The Sweetest Oblivion (Made, #1)(24)

My cousin sighed and ran a hand through his dark, gelled-back hair. “As a woman, Elena, how would you interpret that text?”

I paused. “Well, I think it means she doesn’t want to see you anymore.”

“And that includes sex?”

“Yep.”

He frowned. “Dammit.”

“Double-Ds?”

“Yeah,” he said sadly.

I copied his tone. “Shame.”

He pulled up to the curb outside the theater, reached across me, and pushed the door open. “Go kill it, cuz. Be back at nine.”

“Thanks.” I hopped out of the car and grabbed my duffel bag from the backseat.

“Elena.” Benito’s expression was serious as he leaned over and stretched his arm across the passenger seat headrest. “You think her text applies to oral, too?”

I rolled my eyes. “God, you’re disgusting.”

He grinned. “Break a leg!”

With my bag over my shoulder, I headed inside and said hello to a few other dancers on the way. It wasn’t a large theater, but it was upscale—like my papà would ever allow me to dance in a hole in the wall. Sparkling lights, cream walls, and gold and red accents. It was a beautiful auditorium. I loved the flash of it all: the makeup, the dress, the friendships I’d gained—as shallow as they were—but for me, dance was merely a great form of exercise. The small amount of passion I’d once held for it was fading away, and I wasn’t sure how long I’d continue with it.

A brush of air rushed over me, followed by a deep voice. “Say you’ll go out with me.”

Without looking at the man matching my steps, I shook my head, a smile pulling on my lips. “No.”

“Sushi?”

I wrinkled my nose.

“Okay, no sushi. Italian?”

“Ha ha,” I laughed.

“Are you coming tomorrow?”

Tyler was lean, like most dancers were, with dirty blond hair and a crooked smile. He was cute, polite, but not my type. He was a friend who wanted more, and for his sake I’d never let anything happen. I’d learned my lesson.

Sometimes I wondered how he would react if I told him the truth about my family. I doubted he’d still ask me out every time he saw me. Anyone could put together who my papà was if they merely Googled his name. My classmates at the all-girls school I’d attended had found out early on, and I’d practically been a pariah. Adriana had made lots of friends in her drama circle, but I never found the same.

“Yeah, I’m coming,” I said. “I’m bringing my cousin, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah. That Benito. Your family aware women don’t need a chaperone anymore?”

I smiled. “They’re aware. They just don’t care.”

Chatter grew louder as we reached backstage where ten or so other dancers congregated.

“Last offer,” he said firmly. “Cheeseburgers. Bring Benito with you. We’ll make it a threesome.”

I laughed. “I don’t think he’s into guys.”

It was his turn for a “Ha ha,” as we parted ways.





“Every savage can dance.”

—Jane Austen





I LEANED AGAINST THE ALLEY door, the metal hard and cold against my back. Mist fell, mixing with the sweat dripping down my bare midsection. Tire noise, sirens, and an occasional laugh from a close bar filtered into the alleyway.

“You’ve got the right idea.” Sierra stepped outside and pulled her blond hair off her sweaty face and into a bun.

The red curtain had opened and then closed, some laterals, spirals, and stag leaps in between, and the recital was a success. The dance was based on a man who died for love—a modern Romeo & Juliet tale. I played Death.

The performance was slow and dramatic, but it had a beautiful, haunting tone. Why must everything have a happily ever after? Aren’t the most memorable, poignant moments of history tragic? I had always appreciated sad endings. I was a realist, not a romantic.

I talked to Sierra for a little while about her two-year-old son and being a single mom, and then decided Benito was probably growing tired of waiting for me.

“I’ll see you later, Sierra. Tomorrow at the party, if you’re coming.”

“Yes, I’m coming! My mom’s watching Nathan. Please tell me your hot cousin is coming.”

I groaned with a playful roll of my eyes. “He’ll be there.”

“Great. See you then.” She winked.

I threw on an off-the-shoulder top and grabbed my bag before heading to the front. I’d just made it out the stage doors when an arm draped around my shoulder.

“I know I said last offer, but I forgot I haven’t suggested Chinese yet.”

I shook my head with a smile, but truthfully, there wasn’t a chance I was walking all the way to the car with Tyler’s arm around me. I loved Benito, but I could never forget he worked for my papà. It was his own father, my uncle Manuel, who was responsible for the death that haunted me. Benito had done nothing but watch, and I held no belief he wouldn’t let it happen again.

Just as we reached the front hall and I was about to slide Tyler’s arm off my shoulders, my heart stilled and so did my feet.