Ripped (Real, #5)(38)

“How do you guys do it?” I wonder out loud as Mackenna and I watch the Vikings grin at us. “Perform before all those people.” I gesture toward the stage and all the empty seats surrounding it.

He shrugs. “Lex throws up before going up, every time. Jax gets stoned. And me?” He shrugs. “I have a special trick I do.”

“Like what?”

“I tell myself no one out there is you.”

“Really? That’s your trick? So, I’m your jinx, and you’re just relieved I’m not watching.”

He laughs as he heads to his dressing room.

“Hey! Where are you going? We’re having a talk here!” I protest.

“I need to shower, Pink. Look me up later, though, and I’ll be happy to explain,” he says, but something about his gaze tells me he’d like to do more than explain.

For the next hour, movements of all kinds wreak havoc in my stomach.

I tell myself he wanted to get the best of me, or bait me like he baits the Vikings. He’s a pirate luring me into his lair, but I won’t fall into his trap. Who cares what he meant?

But later at the hotel, I’m wandering out in the hall, unsure of which room he’s in, when the delightful Tit and Liv walk by. “You looking for Kenna?” they ask, wearing identical ear-to-ear grins.

Fuck.

“No.”

“Oh. Really?” Liv hooks her arm around mine and spins around, taking me in another direction. “Then want to come to our room? We’re going to watch a movie.”

“I’m a little sore.” I try to pull free.

“Oh, no worries! I’ve got stuff to help with that.”

Since I am sore from this morning’s dance lesson, I bite back my retort and let her lead me into their shared bedroom. The “stuff” she has is an ice pack, and I squirm as she presses it against the muscle above my knee. “Oh, don’t groan and be a boy about it,” she shushes. “The guys are the only ones that complain.”

I go still and frown.

“We sometimes let the boys borrow our packs when they overdo their workouts. Gym every three days. They dead lift and do all kinds of other things.”

“How long have you been dancing for them?” I ask, genuinely curious. They all seem to be friends, but clearly the girls sleep with the men too.

“Me, four years. Tit, two. We love it here.”

“I bet.” I study them. I’m searching for any traces of guilt in Olivia’s eyes, but I can’t quite decipher it. I’m so used to the transparency of Melanie and Brooke. The honesty of real friends. But then again, I’m used to my mother. Closed off. These girls are just like her, and there’s only one way to deal with this sort of people—from a distance. Failing that, you have to be up front. “Why are you being nice to me right now?”

They laugh in unison, exchanging glances. “Oh, don’t be silly. We don’t want you as an enemy. We want to be sure you’re not messing with Kenna.”

“You think you’re protecting him from me? That’s absurd.”

“Is it?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, we don’t know.” Now it’s Tit talking, tapping one manicured nail to her lips—painted in the exact same shade as Liv’s. “Since you arrived, Kenna’s done nothing but stare at you, walk next to you, sit next to you, and sniff around you like some dog with a new bone.”

“He’ll go find another bone soon.”

“Will he?” It’s Olivia again. “Because, can I just say, we’ve talked to the other girls, ones who’ve been with the band even longer, and he doesn’t do that. Women come to Kenna. He doesn’t go to anyone, he’s got like legions. So yeah, we’re concerned. What’s the deal with you two?”

I shrug. “He’s my ex. We have a past. A past which means I hate him—as you’re supposed to hate an ex.”

“But you were dancing with Yola like you wanted to make out. You were imagining she was Kenna.” The words weren’t a question so much as an accusation.

“I . . .” Since there’s really no point in denying the way I got lost in that stupid dance, I shut my mouth.

“One of the camera guys said you two shared a room the other night. That true?” Tit presses.

“Wow, is this high school?”

There’s a camera positioned on a stand in the corner of the room, almost like a live predator, waiting to trap my answer. For a fraction of a second, I want to leave, but I want the information I can garner from these girls too.

“We slept together,” I whisper, really low, “but . . .”

“You guys did it! We knew you had. Those smoldering looks he gives you must be multiplied times five in the bedroom, huh!”

“Oh, no.” I glance back at the stupid camera, suddenly a little too vulnerable. Admit that he didn’t have his way with me? That he didn’t touch me like that? I suddenly don’t want them to know if he did or didn’t. Mackenna is my secret again and I don’t want to share anything about him with anyone.

I get to my feet.

“Good night, girls. Next time let’s get together in my room. I’ve got a little thing that you don’t—it’s called privacy.”