Page 2 of Perfect Rhythm
She said that shit every year, and every year, I went along with it.
Skye turned up the music, and the rest of the dancers crowded around me to cheer me on. If this was any indication of how the rest of my night was going to go, I was looking forward to every second.
When we pulled up to the club, the parking lot was packed, and the line was wrapped around the building. But that didn’t come as much of a surprise since it had been announced that Shade would be making an appearance on his last night in Baymont Hill.
“Holy shit,” Skye shouted as she yanked me off the bus and pointed to a massive sign above the club. “Did this man really buy an entire billboard to wish your ass a happy birthday?”
I slammed my hand against my mouth, staring at the larger than life sign that lit up the skyline with bold, vibrant colors. In the center was a photo of me caught mid-spin, arms flung out, and my wavy hair flying in the wind. I was dancing blissfully, lost in the moment. Surrounding the image were bright, playful graphics and a bold message that said:Happy birthday, Nyx. Much love. Shade and The Crew.
“I’m speechless,” I whispered.
“Mmhmm, I bet.” Skye smacked her lips together. “We’ve celebrated a lot of birthdays on this tour. I don’t remember anyone else getting a whole fucking billboard with their face on it.”
“Whatever.” I waved her off and started walking toward the club, then I stopped. “Hold up, I remember that photo. You took it while we were dancing at that rooftop party we crashed last year. How did he even get that?”
“I gave it to him. But I thought he wanted to put it on a cake or something.”
The low rumble of an engine caught my attention.
I looked over my shoulder, my eyes landing on a black SUV parking near the curb. It was sleek, tinted, and purring low with the kind of quiet power that made people look twice.
The driver hurried around to the back door on the passenger’s side and pulled it open.
Shade stepped out, his tall and broad-shouldered bodyguard standing next to him.
The crowd went wild, and camera lights started flashing from every direction.
I watched in awe, taking in every inch of him. His dark brown skin glowed under the streetlights, highlighting his ink-coveredneck. He was wearing a black varsity-style jacket, a black tee that hugged his massive chest, and dark jeans.
It seemed simple. But on him, it screamed,forfine niggas only.
I turned away when I saw him lower his shades.
I didn’t see his eyes land on me, but from the way the small hairs on the back of my neck stood up, I was convinced they had.
Then came the scent. It was fresh and smooth with the faintest trace of smoked wood. It wrapped around me gently, a scent that only he wore.
My breath caught, and then a low voice brushed my ear.
“Happy birthday,” he whispered.
The words slid over me like silk, making my skin tickle.
Then, he was gone.
2
SHADE
“Damn, you went all out, didn’t you?” my bodyguard, Trace, shouted over the music as he stood next to me in the VIP section.
“What?”
He nodded toward the exit. “With that big ass birthday billboard.”
“Oh, that?” I waved him off and returned my gaze to the crowded dance floor beneath us. “I just wanted to show some birthday love. No big deal.”
“Hmm...okay.”
