Page 10 of Beneath the Hood

Maybe he can see the difference in us, can tell that while she’s effortless, I’m a constant struggle.

A never-ending work in progress.

A fraud.

I feel the brush of a palm along my lower hip, and I turn, staring into the gray eyes of DJ Andelo.

Gripping his wrist, I smile. “Watch your hands.”

He smirks, his neon pink headphones pressed between his shoulder and his ear, while he leans forward and shouts into the mic. “Everyone having a good time tonight? Give it up! We’ve got thestunningBlakely Donahue in the house!”

Cheers erupt, a sea of hands and hair flying as they jump to the beat.

Anxiety eats away at my insides, and I try to find my center.

Deep breath in. One. Two. Three.Deep breath out.

Slowly, the rubber band around my chest loosens, allowing the Blakely Donahue they all expect to come to the forefront. Knowing that as long as I play my part, they won’t look too deep. Won’t see through to my core and realize I’m an imposter.

I’ve tricked the world into thinking I’m somebody, when really, I’m nothing more than what they pay me to be.

A walking, talking billboard.

But I’m damn good at it.

Closing my eyes, I throw my hands above my head, and move my hips to the beat, hoping they’ll get some candid shots to circulate online. My goal is to come across lost in the music, having the time of my life, even though I’m anything but.

Controlling the narrative is everything.

Suddenly, a frisson of energy snaps at my skin, sending a rush of tingles up my spine. I don’t even have to look to know it’s him. There’s a magnetism whenever his eyes are on me, an attention that splices me deep and tries to draw out everything I keep locked inside.

I open my eyes, our gazes locking like pieces of a puzzle.

He’s not smiling. Just looking.

Watching.

A grin grows on my face as I hold his stare, my hips moving faster to the beat.

He shifts uncomfortably, and my eyes trail down his body, warmth shooting through my stomach and pooling between my thighs at the sudden urge to know what it would feel like to move my hips in his lap instead of on a stage.

Smirking, he leans back, spreading his legs out in front of him. Kayla’s mouth is moving, and he nods to whatever she’s saying, but his eyes stay on me, burning me from the inside out.

Just the way I like it.

6

Jackson

She’s nineteen.

Maybe if I say it enough times it will sink into my brain and my cock will calm the hell down from where it’s pressing painfully against my zipper. I shift on the club couch, trying to relieve the pressure. Unfortunately, adjusting moves me closer to Blakely’s friend who seems to have issues with personal boundaries.

But she’s a distraction from the girl I shouldn’t be looking at, so at least for the moment, I lean in closer and indulge her.

“What did you say your name was?” I flash her a smile and watch the blush rise on her high cheekbones.

“Kayla.” She grins and keeps talking, but my attention is stolen away by the thump of the bass and the lithe body that’s moving to its beat. Heat flares in my veins as Blakely opens her eyes and stares directly at me. My stomach flips, but I don’t drop her gaze. She’s always brazen, but in this setting she’s impossible to look away from. She’s in her element. Gorgeous in the spotlight.

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