It’s in the moments you allow yourself to feel something, nothing can hold you back. That’s what happens to me when I dance. Since I was little, being from an overly privileged family, I was sent off to ballet lessons. My mother said all little girls had to do it. As I got older, I filled out, got curves, and I hated those damn classical music snippets we had to dance to.

The day after I quit, I found myself following Preston to his secret meeting place. I didn’t know what he and his friends did there, but something told me he was up to no good. And I was right. He was drinking, smoking, and I would’ve told on him, if I thought my parents would care.

When Preston saw me skulking in the shadows, he called me out. That was the moment I found the two things I’d love for the rest of my life.

Hip hop dancing and Ryder Kingsley.

I was fourteen at the time and he was the forbidden older boy and brother’s best friend, yet all I could do was think about him kissing me. I wasn’t stupid to think a boy—scratch that, a man of seventeen, would want anything to do with a kid.

He was everything, with those deep hazel green eyes, full dusty rose-colored lips that had a small, silver ring pierced through the lower corner of his mouth. He had messy black hair and ink adorned his body, arms, chest, and back. With lean muscles, he was tall and overshadowed me each time he was near.

His smile.

That’s what stole my attention. Bright, with slight dimples in either cheek. I later learned he was indeed the boy who’d grown up too soon. The boy who became the man who did what he wanted, after his father had forbidden him to do something he loved more than breathing. With a mother who could only love him to a certain extent, he focused on the one thing that made him gift me that smile—dancing.

He was alluring.

He was breathtaking.

He was perfect.

But I learned soon enough, he was flawed too.

Just like me.

It’s how I always saw myself. The tomboy dressed in jeans and Chucks.

But each time my parents took me from his world and shoved me into theirs my heart shattered. My long blond hair was styled in a perfect chignon, my curves were draped in the finest silk, satin, and lace. It was my mother’s dream as she played dress-up doll with her daughter for the world to see. She wanted me to attend all the formal dinners, dances, and every other party her friends told her about.

She would huff and complain when I mentioned a dance competition. She’d even scream and shout because I wouldn’t go shopping at the most expensive boutiques. All the while I was growing up, I was torn in two.

Perfect in my world of skater shoes and sweatpants.

Flawed in the world of ballet lessons and fancy dresses.

That is, until I stumbled upon Ryder.

Somehow, we made sense. We didn’t date, we didn’t profess undying love to each other, but we did become friends. I couldn’t explain why, or how, but he saw me. Not the glossed-up doll my parents wanted to parade around to all their friends. He saw the girl who wanted to dance and be seen as more than the polished ballerina that her so called friends saw her as.

We became comfortable, teacher and student. Friends. And that was all Ryder could offer me, or I could give him.

Nobody noticed when our friendship turned to something more. My brother was too focused on his girlfriend, smoking pot, and drinking until he passed out. Even though I was crushing hard on his best friend, my brother, didn’t care. My parents were far too busy in their own lives to see what was right in front of them. Their innocent little girl was growing up.

When I turned fifteen, my folks finally accepted who I wanted to be. Not a ballerina, but a street dancer. However, with each comment my mother made, I knew she wasn’t happy. I still went to fancy dinners, but I was also allowed to go to the warehouse to dance.

I spent every waking moment around Ryder. Even with my brother around, Ryder would find some way for us to sneak off somewhere, telling me to meet him out back where there weren’t any prying eyes. When he looked at me, something changed, shifted inside me, and I was more confident in who I was.

And when he spoke to me in hushed whispers of how one day he was going to kiss me until I couldn’t breathe, his words were engraved on my heart. It was then I knew he would always be there.

Ryder’s hazel green eyes were something magical. It was as if he was trying to steal my breath with a single glance. And with those orbs that looked like leaves that just started turning on an autumn afternoon, I knew then I’d let him take anything he wanted.

It reminds me of the day I first saw him. The day my life changed forever. It was the moment Ryder Kingsley would burrow his way into my soul and forever be etched like a tattoo on my skin.

“What are you doing here, Pip?” Preston smirks, strolling over to me.

He’s flanked by two boys who look the same age as him. My stomach twists with anxiety. I shouldn’t have followed him, but I needed to see where he went every evening. The cigarette that hangs from his lips burns as the white smoke trickles up to the sky. My brother’s blue eyes pin me to the spot and I’m paralyzed.

“I… Uhm…”

“Want to play with the big boys, little sis?” he taunts. “Jeremiah, Ryder,” he smirks at the two boys, “this is my kid sister.”

“Hey little girl, I’m Jer,” the taller boy without tattoos says. “Maybe I can teach you to bounce,” Jeremiah chuckles, rolling his hips in a sordid motion that can mean only one thing. I can’t suppress the shudder that travels through me.

“Like fuck you will,” Preston grunts, then pulls on the stick in his mouth. With two fingers, he pinches the object, holding it out toward me.

“No, it’s gross,” I respond, suddenly sounding much younger than I am.

All three of them laugh at me, but it’s Ryder’s cruel gaze that causes me pain. My brother has been mean to me all my life. That’s not new. But these friends of his have never come by the house and I know why. If my folks saw their tattoos and piercings, they’d have a fit. And knowing my brother is smoking, I know for a fact Dad would take back the fancy car he got when he turned eighteen.

“Ryder, get her out of here. I have practice.” Preston turns and saunters away from me, leaving his friend with the pretty eyes watching me like a hawk.

“What does he do here?” I ask the stranger who I now know is called Ryder. I haven't seen him before because I would’ve remembered someone so handsome.

He’s tall. The vest he’s wearing shows off his muscles and although they’re not huge like some of those disgusting bodybuilders, he looks strong. Manly. The ink all over his arms and shoulders intrigues me and I catch myself staring at him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he grunts, lifting a cigarette I didn’t notice earlier to his lips.

My eyes are glued to his lips as they wrap around the thin white stick. His cheeks puff in as he takes a pull. The smoke doesn’t come out for a long time, then he rounds his lips into an O and puffs gray circles into the air.

“I want to know what my brother is doing here,” I tell him.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he walks by me and heads down to a black Chevy truck sitting in the parking lot of the skate park. He wrenches the passenger door open and turns to me. “Get in, Piper,” he says smoothly.

“How do you know my name?”

“Everyone knows who you are,” he tells me, shutting the door once I’m inside.

I watch him round the front of the truck and slip in beside me. The engine roars to life and soon, we’re on our way. His hands tap the steering wheel to the song, but I can’t take my eyes off him while he weaves us through the traffic. We’re not far from the house. I could’ve easily walked home, but all I wanted to do was spend time around this man who’s gained my interest.

“I guess with a brother like Pres everyone does know me.” My voice drops sadly, and I glance out of the window as we pull into the drive.

“Hey,” Ryder says then. “Chin up, little one, things aren’t always what they seem.”

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly, the movement causing his cheek to dip, and there before my eyes is a dimple. His eyes brighten at the movement. Raising his hand, he takes a lock of my golden hair and twirls it around his finger.

“Be careful of wolves, little one,” he says, causing a cold shiver to skitter over my skin. Gently, he tucks the strands behind my ear. The tender touch of his fingertips on my flesh leaves goose bumps in their wake.

It’s the wolf who should be scared of the girl, I think to myself.

“I’m not scared of anything,” I voice my response, but my tone is raspy, filled with nerves. My words earn me a grin and I’m bedazzled. He’s otherworldly. The raven color hair on his head is disheveled. His tanned skin makes the greenish brown of his eyes even more striking. But when his lips part on a smile, nothing could’ve prepared me for it.

And in his truck, at the tender age of fourteen, I know for sure he’ll be the first boy to break my heart.

I drag myself from the memory of the initial meeting I had with Ryder, the first time he ever touched me. When I felt the butterflies awaken in my stomach, it was something I’d never experienced before in my life. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was the smallest moments we’d shared that would remain in my mind as I got older, and which, later in life, brought me to my first self-induced orgasm.

After that first time when I was seventeen, I was hooked. I chased the feeling constantly. I needed it, craved it. Each time I was in the shower, I’d trail my fingers down between my legs and I’d picture Ryder, his smile, his eyes, and the way he would always saunter with confidence through our house when he visited.

That night in his truck something inside me changed. When Pres came home, I asked him what he did at the park. When he told me he danced, I laughed, but he showed me his moves, and I was hooked. I begged and pleaded for him to teach me, to let me spend time around them, and one day he finally relented.

For months, I spent time at the skate park with them dancing. And I loved it. After a year of seeing Ryder every day, being near him, it became clear there was a certain tension between us. It wasn’t just me, because I recall he almost kissed me one day. We’d been doing a hand spin I couldn’t get right. The moment I fell, he was there, lifting me up. Our bodies pressed tightly against each other, leaving me breathless.

I stupidly closed my eyes like they do in the movies, but the moment was gone when my brother sauntered up to us, chuckling loudly. He didn’t notice the way Ryder and I were standing. He wouldn’t have noticed if his best friend had me pinned down and began humping me. Ryder, however, was adamant that we were just friends. He made it clear when I asked him to teach me, telling me he would, and it would be as a friend. Nothing like getting your teenage heart trampled on before it had room to fly.

But something changed that night. I don’t know what it was. The next day, Preston announced the three of them—he, Jeremiah, and Ryder—were moving out of their childhood homes and heading to finish their degrees in the city.

And that’s when Ryder left me with a promise he didn’t keep. It took me a while to get over, and even now, I don’t think I truly am. I know I still love him, because I’ll always love him.

Opening my eyes, I notice the sun has disappeared. There are thick gray clouds in the sky, hanging heavy with the promise of rain. Maybe even a thunderstorm. The house is quiet. There’s never been a better time to be home than when my parents decide to go on their month-long vacations.

I watch as it gets darker with the impending storm. I love sitting out on the back porch. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths. I’m lost in thoughts when a thud of the front door sounds, dragging me from my solace and back to reality.

“Pip!” My brother’s voice comes from somewhere in our mansion. The place is bigger than a goddamn palace. “Where are you?”

“Out here,” I call back to him. He’s always called me Pip instead of my full name, which is Piper. At twenty, I’m no longer a child, but there are times I think of Ryder and I still get a flurry of butterflies in my stomach, which still makes me feel far too young to want him.

Preston’s heavy combat boots thud behind me and I turn to find my older brother standing in the doorway.

“What’s up, little pip?” He chuckles.

Did I mention my brother is an asshole?

“Nothing. Why are you home, Preston?” I question, rising to my feet. When I turn to face him fully, I realize he’s not alone. Behind him are two other dark, brooding assholes. My brother’s best friends. My breathing hitches in my throat when my eyes meet the familiar hazel green set that’s staring back at me with pure venom.

Preston stalks outside, joining me on the patio along with Ryder and Jeremiah. Since I was fourteen I’d crushed on Ryder. His eyes that reminded me of leaves on the cusp of autumn, turning from green to brown. The way his smile tilted just enough to show off a dimple in his left cheek. The silver studs that adorned his lip and the one in his tongue always made me tingle and I wondered if he was pierced anywhere else.

“We’re here to babysit you, little sister,” Preston taunts me. Since he’s three years older than me, he’s always made it known that I was a mistake. He never had time for me when I was younger. He’d always leave me with Ryder and disappear with one of the many girls he had hanging off his arm.

“I’m old enough to take care of myself,” I bite back, folding my arms in front of my chest. My gaze darts between the three, but it’s those intense eyes of Ryder’s that cause me to shudder when I notice they’re pinned on my chest.

I stalk by him, slamming into his shoulder as I do, but his hand flies out to grip my arm. “Don’t be bratty. I’m home. Deal with it,” he tells me. All I can do is nod. Once he releases me, I head into the house and up the stairs to the safety of my bedroom. No doubt that tonight they’ll throw a huge party and I’ll be stuck in my room once more.

Shoving my shorts off, I step out of them and into a pair of gray sweatpants. If there’s one thing my brother did right by me was to introduce me to dancing. Hip hop, to be exact. The love I found there, amongst the other dancers, was something I’d never had, not even from my parents.

I’m racing out of my door when I slam into something solid which knocks me on my ass. I yelp when my wrist twists catching my fall. Lifting my gaze, I’m met with the glare of Ryder Kingsley.

“Careful, little pip,” he grunts out in a tone that’s laced with frustration. “You shouldn’t be running around without watching where you’re going. You never know if the wolf will be there to catch you.” The last few words bring a sinful smirk to his lips and I feel my nipples harden in response. He’s had this effect on me for far too long. But since he returned he’s been acting like I’m shit on his shoe. It’s been years since he first walked into my life and stole my teenage heart.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t allow animals in my house,” I bite back my response.

Suddenly, his hand jerks out, grips me by the hoodie I’m wearing, and hefts me up onto my feet. Our bodies are close, too close for me to think straight, or even breathe.

“Maybe I like to be here. To see how angry you are with me,” he tells me, his head tipping to the side as he hisses darkly into my face. “Remember what I told you. I fuck everything up. So, stop looking at me like I’m your world. What we had… it’s in the past.”

Anger simmers through me and I lift my chin in indignation. “That’s the problem with you, Ryder, you’re overly confident in what you achieve. You left once and I know you’ll leave again. You were never my world.” My words cause him to flinch, and I know I’ve hurt him. It’s the slightest movement, but I see it. I see him. I’ve always seen him. “When you walked out and broke every promise you made me, you took every ounce of respect I had for you.” My response causes him to chuckle.

His grip on my clothes doesn’t relent. He leans in, his nose running along my cheek. The softness of the contact and the harshness of his hold cause my body to react like it usually does when he’s around and goose bumps rise on every inch of my skin. “You should be scared of the big bad wolf, Butterfly. He likes to bite,” he utters, then releases me, shoving me backward till my back hits the wall.

Emotion flits across his eyes, then he’s gone, leaving me with a heart hammering wildly in my chest. What just happened?