“Right here?” I questioned, trying to sound casual, but the breathiness of my tone betrayed my nervousness. The challenge in his eyes was blatant. I scoffed, willing my voice to stay steady. “You think I won’t?”

“I think you’re stalling.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I think you’re full of shit.”

Blake hummed in response, his thumbs moving in slow circles against my waist, barely-there touches that sent a wave of heat racing up my spine. “You’re talking a lot for someone who is supposed to be dancing.”

Scowling, I let my hands drift down his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt stretch over hard muscle, before slowly rolling my hips to the beat.

Blake sucked in a breath.

I leaned in closer, my lips brushing his ear. “Just say it.”

“Say what?” His voice was strained, gritty.

“That I win.”

Before he could answer, Tiffany’s voice cut through the air.

“Holy shit, Bev.”

The spell shattered, the tension snapping like a live wire.

I whipped my head around to see her standing in the doorway, mouth open, eyes wide with absolute glee.

“I leave for five minutes, and you’re out here giving lap dance auditions?”

19

BLAKE, 1998

17 years old

In one sharp motion, Beverly shoved herself off of me, nearly knocking over the table in her rush to escape.

I clenched my jaw, tilting my head back against the couch as I exhaled slowly, willing the tension in my body to go with it.

It didn’t.

Tiffany was still standing in the doorway, one hand on her hip, the other clutching her drink like she’d just walked in on a crime scene. “What in God’s name did I just witness?”

Beverly stood frozen, her chest rising and falling a little too fast, as if she hadn’t fully processed what we’d just done. “I⁠—”

Tiffany snorted, her eyes flicking between us like she was taking notes. “Girl, you had me fooled. You said you were just gonna drink tonight, but no—” She pointed a finger at Beverly, then at me. “Turns out you were over here seducing our favorite nerd.”

Beverly, trying to look unbothered despite her cheeks turning an impressive shade of red, scowled. “I wasn’t⁠—”

“Oh, don’t you dare try to downplay this,” Tiffany interrupted. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like⁠—”

Beverly cut her off with a loud huff, grabbed her drink off the table, and downed the rest of it in one go. A terrible idea, considering she was already unsteady.

As if things couldn’t get worse, Jamal appeared in the doorway a second later.

Tiffany whipped around. “Oh, perfect timing. Guess what? Bev just gave Blake a mini lap dance.”

Jamal choked on his own breath. “I’m sorry, what?”

Beverly shot Tiffany a look that could’ve killed a man.