Page 181 of Irreversible

Whipping around, I stalk toward the curtains, nearly tripping over my heels.

His voice catches me before I slip through. “Bee.”

I freeze in place, my back to him, closing my eyes as the nickname trickles through me like warm honey. A soothing balm.

But the words that follow are an acid-doused knife.

“See you soon.”

An avalanche of emotion slams into me.

I whirl back around, my eyes widening, ablaze. I gape at him, stunned he could be so careless with my heart.

He falters, takes in my reaction.

My pain.

I see the regret fill his eyes, but it’s too late.

I waited so long to hear him repeat those words. They were a promise that we’d find each other outside of that place. That our stories, talks, and soul-deep connection would follow us home.

That one day…he’d finally see me.

But he just twisted those words into something meaningless, and he can’t take them back.

He doesn’t see me at all.

Isaac swallows and looks away, dipping his chin until he’s staring down at the floor.

I flip him off and storm out of the suite.

43

Iscrewed a stranger.

I screwed a stranger in the champagne room.

I saw a man’s face for the first time, and my inherent reaction was to hop in his lap, remove his pants, and ride him into oblivion.

Jesus Christ.

The words echo in my mind, a scratchy old record spinning relentlessly on repeat. My eyes squeeze shut as I twirl around the pole, my body rotating in time with my intrusive thoughts.

I. Screwed. A?—

No.

Not a stranger…not technically.

Even though something tells me he is.

Every sound hooks my nerves. The main doorwhooshesopen, and I snap to attention, my gaze darting left, waiting, hoping—or maybe bracing. When a new voice cuts through my fog, I strain my ears, waiting for the one voice that could shatter or steady me.

I expected him to come tonight. He’s like a vampire, keeping to the shadows, prowling when the sun dips and the darkness thickens. Isaac has been hunting me.

And I walked right into his trap.

Spotlights catch on the sapphire sequins of my bralette as I sweep it from the stage, my smile plastered on for show. I don’t remember much of the dance, but I’ve made enough tips to feed myself for a few days. Still dazed, I retreat to the dressing room and slide into my casual armor: ripped skinny jeans, a cream camisole, black ankle boots. The raven wig comes off, my hair scraped into a hasty topknot. Purse and jacket slung over my shoulder, I weave back into the club.

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