“Hey,” I say, holding my hands over my head and closing my eyes while I spin around, mimicking Jessie’s every move. When I turn back to face Cody, he’s stopped and completely staring at me. I lick my lips and let my eyes fall hooded, blinking slowly. Cody’s smile starts to stretch out along his face, and his eyes are intense. I feel like I just might have him when Kyla slides in between us and pulls his face to hers for a kiss.

It’s not just any kiss. It’s slow, and she’s biting at his lip and licking her tongue along his jawline sensually. It’s a public declaration—she might as well be screwing him right here on the dance floor. She’s grabbing at his hands next and forcing them to touch her, although when his fingers meet her br**sts, he’s more than willing to take over, and soon one of his hands is sliding down her side and lifting her thigh, digging into her ass.

I’m no longer able to move. I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face, but it’s actually worse—I’m being totally ignored. There’s no way I can compete with her, and I feel foolish as I look down at my gawky long legs that are propped atop four-inches of silly heels, my skirt barely long enough to cover my underwear, my shirt showing off my barely-there br**sts. I don’t know what I was thinking.

When Cody’s looking away, I slide back through the crowd and make my way to the restroom again. I stand at the sink for minutes, contemplating just running water over my face and washing away the heavy shadow and blush. I feel like a kid playing dress-up. I don’t know how to be sexy, at least not for anyone other than Trevor. And that’s because he likes things simple, plain. Boring.

That’s me. I’m boring.

I’m almost laughing at myself when I see Kyla walk in behind me. I pretend to be washing my hands, and then turn the water off so I can get a towel and leave.

“That was some show out there,” she says, slowly rounding her lips with her lipstick, puckering, and touching up the corners with her long nails.

“I’m sorry?” I say, rather appalled that she’s bragging about her sex appeal in front of me.

“You. You’re funny. You’ve never been in a place like this before, have you?” she says, facing me now and smiling like the popular girl in grade school about to trick you.

“Not really,” I admit. “Trevor and I, we go to a lot of business dinners and things like that.”

I’m completely intimidated by her, and I keep flashing to the door, hoping Jessie will come through it and save me. My heartbeat is in my neck, and my stomach feels sick, like I’m racing through a roller coaster. And she’s just smirking at me. She leans back on the sink a little, reaching in to pull her br**sts up even higher in her bra before settling her gaze back on me.

“Yeah, you and Trevor are so good together; just like me and Cody. I’ve missed him,” she says, dragging her teeth along the top of her lip before letting a tiny breath escape, “and I can tell he’s missed me.”

She moves from the sink and slowly walks past me to the door, grabbing the handle and then stopping. “If you want, though, I can show you how to really dance sometime. My mom was a dancer. I’m guessing yours wasn’t,” she smiles with a little giggle before turning, and the door closes behind her.

I turn back to the mirror and can’t help the tears that are falling from my face. I throw my purse at my reflection, and the contents fly all over the counter and the floor. No, my mom wasn’t a dancer. My mom was barely aware that I existed, and when she was aware, she spent her time drugging herself to the point of once again forgetting—all the way up until she got rid of me altogether.

I grab a fistful of napkins and start to run them under the hot water, rubbing the make-up from my skin and scrubbing hard, leaving my face red. My hair is wet by the time I’m done, but my pulse is still speeding up. I don’t want to be here any more, and I don’t want to go back out there, so I send Trevor a text.

I’m really ill, some stomach bug. Just called a cab. Don’t worry, will see you at home.

I poke my head from the bathroom door, scanning the immediate area, and feel good that no one I know will notice me. I’m down the hall and to the elevator in seconds, and I can’t stop pounding on the button—like that’s going to make the doors open any faster. When they do, I rush inside, but then a hand slides into the door to stop them from closing.

“Are you seriously running?” Jessie says.

I shrug my shoulders. “I just…I don’t belong here. I can’t compete with that,” I say, gesturing to the dance floor.