You and I Alone

by Melissa Toppen

  Realizing I haven’t talked to Lo since Thursday, she has no idea about anything that has happened, only that I was still considering backing out of my Friday date. Pushing open my dressing room door, I gesture for her to go inside and then close the door behind us before continuing to give her a quick run down of the weekends events.

  “What do you think is going on in there?” I ask as soon as I have finished filling her in, needing some sense of reassurance that the whole Cora thing is not as big of a deal as it seemed.

  “I'm sure it's nothing.” Lo attempts to make me feel better but even she doesn't seem very convinced. “What I am more interested in is the two of you. I knew you would cave.” She smiles widely at me, crossing her arms in front of her chest in an I told ya so fashion.

  “Like he gave me a choice.” I sigh, throwing my arms in the air.

  “I gotta go. I'm on in five. But you and me, later tonight? I need details woman.” She laughs, pulling the door open behind her.

  “Tonight's no good. I need to go home. But soon. I promise.” I say, holding her over for the moment.

  “Fine. But I want an update as soon as you talk to Mr. Rich, Powerful and Hot as Fuck.” She fans herself and then laughs on her way out the door.

  The moment I'm alone, a strange feeling settles over me and I quickly realize it is the first time in three days that I have been completely alone. Not liking the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I quickly dress in my outfit for the night, a white corset with matching panties, tights and guarder belts. Freshening up my makeup quickly, I tie my hair into a side braid and slip on my heels before heading out into the club.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I keep myself as busy as possible during my shift but that doesn't mean that I don't make an excuse to wander up to the front every now and again to see if Bentley is there. Through two dances and three floor shifts, I have not spotted him once and honestly, it bothers me a hell of a lot more than I care to admit.

  As I take the stage for my third and final dance of the night, I decide to push Bentley as far out of my head as possible. He has no obligation to me and as such, I have no right to be angry over the fact that clearly something is going on and I am being left completely in the dark. Only deep down, I know I am more worried about what he is doing with Cora right now than anything.

  Is he whispering sweet nothings into her ear, asking her to be his? Is he pushing her against the wall and fucking her or does he prefer the desk instead? These are the little things that eat at me and for the life of me, I can't seem to cope with.

  This is why I avoid relationships. This is why I stick to sex. Sex is so much easier. It's passion and want, desire and lust, all wrapped up into one fucking perfect concoction. Why did I think I would get anywhere straying from what I know?

  As Demi Lovato's “Heart Attack” fills the air, I take the stage with new purpose. As each word dances around me, I convince myself that I don't care. That I feel nothing for Bentley. That I don't care if he is fucking her right now and confessing his undying love to her. They can have each other for all I care.

  Losing myself in the words, in the rhythm, I work the stage more enthusiastically than normal, making eye contact and running my hands along my body in a way that makes every man feel like I am doing it just for him. Because right now, that's exactly what I'm doing.

  I am reminding myself of who I am. Of who I love to be. Sexual, strong, independent, but most importantly, free. When I exit the stage as the song wraps up, I lose my ability to be tactful any longer. Bentley has been in that office with Cora for over two hours at this point and I am ready to show him that I couldn't care less.

  Heading backstage, I quickly change, cringing slightly when Bentley's smell engulfs me. Having been in his arms all day, most of his cologne must have transferred to my shirt in the process. The thought sends an ache through me that I am not prepared to feel. I take a deep breath and a long look in my vanity mirror before exiting my room and going in search of Bentley.

  Cutting through the back, I enter the main entrance foyer just moments later, immediately heading towards the office. I have no intentions of knocking but before I have the chance to barge in, Malcolm's voice halts my actions.

  “He's not in there.” He says, pulling my attention to where he is standing next to the front door.

  “Where did he go?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even like I don't really care one way or another.

  “He left with Cora a little over an hour ago.” He says, his voice apologetic which makes the blow that much harder to take. The last thing I want is for people to feel bad for me. I did this to myself. I have no one to blame but myself.

  “If he happens to come back at some point, will you let him know I found my own way home please.” I say, waiting for his nod before spinning on my heel and walking away.

  I am too proud to ask anyone for help, so knowing I have no way home, the moment I step outside, I head in the direction of the only place I know to go. The dance studio. It's well after two in the morning so calling Patty is out of the question and honestly, I really just need some time alone to process things.

  I cut along the back of the building, planning to take the shortcut down Jefferson but my steps are immediately halted when I spot Bentley and Cora just a few feet in front of me standing next to a red car that I can only assume belongs to her, since I don't make it a habit of knowing what everyone drives.

  Their voices are low and muffled but getting any closer is simply not an option. From where I am standing, I am completely covered in darkness. Neither one of them can see me therefore neither know that I am here. Like watching a movie in slow motion, I see it all unfold in front of my eyes. I watch as she leans into him, but I can't make out her expression to figure out what's going on. The only thing I know is that when she pushes up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his, he doesn't push her away and honestly, that's all I need to see.

  Turning swiftly, I run directly into Josh just as he exits the back entrance, clearly startled by our collision. “Logan.” He jumps, taking a step back. “What are you doing?” He manages to get out before I hold my hand over his mouth to silence him.

  “Drive me home.” I plead, not looking in Bentley's direction. I have no idea if he has figured out that I am here or if he even cares. All I know is that if I don't get the hell out of here right now, I very well may completely melt down in front of everyone.

  “Logan...” He starts but I cut him off again.

  “Take me home.” I insist, seeing the moment his eyes register what the hell is going on. He looks out behind me and then back down at me, his expression softening the moment it all becomes clear.

  “Let's go.” He says, leading me to the right side of the parking lot, away from where Bentley and Cora are currently standing. Josh waits until I climb into the passenger seat before firing the engine to life. The moment the headlights kick on, I can see Bentley and Cora plain as day, only they aren't kissing this time. Both turn their heads towards Josh's vehicle but knowing there is no way they can see me, given the headlights are pointed right at them, I relax a little as Josh pulls out of his spot and makes his way towards the exit.

  I don't look back in their direction again, my head collapsing on the head rest as Josh pulls out into the empty night street. “Can you drop me at PW Dance Studio on Franklin?” I ask, not looking in Josh's direction but rather, staring out at the scenery passing outside of my window.

  “Logan.” Josh starts but I immediately cut him off.

  “I don't want to hear an I told you so right now Josh.” I snap, turning my head inwards to face him. He gives me a soft smile before turning his attention back to the road.

  “I wasn't going to.” He says. “I was just going to ask if you are okay. What happened?” He asks, seeming genuinely concerned.

  “I'm fine. Nothing happened. I just thought I had something figured out but quickly realized I was wrong.” I say, crossing my arms in front of
my chest, a chill running through my body despite the warm night air.

  “You know you can tell me. I won't judge.” He offers, turning left and then right, closing in on the studio.

  “I know and I appreciate that. But I'm fine. Really.” I reassure him, reaching out to rest my hand on his forearm as he pulls the jeep to a stop outside of the studio.

  He looks down at my hand on his arm which immediately brings my attention to the contact and I pull it away. “You sure you don't just want me to take you home?” He asks.

  “I'm staying with Patty a few miles outside of the city.” I remind him. “It's late. I don't want you to have to take me that far out of your way.”

  “I don't mind.” He immediately cuts in, reminding me what an amazingly thoughtful man Josh can be.

  “I know you don't.” I say, giving him a warm smile. “But I'm good here.” I say, pushing open the passenger side door and climbing out, turning to face him once more. “Thanks again for the ride. I'll see you tomorrow.” I say, giving him the best smile I can muster before shutting the door and quickly crossing the sidewalk to the entrance.

  Josh waits until I have unlocked the door before he steps out of the Jeep and crosses the space between us. “Logan wait.” He calls, just as he appears behind me causing me to turn and face him. “I just wanted to say I'm sorry.” He says, catching me off guard. “You know, for the way I handled everything. You were fair and I, well I was an ass.” He says, a smile pulling up one side of his mouth.

  “You don't need to apologize Josh. You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, I owe you an apology.” I say, reaching out to pat my hand against his chest, not sure why the physical contact centers me a bit.

  Josh looks down at my hand and then back into my eyes, I know the moment the decision is made but I can't seem to act quickly enough. Before I have time to react at all, Josh's lips are on mine, kissing me with so much urgency, it's like he's trying to prove something to me.

  “Josh.” I plead against his mouth, wedging my hands between us to push back hard on his chest but the action does not slow him at all. Pushing me into the glass of the door, he kisses me harder, this time skating his tongue across my lower lip causing my mouth to open on instinct.

  I don't mean to kiss him back. Hell, I don't even want to. But the moment the contact is made, I can't stop myself. I feel his hands shake as they close around my face, giving him the leverage to deepen the kiss. My mind is racing, screaming for me to stop but my body wants something else entirely. My body wants to forget. It wants to forget the invisible scars that will forever pepper my skin from the burn caused by Bentley's touch. It wants to forget who claimed it. I want to forget.

  But as much as I want to forget, I also know that pulling Josh inside and letting him have his way with me won't make me feel better tomorrow. It won't make me feel better a week from now or two weeks. I know, deep down, the only thing that will make this better is time.

  Pushing against Josh's chest more forcefully, he finally breaks away from my lips, his breathing coming out in heated spurts against my face. “I can't do this.” I say, pulling open the door giving Josh no option but to step backwards. “I'm sorry. I can't.” I say again, giving him one last look before latching the door closed and snapping the lock in place, disappearing into the darkness of the studio.

  Immediately crossing the room, I peel back the blinds and watch as Josh stands in front of the studio for a good thirty seconds before finally shaking his head and making his way back to his Jeep. I watch him climb inside and then pull away, not releasing the blinds until I see his tail lights disappear around the corner.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I spend the next day and a half holed up in the studio. I called into the club last night claiming I was sick and continued the lie by calling in again tonight. I have kept my phone off and instructed Patty under no circumstances to tell anyone where I am. Other than going home to change and get my car, I have not left.

  I know it's only a matter of time before I have to face the world again, but right now, I just don't want to. This is the first time since my injury that I feel like I have lost more than I can bare and the feeling is crippling.

  So instead of dealing with the issue head on, I do what I always do. I turn to dance. After eating my third muffin of the day from the coffee shop across the street, and changing into a long black tank and gray leggings, I make my way through the empty space, flipping on the lights to my favorite studio room as I enter. Crossing the space to the radio controls, I flip through a few songs before I finally settle on “The Heart Wants What it Wants” by Selena Gomez.

  I don't realize it until the words surround me, just how perfectly fitting this song is to my situation and as I begin to move across the floor, I can feel the emotion and pain creeping up inside of me. I know it seems ridiculous. I have only known Bentley a short time and have spent even less time actually with him, but that doesn't dull the emotion. The pull, the truth screaming back at me through my reflection in the mirror.

  None of that matters. I let him in. For the first time in my life I let someone in that has the ability to break me and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it. From that first night together I knew. I knew that something in me had changed. I fought it. I denied it. I refused to acknowledge it's existence and yet, it found me just the same.

  The truth of the song bounces off the walls around me and I put every ounce of that emotion into my moves, my technique. It's the only way I know to release it. The pain and the happiness. The hurt and the love. It's the only way I can cleanse my body of the toxins that are slowly poisoning me. The heart may want what it wants, but that doesn't mean it's what it needs.

  Tender moments with Bentley flash before my eyes. His dimple filled smile. The way he handles me with such care like I am this fragile piece of glass that will shatter if dropped. The way he touches my body, so gently but also with so much command. And the way he kisses me, so tenderly and yet so full of passion at the same time. Bentley Reed is the perfect contradiction.

  But then I see the past. The person I know he's capable of being. The person he still is. The image of him and Cora takes forefront in my mind, causing the jealously to creep back in and consume every happy memory I have, making the only thing that matters, the one thing he didn't do right.

  As much as I try to remind myself that at no point did he promise me anything, I still can't help but feel like he promised me the world and then ripped the rug out from underneath me. It has nothing to do with his money or his power. But everything to do with the man he let me see.

  I bet I am not the first girl to feel this way about him. I'm sure I am just at the end of a very long list of hearts he has broken along the way. And yet, the thought of my heart being broken confuses me more than anything. In order for him to break my heart, he would have had to possess it. But isn't that exactly what he's done?

  As the song winds down and I feel the defeat creep back in, I collapse down onto my knees and drop my head into my hands. I love him. I can't believe I didn't see it before. Me, the girl who doesn't do feelings or love, just handed her heart over to the one man that is known for breaking them.

  “Logan.” The sound of his voice echoing off the walls around me is so strong, I swear he's really here and I'm not just hearing things. Maybe I really am losing my mind. Maybe the reason I don't love is because I am incapable of handling the pain that comes along with it.

  “Logan.” I hear him again, this time realizing it's not in my head. Glancing up, I jump slightly at the sight of him in the doorway. He's watching me like he's not sure what his next move should be. Like he's afraid to step towards me and yet, the look in his eyes says that's all he wants to do.

  “How did you get in here?” I ask, quickly jumping to my feet and pulling myself together, determined not to let him see just how much this whole situation has gutted me.

  “The door was unlocked. I followed the music.” He says, apologetic. “Your
dancing. That was incredible.” He says, giving away that he has probably been standing there a lot longer than I realized.

  Crossing the room, I quickly power off the music and then start gathering my things. “I mean, I knew you could dance. Just not like that.” He says, continuing to talk when I don't respond. “I just need a minute. Please.” He says, watching me prepare to leave.

  “What?” I ask, turning to face him, for the first time really looking at him. His hair is messier than usual and there are dark circles under his eyes that I have not seen before. His white t-shirt looks like he slept in it, partnered with faded jeans, he looks like a man that simply does not care and yet, still looks like the most beautiful person in the world at the same time.

  “I know why you left Sunday.” He says, not moving from his place inside the door frame, clearly trying to eliminate my ability to walk away from the conversation.

  “Then you know why you should leave now.” I respond emotionless. Dropping my dance bag on the floor, I sit down and pull out my flip flops, kicking off my dance shoes before slipping them on.

  “It's not what it must have looked like.” He says. “Cora kissed me not the other way around. It was a last ditch effort to try to get me to change my mind. It didn't work.”

  “I'm sorry but I think you have mistaken me for someone who cares about your little girlfriends. So let me clarify. I don't care.” I say, climbing to my feet and swinging my bag over my shoulder.

  “Is that why you're avoiding me? Why you left with Josh? Because you don't care?” His voice takes on an edge I have never heard before and it's clear to see that he is battling with some issues of his own.

  “Josh drove me here because my ride was preoccupied.” I put an emphasis on the last word, making sure he recognizes my point.

  “And making out with him, was that because I was preoccupied too?” He asks, causing my stomach to knot tightly at the thought. Surely not. “You think I didn't know you were in the car with Josh? You think I didn't follow you? I knew exactly where you would go and I was right.”