported?”

“Because I lied to get here.” She looks down, ashamed. “I weaseled myself into Brooks with a fake visa.”

Holy fuck. This is some serious shit. My entire body tenses, but I try to hide the sheer shock on my face.

Slowly, I brush some loose strands of hair away from her forehead. “How did you find out that you were caught?”

“My work,” she says, holding her eyes to mine. “At Peaches.”

“The strip club?” This time, I can’t hide how I’m feeling. “You work at the strip club?”

I’ve been there once. And honestly, places like that aren’t my cup of tea. The men act entitled, and so many of them are creeps. So, when I was there, I never really looked around much.

“Go on and judge me,” she snaps. “But working there has allowed me to have a car, a phone, and buy my baby sister a phone too.”

“I’m not judging,” I answer quickly. “I’m just…surprised. I had no idea.”

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