Page 38 of Beauty Sleep

There he is. Under the dim lights, on the edge of the crowd, mask pushed up to his forehead again as he looks between the booth and his audience. He’s not quite dancing, but he’s moving with the crowd.

The closer I get, the more I can see him watching everyone yet no one, utterly in the zone. That must be how he looks when he’s with me—responsive to the slightest change in the energy and desires.

That’s how he anticipates my needs, like he’s reading my mind.

It’s one of his gifts—one of many. And I can’t shake the feeling that I jumped to conclusions. There’s a reason it seemed so unbelievable that he was lying to me, or playing games, or steering me the wrong way.

Because that’s not what he meant to do.

I think he just forgot that I’m not a collective entity of an audience to be guided and steered from afar. I’m one person—one scared boy, one Sleeping Beauty who’s only just learning how to wake up and go after what I want.

Now I know why I’m here.

I’m here to dance, and study him, and let his spell fall over me once more. From the middle of the dance floor now, thereare too many surging bodies for him to know who I am… but I’m close enough to see him, standing alone behind the decks.

How the table turns. Or the turntables.

I just have to pray that afterward—when I approach him—he’s ready to let me in.

I don’t know how much time has passed. Hours, certainly. I’ve downed several bottles of water, and turned down quite a few guys hitting on me.

I’ve already got a date tonight… whether he knows it or not.

He doesn’t talk very much during his sets. Whenever he does, his voice is that sultry, dripping-sweet honey I know so well.

And this time, I hear what I’ve been waiting for. He’s thanking everyone, announcing a surprise guest DJ who’s taking over the decks until the end of the night… and he’s stepping away.

As the track changes and a cheer goes up, I quickly elbow my way through the crowd toward the front. Prince is melting into the shadows against the wall, staring across the crowd with a look I’ve never seen on his face before.

He looks wired, yet exhausted. He’s pouring sweat and smiling, but there’s a sadness in his eyes. I’m just steps away as he slips out from behind the booth, reaching up for the mask like he’s considering pulling it back down.

I step out of the shadows and into his path.

God, he’s taller than me. I had no idea until now.

Prince sidesteps automatically, nodding politely without looking at me like he’s trying to turn me down.

There’s no way he’ll hear me say anything, this close to the thumping speakers. My heart pounds nervously in my chest as I step again to block his path.

He looks up this time—stares at me, past the flimsy gold mask—and then his jaw drops.

I don’t even need to take off my mask. He knows me.

Prince reaches for my hand, and I let him take it to pull me towards the far corner of the room. He effortlessly strides through the crowd, and they just seem to part for him without even knowing they’re doing it. It’s something about his presence that makes them step aside for him—and me.

That’s hot.

With every step, it gets just a little bit quieter. It’s still loud by the time we reach the corner, but I don’t think either of us can wait long enough to reach somewhere truly quiet.

He spins to face me, his eyes intensely burning with something I can’t quite place.

“You came.”

I nod as he studies me. He reaches out as if to touch the sweat sheen on my forehead, then hesitates. I bite my lip, nervous all over again as I watch him drop his hand.

“Been here a while?”

I nod again, fumbling with the ribbon at the back of my head until my mask slips off. “I had to see you.” I fidget nervously, poking my finger through one of the eyeholes to spin the mask nervously around my hand. “You made me… wake up and open my eyes.”

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