Page 29 of Endgame

Her grin tells me she’s down with my suggestion as we walk hand in hand to dance the night away.

Navy has managedto convince Luke to drop sixty bucks on songs from our favorite playlist. As much as I doubt my ability to let loose, I feel sensational. I’ve always loved dancing. Music is therapy for me. My body is in tune with thebass, hips rhythmically gliding in slow motion to the song's beat. I feelfree. Like my life is on a sabbatical, and I can breathe again.

My body also seems to be the master of betrayal because suddenly, my senses are at attention—I feel him. The feeling is foreign but recognizable, maybe because it was the moment I felt something other than numbness.

Lately, that’s been a difficult task.

I’m looking in my peripherals, trying not to search for him without making it obvious. I wouldn’t want to give Callaway the satisfaction of knowing my body recognizes him.

The club is dark and moody with spotlights and bouncers parked out in every lit corner, the darkness making it difficult to see. I’ve met the guy twice, and it’s not like he would notice me or even care if I was here. The plan was for me to meet someone new, not ask questions or take names but to have the best orgasm of my life and be on my way—a time to be bold.

I turn my body to where Navy and Luke are shaking sheets on the dance floor and find a blonde guy with loose, curly hair dancing next to me. He’s tall and sort of cute, but not what I would usually go for—conveniently lacking tattoos and a Jeep.

I’m in no position to be picky, so I make my move.

At first glance, his eyes take in my ample cleavage, and I know I’ve got him. He casually moves closer while swaying to the beat of the music.

“Birthday Sex” by Jeremih cuts through the speakers, and my body hums with anticipation. Blondie curls around my front to position himself so that his right thigh wedges between my most sensitive place. I drape my right arm over his shoulder and let the music take over. The guy isn’t aterrible dancer; he’s just doing nothing for me. I’m right back to the problem I always face—feeling hollow.

I intentionally try to tune out my mental noise. There’s no way I’ll be able to let myself be taken by the guy if I have my head up my ass. He’d feel like he’s screwing a corpse.

I throw my head back and keep my eyes closed as I slowly start to roll my hips.

Think less about the pain, Dakota.

Let yourself feel something. Anything.

Drown out the noise.

I’m doing my best to get lost in the music and focus on his hands caressing my thighs. My hair grazes my back as I arch into his touch and feel my body come to life.

If he would slide his thumbs a little bit closer.

Maybe this is the awakening I’ve been searching for.

As if hearing my thoughts, my eyes barely open before they connect with the brightest ocean blues from across the room.

Time stands still.

Callaway leans against a wooden pillar next to the lounge bar with his hands tucked into his front pockets, beaming heat at me. I can’t tell much of his expression from here, but his eyes read like curiosity. He’s probably wondering how long it will take me to bitch out blondie here and run in the opposite direction.

He wouldn’t be wrong. Those are my thoughts exactly.

However, I didn’t come here to flirt from afar, so if he wants to stand there and watch, then so be it—time to give him a show worth paying attention to.

Let’s hope this works in my favor.

12

CALLAWAY

I’ve never seenDunks look so sexy.

Goddamn.

“Bro, it’s ladies' night. What the hell are you doing sulking in a corner?” Gus cuts in, stopping my distracted thoughts. He nudges my side as if it will get me to move from the best spot in the club.

“I’m enjoying the view.” He has no clue what view I’m admiring specifically, so I keep him guessing.

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