The club is thumping.

DJ Zee is finishing up his set as I walk in and smile at the bouncer inside the door.

“Hey, man.” I give him a high five and then pull him in for a man hug.

“What’s happenin’, Cai? You not playing tonight?”

“Nah, just here for Mario’s show.”

“Nice. He should be up in the next hour.” The beefy bouncer raises his eyebrows at me as I slide past him.

A ton of people are on the dance floor. I take in the waving arms and gyrating bodies. It’s a sea of motion that surges in time with the beat.

My body wants to move with it and I sway to the bar, the heavy rhythm controlling me. I’m not after a drink; I just want a good spot I can see the main entrance from.

I’m probably wasting my time. Max seemed kind of set on not coming, even though I practically begged her.

I was so close to turning up on her doorstep anyway. I even drove past her street on my way here. But I didn’t want to betray her trust. It already feels like this fragile thing and I don’t want to screw it up.

Resting my back against the bar, I lean my elbows on the edge and scan the room. The strobe lights kick in for a second, blending with the beat to create this manic magic. DJ Zee always knows how to finish well–“Bomba” by Deorro. It’s a sick beat that’s impossible not to move to.

I grin, loving the vibe pulsing through this place.

“You want a drink, Cai?” the bartender yells at me.

I spin and smile at her. “Nah, I’m good, Cleo. Thanks.”

“Well, if you want a soda or some agua, just let me know. First one’s on the house.” She winks at me like she always does and I thank her with an eyebrow raise.

She knows better than to serve me alcohol. Unlike some of the clubs we play at, Matrix has some pretty strict rules. If you’re underage, you don’t get stamped. No stamp equals no drink.

Luisa and Donny Garcia own this place, and they’ve always been really supportive of Velocity and promoting indie music and bands that are trying to make a name for themselves. I search the crowd and spot Luisa doing her usual rounds. She always comes out on Saturday night—her lips painted red, a cheesy smile in place. She’s like a PR queen. It’s borderline cringe-worthy and reminds me a little of Mayor Carter. People like that tell you what you want to hear in the hopes you won’t see through their bullshit.

Not that I think Luisa is completely bullshit. She’s done some really awesome stuff with this club, and I will always adore her for letting Velocity play here.

She laughs at something some guy in a suit just said to her, lightly touching his arm and making him feel like the king of the world. She’s in her usual stilettos and skintight dress. The woman knows how to work it. She’ll circulate the room, checking in with all the important people before disappearing out back, leaving a trail of hungry eyes and longing hearts in her wake.

Glancing away from her, I check the entrance again, then start spinning the ring on my index finger as I settle in to enjoy the show.

Except I can’t, because Max isn’t here and I really want her to be.

She’d love this.

“All right, all right, fellas…and my ladies…” DJ Zee stirs up a cheer. “I’ll be wrapping this up to make way for the mighty Mario!”

The cheers rise in a crescendo.

“Hang tight for five. Grab yourself a drink. And here’s a little sugar while you’re waitin’.”

“Symphony” by Clean Bandit kicks in and I grin.

I love this song.

It makes me think of Max. She’s like a symphony—a complex composition filled with layers and undertones. I’m still trying to work out each note and beat, and as frustrating as it can be, it’s also thrilling.

A smile is firmly plastered on my lips as I get lost in the music while images of Max float through my mind.

I’m so distracted I don’t even notice the short brunette approaching until she’s right on me, laying her hand on my chest and poking her tongue out the side of her mouth.

Why do girls think that’s sexy?

“Uh…” I gently peel her hand off me and take a step back.

“I’m Nadia.”

“Hey.” I keep my voice short and train my eyes on something in the corner of the room. If I act chilly enough, she might get my drift and move on.

“You’re Cairo, right? I saw you playing here a couple of weeks ago.” Her hand returns to my chest, her finger snaking between the buttons of my shirt.

Seriously!

“You were really good.” Her eyes dip and then ping back to my face.

She’s going for sultry.

It’s working. She looks really hot…but I’m not into sultry.

I swallow as she inches so close her thigh is pressing against mine.

“You looked super sexy.”

“Thanks.” I lean away from her.

“And now you’re here, all alone.” She bites her bottom lip, dragging her teeth across the gloss before grinning at me. “I’ll dance with you.”

“I’m not looking for a dance right now.” I nudge her away and try to make a break for the door.

This always happens. Unless someone is already hanging off me, they go in for the kill.

It’s not like I can push them away and tell them to piss off. That would go over well—the lead singer of Velocity is an asshole to women. Great. Just the kind of press we need.

I go to move away, figuring I can lose her in the dance crowd, but she grabs my wrist and suctions herself against me again.

Gripping the back of my neck, she rises to her tiptoes. Her boobs squish into my arm as she whispers in my ear. “Maybe you’re looking for something else.”

Before I can stop her, she grabs my face and plants her lips on mine.