My eyes roam over the sea of gyrating bodies on the dance floor below the VIP balcony of Omar’s newest venture, Tattoo. I’m the face of the new advertising campaign that he’s launching next month. It’s my first ever. We thought it’d be nice to have my graduation party here and get people excited about our collaboration.

I hadn’t considered that Apollo would be here. It didn’t matter that the party started at 5 p.m. As soon as word got out that The Four Horsemen were in one place at once, every woman in Los Angeles would be in here dressed like it was midnight on Friday.

“Man, this Fifty Shades of Grey shit is killing my vibe.” Dave leans over to shout in my ear. I pulled back from him, wincing at the vibration his voice let loose on my eardrum.

“Why are you screaming in my ear? The music’s not even that loud up here.” I scoot away from him. He ignores me completely and moves closer to me. “I can’t believe I’m wearing a fucking suit tonight,” he says, throwing back his bourbon and tugging at the tight-fitting sleeves of his suit jacket.

“I haven’t had to work this hard to get pussy since before my growth spurt when I was thirteen. That fucker Grey’s not even fucking real, man, and suddenly, we’re all trying to fucking look like him.”

“Do you think that maybe you have to work hard for pussy because you curse like a fucking sailor?”

“Girls love a guy who says ‘fuck.’ All that gentlemanly shit you play at is out. Girls want an alpha. Not some pussy who says ‘please’ and calls her ‘sweetheart.’”

“Yeah,” I scoff at him. “Says the man who calls women ‘girls’.” I roll my eyes.

“Yeah, well you can act like you’re a gentleman, Graham. But only one of us has a ‘PussyPhone.’”

Just then, the phone he referenced lights up. My stomach tightens when I see Nanette’s calling. I send it to voice mail.

I take a sip of my gin and tonic and grimace at the bite of it. I never drink. But tonight, I need all the help I can get. Everything is such a mess.

I feel sick to my stomach when I remember Apollo’s face when she saw Nanette at the restaurant last night. I couldn’t even look at her. She’d left without saying goodbye. I didn’t blame her. I fucking hate Nanette, but she’s got me by the balls.

I look back at Dave and find his attention has moved back to the dancers. And that his eyes are trained on the one person he shouldn’t ever look at. Not like that.

“Get your filthy fucking eyes off her.” I lean down and murmur in his ear. He throws his head back and laughs.

Her dark, pin straight hair falls to her waist, flies behind her like floating raven’s wings. The same way it had looked the first time I saw her.

In the lighting of the club, they glitter like polished chips of onyx as she twirls across the dance floor with some motherfucker whose hands are hovering too close to her ass.

She turns, and her sharp, high cheekbones come into focus. A second later, she whirls again, and this time I get the full, breath seizing view of a heartshaped face that is punctuated by a dimple in the middle of her softly pointed chin.

She’s laughing. Her berry stained lips part to reveal generous pink gum and her small perfectly straight white teeth that gleam as the flashing lights above slide over them. Every time I see it, that enchanting smile launches a thousand dreams in my heart. Tonight, I push them back down.

She came, but I know it’s not because she wants to congratulate me. She hasn’t looked at me since our eyes met when I was walking across the stage.

“Yeah, you get your filthy fucking eyes off her first.” Dave’s amused whisper doesn’t bother me. Between him, Reece and Omar, we’re the closest. He knows more than anyone else what my life is really like. He doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body, and he’s the least judgmental person I know. Maybe it’s because he’s stoned all the time. Or maybe, it’s that he has a very off kilter moral compass when it comes to sex, women and life in general.

He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as he continues to observe Apollo. “She’s fucking mesmerizing. I don’t understand why she’s not famous or something.”

“She doesn’t want to be famous. She’s going to study art. And you need to stop watching her like that,” I repeat, this time pulling my own eyes away. I can’t ever let Apollo catch me looking at her. Because I know she feels the same way. But I’m not free to give her what she wants. Not now.

Apollo is my other half. The part of me that’s good and happy. I have to believe I can still reclaim that. Even after everything I’ve done.

The shitbag she’s dancing with leans down, whispers in her ear, and runs a finger down her shoulder. My stomach tightens with anger and jealousy at the way she leans into him and smiles.

I stand up and look down at my friends. Omar’s got a girl on his lap and another tucked into his side. I curl my lip in disgust at him. He’s going to be pissed when he wakes up tomorrow. I lean down and whisper in his ear, “Stop drowning your sorrows in pussy, man.”

“Shut the fuck up, Graham,” he says, shoving me away with his shoulder. I laugh because I know he knows I’m right.

Reece’s eyes are glued to his BlackBerry, his eyes darting back and forth reading emails or reports or whatever. This guy is a workaholic in a way that I think was unhealthy. But, I know that work is how he escapes the drama he has with his wife. I would say bye, but he likely wouldn’t remember it later anyway.

I look back at Dave. “I’ll call you. Let’s wreak a little havoc before you leave for NYC.”

He stands up. “Of course. I’m always down for whatever.” His eyes are uncharacteristically serious as we face each other.

“I don’t know what you’re doing with that blonde viper, man. But, don’t fuck things up with Apollo. You’ll never, ever do better than her.” His words are punch to my gut and I glance over my shoulder to where she’s dancing.

When I look back at him, his usual easy-going expression is back. He gives me a lopsided, conspiratorial grin, “Fuck her before she leaves; that’ll fix everything. I’m going to the bar.”

After a two fingered salute, he steps around me and disappears into the crowd.

I pick up Reece’s untouched glass of Patrón. He doesn’t drink, but he always orders a shot that he keeps propped in front of him. It keeps the servers from asking him if he’d like a refill. He’s still absorbed in whatever he’s reading and doesn’t look up as I throw back his drink.

I wipe away a splash that landed on my chin and then walk to the dance floor.

Dave’s jibe about fucking Apollo isn’t a new one. I always ignore him even though just those two words in the same sentence send blood rushing straight to my dick. I ignore it. I have sworn that I won’t let myself think of her that way until I don’t ever have to touch anyone else again.

When I reach Apollo, her back is to me. I run a hand up her side, my hand spanning her stomach as I pull her to me.

She falls backward and lands on my chest, and I wish I had the right to hold her there. But I don’t. So, I step back. The guy she was dancing with looks like he’s about to protest, but all it takes is a quirk of my eyebrow for him to think better of it.

He saunters off, and in less than two paces has attached himself to another woman.

Asshole.

“Hey,” Apollo turns to face me. She beams up at me, her eyes smiling, and I’m so surprised I don’t respond right away.

“This is fun, right?” she shouts over the music, grinning as she looks around the crowded room.

“Not really. You ready to leave?” I ask and hope I don’t look as nervous as I feel.

“Sure, why not?” She says with a noncommittal shrug. That’s a good enough answer for me.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. I grab her hand and pull her off the dance floor. When we get to the edge of the crowd, she tugs my hand, and I stop to look back at her.

“Thanks for cutting in back there; he couldn’t seem to take a hint,” she says as she pulls up the straps of her skimpy little tank top. I watch the slide of her fingertips over that bronze, smooth a silk skin, and my fingers itch to touch.

Just a little.

I stick my hands in my pockets and raise a skeptical eyebrow at her.

“Yeah. I guess he didn’t know that your flirtatious laughter and hair flipping meant you weren’t interested.”

“I was not flirting with him. I was dancing, and he did say something funny …” she taps her chin for a minute before a cute as fuck frown pushes her lips downward. “But, I can’t remember.” She throws her head to the side a little and giggles delightedly.

“Sunshine, are you … drunk?” I ask as I look closely at her.

She nods and then her head falls back, her mouth wide open as she laughs—boisterously.

“Oh, God, no wonder,” I say with a dry chuckle. I lead her around a seating area and then into the kitchen. Since my Instagram fame has grown, I can’t leave clubs through the front door anymore. As we walk, I pull out my phone and order a car from a service I’ve just started using.

A couple of waiters are reaching into their pockets as I make my way to the back door. I stop and reach into my pocket for my beanie

“You know … a guy wearing a ski cap in June in Los Angeles might not be the best choice if you’re trying to escape people’s notice,” she quips as I slip it on my head.

We walk into the alley, and I see the headlights of the car I called at the other end. I put an arm around Apollo, and she leans into me. Her weight feels so good and I walk slower than normal as we approach the waiting car.

“I may not be beautiful enough for you, but I was beautiful enough for the boy I let kiss me tonight,” she says in a slurred, drowsy tone.

Her words hit me with the force of a fist slamming into the center of my chest and suck the air from my lungs. And I stop us and turn her to face me.

“What did you say?” I ask, disbelief clear as day on my face. My tone daring her to repeat it.

She sees my dare and doubles it. “You heard me, Graham, and I let him touch my tits.” She says each word slowly, her expression challenging as she leers drunkenly at me. “Just ‘cause you don’t want to kiss me doesn’t mean no one else does.” She sticks her tongue out, slips out of my grasp and saunters to the cab. By the time I catch up, she’s opening the cab’s back door. I put my hand on the door and still her movement. She looks up at me. “What are you doing?” she asks and yanks the door again.

“You kissed someone tonight? In that club? While I was there?”

“Yup.” She says with a proud smile. My hand drops from the door, and she slides in. I don’t know whether to be angry or sad. I can’t fucking think. I just stand and stare at the open door and try to get a hold on my emotions. The window of the front passenger’s side rolls down, and the driver yells out, “You getting in?”

“Yeah, sorry.” I climb in next to her, and as soon as I shut the door, he pulls away.

She scoots all the way to the other end of the car. Kicks her shoes off and tucks her feet underneath her. And then, she proceeds to blow my mind.

She leans forward and taps the driver on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir”

“Yes, miss?” he asks without taking his eyes off the road.

“Did you know that he’s a hero?” She points at me with mock excitement.

“Really? That’s impressive,” he says cheerily.

“He saved my life once,” she tells him.

“Ugh. Sunshine that’s enough,” I groan. 

“It’s true. You did. Don’t be shy, Grahamstar.” She shakes her head and smiles at me like I’m a naughty child. But the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Oh, shit. She’s angry. She turns back to the driver. “I mean, I helped save him, too. I’m his cape,” she says with a self-affirming nod.

“Like, Batman’s cape?” he asks, and I do a double take. Is he really engaging in this crazy conversation with Apollo?

“Yup. Just like that. What, after all, would they be without their capes?” she asks rhetorically.

“Well, Batman’s still got that batmobile,” he says.

She shrugs and concedes with a nod. “You’re right. Maybe the cape isn’t the sexiest part of their whole getup.” She turns to look at me, all pretense of her smile is gone. Her eyes are cool. “But without their capes, they can’t fly.”

Fuck.

Our driver, completely oblivious to what’s happening in the back seat says, “Well, then, Ms. Cape, I hope your hero here knows how lucky he is that he has you to give him wings.”

I groan. “Okay, can we stop talking about me like I’m not here?” I say and run my hands down my face. 

“Yup, I’m done,” she says and yawns. She scoots over to me, tips her head so it rests on shoulder and says, “I’m tired. I need a nap.” Then, she shuts her eyes.

I just stare straight ahead and try to figure out how to turn back time. If everything I’ve done has lead me to this sickening moment, I want to take it back. The thought of someone else touching her lips, her body, makes me physically ill. Her little metaphor with the cape … she’s telling me I’m going to have to learn how to live without her. The thought is unbearable.

What the fuck have I done? I have no right to feel any of this. I forfeited it the minute I said yes to Nanette.

What a fool I’ve been to think that I could ever have her back after what I’d done. It wasn’t just sex. It all meant something. And I’d given away what should have been hers. Just as I think of her and that kiss she gave away as mine.

“Is that your lady?” the cab driver asks, and I blink at him in confusion, my mind is all over the place.

“The cape … she yours?” he asks again. I look down at her. Her mouth is open, and her eyes are closed. She’s not snoring, but I can tell she’s asleep. So, I tell him the lie I wish was true.

“Yeah, she is.” I nod.

“She’s beautiful. And funny,” he says.

I nod. “She’s the most beautiful person I know. Inside and out. She’s my superpower.”

“Nice, man,” he says appreciatively. “Sounds like she’s loyal, too. You need to keep hold of her,” he says sagely. How I wish I could.

I nuzzle her hair, press a kiss to her temple and stifle a groan as the scent of strawberries fills my nose. I lower my head so that my lips are pressed against her ear. “Loving you is my wildest dream.”

“Really?” Her head pops up, and she’s staring into my eyes. I can’t lie. Not now. She’s probably not going to remember any of this anyway.

“Really,” I admit.

“Oh, God, Graham.” She blinks up at me, her eyes wide with confusion as she scans my face. I let her see everything I work so hard to hide. On a moan, she closes her eyes and drops her head onto my shoulder. “Whyyyy did I drink tonight? I’m so fucking drunk, my head is spinning,” she moans, her warm breath dampening the fabric of my shirt.

I make a mental note to never wash it again.

I stroke the back of her neck. The supple, soft skin reminds me of how vulnerable, young, and impossibly special Apollo is.

If I acted on how I felt now, she would hate me afterward. So, I won’t. No matter how tempted I am. No matter how much she thinks she wants me to.

She starts to snore softly, and I let my head rest on the back of my seat. The dark in the car is punctuated by the blue light from the car’s audio system and the glare of headlights that bounce off the rearview mirror as they pass by.