Page 72 of After Midnight

Tonight is the first time I feel on edge, with a tingling sensation on my skin, like I’m being watched in the darkness.

It’s okay, I tell myself, taking a deep breath and letting it out slow. Nothing happened.

It’s not like James threatened me. And he followed all my rules during the dance, without needing to be reminded where he could and couldn’t put his hands. So it’s probably unnecessary for me to feel like this right now.

But I’m still struggling to shake the unease even as I drive home. Only when I’m in my condo with the doors locked and an old Studio Ghibli film playing on the TV in my living room do I finally feel the anxiety fall away from my shoulders.

I’m okay. Nothing bad happened. It’s fine.

But when I sit down on the couch with one of my meal-prep dinners and grab my phone, Sebastian’s silly burrito photo is the first thing I see. And something about it makes me yearn for him, yearn for the comfort and rightness that I feel being with him, whether we’re grocery shopping or laughing together in my pole room.

And a small voice inside me says, You haven’t taken a break in years. You deserve this.

I glance up at the movie playing, watching the witch flying around on her broom with her little black cat, but I can’t focus. My gaze keeps being drawn to my cell, and I keep wanting to text back, even if I’m not sure yet what to say.

But maybe . . .

Maybe spending some time in Cali would be good for me.

chapter 31

Remi

IT’S EARLY FRIDAY EVENING, AND I should be getting ready to step out onto the floor at the club; instead, I’m crammed into a plane, wishing the people ahead of me would grab their carry-on bags faster. My flight from Vegas to LA was packed, and even though the flight only took an hour or so, I’m already dying to get off this plane and get my feet back on the ground, where they belong. I can’t believe Seb flies around like this all the time, like it’s as normal as hopping into a cab.

I’m now even more grateful that he’s been so willing to fly out to visit me.

Finally, it’s my turn, and I get out of my seat as quickly as possible. I follow the flow of passengers disembarking from the plane and let them lead me to baggage claim. LAX is crazy, and as I walk, I grip the strap of my carry-on bag and start to get nervous butterflies in my stomach. Because I’m about to see him again.

In my back pocket, my cell chimes, and I pull it out, glancing down at the screen without missing a stride.

I’m here. Can’t wait to see you. cz

Seb has a thing for emojis, which is adorable. Seeing it makes me smile, and I’m comforted by the fact that he’s here somewhere, waiting for me. Though it makes those butterflies go a little more wild too.

It’s been less than two weeks since I last saw him, and it’s not lost on me how crazy this all is. If someone had asked me a couple months ago if I’d ever take time off work and fly to LA to hang out with a drummer in a rock band, I would’ve laughed in their face.

Yet here I am, my eyes searching the bustling space as I approach baggage claim. There are so many bodies moving around me, everyone seeming in a rush to get where they’re going. It’s not so unlike Vegas in that way.

Then something pink catches my eye: a huge homemade sign. And the face grinning under it is Sebastian’s.

He’s holding the sign up over his head, and Remi is written on the white poster board in gigantic glittering pink letters, surrounded by hearts and lopsided stars. The people around him are staring, and a few people even snap photos, but whether that’s because they recognize him from LGC or because he just looks so ridiculous and cute at the same time, I have no idea.

When Seb’s eyes meet mine, I swear it’s like time slows down. Everything in my periphery falls away, becoming a muted blur, and the next thing I know, Seb is grinning that dimpled smile and opening his arms wide, and I’m jumping into his embrace as if I haven’t seen him in a year instead of a couple weeks.

He smells fresh, like a mix of soap and coconut, and his arms are sturdy and warm where they’re wrapped around me.

For a moment, I bury my face in his neck and hold on, my feet suspended off the floor from him lifting me, my carry-on and his glittery sign abandoned somewhere beside us. And it feels so right, like I’m exactly where I belong.

Slowly, he lowers me to my feet, then pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.

“Hey,” he says.

I laugh, the sound light, like the tension that’s been lingering in my chest all week—since my last odd encounter with James—is starting to unfurl. “Hey.”

His brown-eyed gaze flicks down to my mouth. Immediately, I push onto my toes, bringing my lips to his, one of my hands wrapping around the back of his neck. His fingers tighten slightly where they’re still resting around my waist, and he makes a small sound before pulling away.

With a laugh, he says, “You can’t kiss me like that in public.”