LIV

 

Pasta is my saviour most days. I don’t cook much. I’m not sure if it’s because I don’t want to or that I can’t. My lack of enthusiasm means I’ve never bothered to find out. But pasta I can cook, and being a dancer is the reason that particular food has always been my saviour. I shovel the last forkful into my mouth and groan with pleasure.

“You sound like a dirty bitch,” Helena offers unhelpfully. I roll my eyes and groan louder. She stares at me with disgust. “I have no idea why coffee-house guy is obsessed with you.”

I snort. “Well, he’s been quiet for a while now.”

Her head jerks back and she wipes her cheek with her finger. “Say it, don’t spray it.”

I laugh. “I didn’t spit at you, and when did you revert to a ten-year-old?” I raise my hands. “Oh right, I forgot, you’ve always been a ten-year-old.”

Helena screws her face up at me and rises to collect our plates, putting them into the dishwasher.

“You working tonight?” she asks, and I nod.

“You?”

“No. I’m not on until Saturday night.”

“I’m back on then, too. Can I have my tat done Sunday?” I question.

“Sure,” she says distractedly.

“You okay, Hel?” I ask.

“What? Oh yeah, I’m fine.”

“You can talk to me, you know?”

Her head turns so I have her eyes and her full attention. “Sorry Liv, I have to fit some time in to go back to see my grandparents as my nan isn’t well.”

I stand, and the chair scrapes back against the floor. “What’s wrong with her?”

“It’s flu, but you know, she’s old… it’s not great with her being frail...” her words trail off.

“You know if you need me to do anything…” I say pulling her into a hug.

“Thanks, Liv,” she murmurs into my shoulder as we hold onto each other with a death grip.

 

 

Feeling slightly melancholy, I pick one of my rarer song choices Des’ree’s ‘I’m Kissing You.’ I let the words and music flow into my mind until it’s all I know, all I hear. I can almost taste the emotion of the singer. At the end of my striptease, I have no idea what movements I made, but looking down I curse realising my underwear is still in place. I was supposed to remove the bra. As a cheer goes up around the room, I’m shocked to discover there’s zero disappointment at my covered breasts. I’m not sure whether I should take offence or regard it as a compliment. Smiling, I gracefully leave the stage and enter the dressing room.

“You killed it without getting your tits out. You’re too good for this place, Olivia,” another dancer, Marianne, tells me with a devilish smile as she heads out of the room to take the stage. It’s only the two of us tonight. Usually, there are at least six girls, but one has a sick kid, two of them coincidentally have the same bug, and Scatty Sarah is running late as usual. I push my iPod into the dock, and All That Remains’ ‘What If I Was Nothing’ fills the small room. Marianne is set to do a triple slot, so I have time to unwind. I slip on my button-up cotton nightshirt and pull off my underwear. I’ll have to choose another outfit for my next dance, but for right now, I’m going to sit still and close my eyes.

“I’m here, sorry!” Sarah shouts running in and out again and scaring me in the process. I roll my eyes but then lay back and close them again, smiling, knowing my break just lengthened.

The door clicks again, but I don’t open my eyes. “Forgot something already?” I ask her.

“Yes. I forgot to tell you something yesterday.” A deep, masculine voice wraps around my body and brushes against all my nerve endings. I jump up from my chair and twist until my wide eyes meet hooded ones.

“Isaac...” I breathe out.

“I need to remind you. You belong to me, you don’t get a choice in that, Via, you never did.”

I blink. The fingers of my right hand find their way to my left bicep, and I pinch the skin. Hard. “Fuck,” I cry out.

He smiles darkly and moves toward me.

I take a step back, then another. Isaac’s eyes bore into me. With his lids lowered, I watch as his stare meets mine from under those long lashes. He moves forward again, and I realise my back’s against the wall. One twitch of his lips, and I know he’s noticed there’s nowhere for me to run. My breathing becomes shallow as I struggle to find air. I’ve always wanted him, like this —just like this—and now he’s prowling forward. I’m suspended in a fight or flight situation, as my knees get weaker by the second. Isaac takes one more step until his body is against mine. I can’t look up to see what his eyes convey. He’s taller than me by several inches, and I purposely keep facing forward, but I’m firmly pressed into his chest. His fingers curl around my chin as he gently raises my head, taking away my choice. Our eyes lock again as he glides his thumb across my bottom lip from one side to the other.

“Isaac, we shouldn’t…” I start.

“Don’t,” he growls low. “You belong to me.”

My breathing hitches and he hears it. Smirking, Isaac leans down and kisses me with a passion I didn’t know could exist between two people. He bites my bottom lip, slipping his thumb into my mouth at the same time, I immediately curl my tongue around it and suck. His eyes blaze before he lowers his head nibbling down the side of my throat until he reaches the apex of my shoulder and neck. Continuing to kiss me there, he pulls his thumb from my mouth and places both his hands on my top, threading his fingers in between the buttons, he rips the front of my nightshirt open. Then his mouth leaves me cold as he steps back.

He stands still, staring at me. Something is working behind his usually stoic surface. It seems he makes up his mind before grinning and looking at me with fire in his eyes.

“Via, you’re mine. Don’t be confused by any other guys. There is only me for you. Understand, that’s me telling you. Now, I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll think you’re still a damn virgin.”

With those words, he steps forward again grabbing me under my arms. He lifts me into the air holding me above him with a smirk. Moving us toward the table, he lowers me slowly, so I slide down his front. Before my feet hit the floor, he gently pushes me back, so I’m sitting on the table naked apart from my ripped shirt hanging from my arms.

“I’m hungry, and the only meal I see on the table is you. Let’s see how sweet you taste. Open your fucking legs,” he demands.

The door rattles, and it’s like someone throws a thousand ice lollies at my head. I yank myself away from him cursing and pulling at my ripped shirt.

“Olivia!” Sarah shouts from the other side of the door.

“She’ll be there in a minute,” Isaac growls and instantly the noise stops.

He steps toward me as I grab my joggers and hoodie from my bag and hastily throw them on. “I can’t do this,” I tell him.

His eyes are pained, and his fists clench. “We will sort this shit out, Via.”

Pulling on my UGG boots and shoving everything else into my bag, I sigh feeling my stomach shrink and expand like it’s pulling in two different directions. I take a slow step, then another until I’m toe to toe with Isaac. Dropping my head back until I can see his now sad eyes, I find his hand and give it a squeeze. “I loved you.” His fingers pulse at my words. “But you broke me.” I try to tug my hand from his, but he holds on tighter.

“I’ll fix what I broke, I swear. If it’s the last thing I do,” he tells me before letting my limp hand fall. I watch as he strides to the door and unlocks it. Brushing past Sarah, her mouth drops open at the sight of him, and I can’t blame her. There is a chill on my skin now. I think I might have just pierced Isaac’s tough exterior.