Dance For Me (Strip in the City, Book 2)

15 • Hot Opportunity

Tan

Dominick was the only person I'd ever met who could see through my fake smiles and need to please. The only guy who stripped all that away to see what was underneath. But, maybe what Dominick saw underneath all my performing was someone he didn't like.

I thought there was something between Romeo–aka Dominick DuBois and me, and that something had kept me grounded during an insane week of ballet, speech lessons with my brother that–to be frank–weren't going well, and an overwhelming feeling of loneliness.

I blotted at the tears that wouldn't stop falling as I sat across from Kennedy on our second-hand couch, feeling like an absolute loser. Why should he like the girl underneath the fake smiles–no one else did. Not even me.

Everyone knew me as the headstrong girl who knew what she wanted. But deep down, I was scared. I wanted someone to see the real me, with flaws and anxieties, and love me.

This was the first time I thought maybe there was something more–something worth pursuing–despite my busy schedule and promise for this to only be a one time thing. But I was wrong. Dominick didn't want to see me again.

Nothing in my entire life had prepared me to feel like this. Not even ballet. The sting of Dominick's rejection hurt more than I expected.

Maybe because it confirmed everything that had been swirling around in my head.

I wasn't good enough. Not for my parents. Not for Celeste. And not for the first man I'd ever felt a connection with.

"Persistence is the key, sugar," Kennedy explained after I spilled my guts and told her what happened between Dominick and me and why I was acting so weird. "Look at me and Flynn. If I hadn't kept on that man, we wouldn't be getting married. Sometimes men need a little help figuring things out because, my god, they can be clueless."

I knew Kennedy was just trying to give me advice, like the good friend she was, but I felt uncomfortable taking other people's advice. I was always helping other people, not the other way around. But I humored her–partly because I didn't want to seem like a jerk and partly because I needed to get this off my chest.

"No amount of persistence is going to change Dominick's mind. He is like a block of ice. You should've seen the look he was giving me. It was sub-zero."

The kettle started screaming, and Kennedy got up to pour us each a mug of tea. "Well, it's a good thing you're all Sagittarius fire then, darlin'!" she called from our tiny kitchen. "Melt him with your personality. Just walk up to the man and tell him he owes you an expensive dinner."

I let out a sputtering laugh as Kennedy returned from the kitchen and handed me a mug of turmeric tea. I'd introduced her to the ayurvedic anti-inflammatory tea my nani used to make so we weren't constantly flooding our systems with pharmaceuticals.

"No way. I can't do that," I said, taking a sip.

"Why not?" Kennedy asked, settling back down cross-legged beside me. "I've seen you make the first move half a hundred times."

She wasn't wrong. I always made the first move. But making the first move at a club was easy. Drinks, dancing, and sex was a language I spoke. But what came next–the second date stuff where the guy could reject me? That was nearly impossible to initiate. Especially because–in my experience–if I was interested in a guy for more than a night, chances were, he wasn't interested in me.

Case in point: Dominick.

"He doesn't want to see me again. Trust me." I let out a sigh, trying to stop from cringing. That man had oh-my-god, why-are-you-here written all over his beautiful face. "Besides, I made the biggest scene at his office. I have no idea what I was thinking. Clearly, I wasn't."