“WELCOME TO SLAM night, everyone!” The usual host jumped up on the elevated platform that served as a stage, the lone spotlight following her. “We’ve got our judges for the night all set, but a couple of spots are still open for slams, so sign up at the bar if you’d like to share with us tonight. First up, let’s make some noise for Ramona.”
The crowd whooped and cheered as Ramona took the stage, and I popped the tab on my soda. I was ready to hear some poems other than my own pages of heartbreak. Something angry would be nice, but I was open to anything. I just didn’t want to sit around my room moping or secretly hoping for another West break-in. It was pointless to even entertain a second chance when I’d shut him down so completely.
Cutting ties was for the best, though. I needed to focus on school and figuring out what I wanted for my future. I didn’t need to think of a certain someone’s blue eyes or the confidence he possessed that I wanted to rub off on me.
And I certainly didn’t need to think of any other part of that someone rubbing off on me. Or in me.
One day, West would be a blip in my memory, just a fun, wild moment in time that I wasn’t emotionally attached to in any way. One day, thinking about him wouldn’t hurt so much. I’d forget all about the worry I had that maybe it was a mistake not to give him a second chance. He’d shown me his true colors, after all. No matter how sincere he seemed, no matter how much I wanted to believe his apology…
This was for the best, right? And time was supposed to heal…right?
Then why was I sitting here with my gut twisted up like I was the one who’d messed up somehow?
I took a long swallow of my soda and tried to focus on what Ramona was saying. Something political, exactly the kind of thing that would get me out of my head. If only I could manage to pay attention.
She finished off her piece, and the next performer was introduced, this time an older guy with an attitude that promised something fun. And raging.
“Is this seat taken?” came a quiet whisper above me, and I shook my head, not paying any attention to the latecomer. It wasn’t until he sat down beside me, squeezing in at the edge of the aisle, that I realized who it was. His cologne filled my nose, causing my heart to stop dead in my chest.
“West?” I said, disbelief making my voice go up an octave or two as he flashed a grin and put a finger to his lips.
“Shh…” He gestured to the stage. “They’re about to start.”
He turned to face the stage as though the fact that he was there, in the East Village, sitting in the Poet Café, was a regular occurrence for him. Not one I’d forced on him during his imposed fake dating of me.
Edwin, the next performer, greeted the crowd, but I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from West. What ulterior plans did have this time around?
“What are you doing here?” I said under my breath, my eyes boring a hole into West’s handsome profile.
No, not handsome. Arrogant.
His arrogant and close-to-perfect profile.
Damn it.
He didn’t look my way, focusing instead on the performer. “Oh, I just thought I’d take in a little poetry for the night.”
“You thought… What? This isn’t your thing,” I protested, my words coming out a little louder than I’d intended, if the people behind us shushing me were any indication.
West couldn’t be here. Not in my space, a place I’d gone to escape him.
“Says who?” West’s eyes met mine. “I like what you like. Remember?”
I swallowed, trying not to get lost in the crystal-blue depths of his gaze, and jerked my attention back to the performance. As I silently fumed, I did my best to focus on the words Edwin was saying, but no matter how hard I tried to concentrate, all I could think about was West’s audacity.
“You don’t like what I like.” I couldn’t seem to stop the words from leaving my mouth. “You like hundred-dollar caviar, limousines, and five-star hotels with chandeliers dripping from the ceiling.”
West angled his head in my direction. “You’re right. I do like all of that. But you forgot one thing.” I scanned his face, searching for a clue. “I like you, Golden Boy.”
Ugh, the man was infuriating. Had probably never been told no in his life. But that was too bad. I wasn’t some toy he’d been given to play with—although he’d been really good at it.
I gnashed my teeth together and blew out a breath. “What part of ‘goodbye’ did you not understand the last time we spoke?”
“The bye part.” His eyes flashed with mischief. “I got the good because, well, I’m good at a lot of things. But bye? I don’t really hear that a lot.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, brace yourself—you’re about to hear it again.”
The three-minute buzzer went off just as I was about to stand, and a loud round of applause filled the building as Edwin waved and moved off the stage. As the audience settled and the host stepped back up to the mic, I took that as my cue to get the hell out of there. But as I moved to step by West, he took my hand and looked up at me.
“Where are you going?”
I pulled my arm free. “Away from here. Goodbye, West.”
About to brush by him, I was shocked when he got to his feet, blocking my path. “No. Don’t do that.”
I arched a brow. “Well, I’m not going to spend the night sitting here with you.”
He put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I hear you. You were here first. I’ll go and find somewhere else to sit.”
My eyes narrowed as I looked around the crowded space. There were no seats, no floor space, and even the balcony was full tonight. He’d have a tough time finding anywhere else to enjoy the show, but that wasn’t my problem. I wasn’t going to feel guilty he’d have to stand shoulder to shoulder with some stranger. He was the one who’d decided to show up here tonight.
“Good.” I gave a clipped nod and retook my seat, and as West slipped out of the aisle and disappeared into the throng of people, I allowed myself to breathe.
God, how was it that he could affect me this way? It was like the second he was near, everything else faded until all I could focus on was him. But now I could at least try to enjoy the rest of the show. The idea that West would actually stay seemed highly unlikely. So I settled in and waited for the next slam contestant, more than happy to believe he’d dipped out for the night.
The crowd chatted amongst themselves as the host conversed with the judges off to the side of the stage, and I took a sip of my soda, relaxing now that the danger had been removed.
Danger. That was the exact warning West should come with.
Danger to my body.
Danger to my mind.
And danger to my heart.
“Exciting news, everyone!” The host rubbed her hands together and smiled out at the audience. “Someone signed up to fill one of the final spots, and guess what?”
“What?” they boomed back.
“He’s fresh meat.”
Everyone let out an ear-blistering cheer, catcalling and wolf-whistling their enthusiasm for the newbie poet, something they no doubt viewed as encouraging. But if that had been for me, it would’ve sent my ass running.
The host held her hands up and gestured for everyone to simmer down, then turned to the side of the stage and motioned for the next contestant to join her.
I lifted my soda to take another sip, and when the spotlight shifted to the shadows and West stepped onto the stage, I almost sprayed my drink all over the person in front of me.
What the fuck?
“This here is…” The host covered the mic and leaned over to West, and then nodded. “Mr. LaRue. So fancy—”
Oh God, just kill me now.
“The rules are, as always, new or not, three minutes. You speak. We judge. And hopefully don’t send you crying. The mic’s yours…sir.”
West winked at the host, bold bastard, then, cool as you please, moved in behind the mic as though he’d done this a million times before.
Of course he was comfortable up there, in the spotlight in front of a room full of strangers. Probably thought he’d win by just standing there. Which made me wonder: He does know he has to speak, right?
“Evenin’ everyone.”
West leaned down into the mic, his sparkling eyes dancing over the crowd as I sank down in my seat, hoping against all hope he wasn’t going to—
“I’d like to dedicate my poem tonight to JT.” He brought his other hand up to shield his eyes from the spotlight. “He’s here tonight, right over there.”
Everyone in the café turned in their seats, their eyes all locking on to me like lasers. I was going to kill him. The first chance I had, I was going to kill him.
The buzzer went off, and West gripped the mic and waggled his eyebrows at me. “My piece tonight is called ‘Douchebag Prince.’”
I groaned. Sweet mother of God. Who knew what was about to fly out of West’s mouth? Did I even want to know? All I knew was that I’d do anything in that moment for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
“There once was a prince”—West pointed to himself—“who lived in a castle.
Who, it turns out, was no prince but kind of an asshole.”
My eyes popped wide as people started to boo, but West merely shrugged and kept right on.
“He let his arrogance and desire for petty revenge
Overrule all common sense when challenged by friends:
To enter into a deceitful plot, where a wicked bet was waged.
All he had to do was corrupt an innocent, then go on his merry way.”
Holy shit. He was laying it all out there. I could feel the questioning eyes bounce between me and West, but all I could focus on were the words coming out of his mouth.
“‘Easy,’ the prince said, ‘I can do that,’ without any worry at all.
Because never would he guess the innocent in question would be the one to make him fall.
Fall head over heels. Fall flat on his ass.
Fall the second their eyes met in the King’s class.
But fall he did as soon as he saw,
Those beautiful brown eyes and a face he’d slay dragons for.”
My breath caught in my throat as West turned the full force of his attention on me. As if no one else was in the room. Like nothing else mattered but me and finding a way to get through.
“But the prince was determined; he never lost.
This time would be no different, except for the cost.
Because never did he think he had the ability to find
Someone who adored him not for his money but his mind.”
West smiled as he broke our connection to tell the crowd, “He also adored my body, but that didn’t rhyme.”
Everyone started to laugh, and damn it, so did I. West was making it impossible to ignore him—not to mention stay mad—as he slipped right back into his poem like the natural he was proving to be.
“The innocent was sweet, his love golden
But his heart and trust the prince had stolen.
Hurt and betrayed the innocent lashed out,
Telling the prince to ‘Get the fuck out!’”
West pointed dramatically to the side stage exit, making the audience laugh. Then he lowered his arm and took on a serious tone.
“The prince left, dragging his pride out the door.
But what good would that do him, when his heart was broken on the floor?
He needed a way to prove that he had changed.
A way to make the innocent look at him again.”
West’s eyes came back to mine then and the apology swirling in his had my breath catching.
“The prince tried to apologize, but that wasn’t enough.
He even braved the queen, to prove he was tough.
But in the end the most honest thing he could do
Was lay his heart on the line and let the innocent choose.
Could he ever forgive the prince after what he’d done?
Or would the prince grow old knowing he’d lost…the one?”
When West delivered his final line and stepped aside to take a bow, the crowd let out booming applause and started to stamp their feet. The thunderous sound kept time with my pounding heart as I smiled, and when West winked at me, a tear slipped free.
Shit. I was crying.
I reached up and swiped the tears away, as happiness washed over me, filling me with hope and possibilities, then the audience turned my way and started to cheer.
My face burned, but I didn’t care. I only had eyes for West, who was looking at me with a question on his face that I already knew the answer to.
I was out of my seat and heading down the aisle toward West as the wolf whistles continued. His eyes widened slightly when he realized what I was doing, but then he jumped off the platform, his long legs eating up the space between us.
My heart raced, closed to bursting, as we rushed toward each other.
“JT,” West said, “I—”
I didn’t give him a chance to finish. My hands were on him, cupping either side of his face as I slammed my mouth to his. West didn’t hesitate—he wrapped both arms tight around my waist, kissing me back with an intensity that made my knees weak and set off explosions behind my closed eyes.
Around us, the cheers and shouts grew louder, but West and I were in our own bubble, devouring each other with a passion like it’d been more than days since we’d been apart. Like we never expected to touch each other again.
I pulled back, breathless. “You’re absolutely insane, anyone ever told you that?”
He gave a smile, tightening his hold on me. “Among many, many other things. You okay being associated with someone like me?”
“I think I’m up for the challenge.”
“Wanna bet?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he cringed. “Too soon?”
“Depends—what do I get if I win?”
West lowered his head and nipped at my lower lip. “Anything you want, Golden Boy.”
I slipped my tongue between his lips, moaning as I wound my arms around his neck, and connecting myself to him any way I could.
West was here, in my arms again, and all the ugliness that had been between us was now gone. I wasn’t the kind of person to hold a grudge, and was a full believer in second chances. So if anyone deserved a chance to redeem himself, it was the man who’d just stood up on stage and given over the power, showing that he did, in fact, have a vulnerable side.
“I want the poem,” I whispered against his lips.
“Hmm?”
“If I can manage to put up with you, then I want to hear that poem at least once a month.”
West chuckled. “I think the staff here might get sick of hearing it.”
“Who said anything about performing it here?”
“Oh, now you’re talking.”
I grinned against his lips and rubbed my body up against his. “There’s good acoustics in the shower—”
“My bedroom.”
“Mhmm. I’m sure it would also sound wonderful up on your rooftop deck. I don’t care where you say it, but you, Mr. LaRue, are going to give me what I want.”
West pressed a hard kiss to my lips, then grabbed my ass, squeezing it tight.
“Get a room!” someone shouted, and West waggled his brows at me.
“Who needs a room when there’s a second-floor balcony?”
I laughed, shoving at his chest as I shook my head. “I think we’ve got too many eyes on us to make that happen tonight. Besides, it’s a full house.”
“Damn. It’s a good thing I brought a backup, then.”
When I gave him a curious look, he laced his fingers through mine and started back through the crowd to the exit. As we passed, people clapped West and me on the shoulders and grinned. I had a feeling he could get used to that stage, which made another thought pop into my head.
“How the hell did you write all that?” I said. “I’m so impressed. You’re a natural.”
“I might’ve…had help. Like, a lot of help.”
I side-eyed him, smirking. “Who did you pay to write it for you?”
“Me? Pay someone off? I’m offended you’d think such a thing.” He grinned as he held open the front door for me to go out first. “Caleb helped me for free.”
“Caleb? No way. He hates you.”
“Exactly. You don’t think I’d say some of that shit about myself, do you?”
My jaw almost hit the ground in disbelief, and West shrugged.
“I figured we should try to play nice now since we have something in common.”
“Something?”
“Someone.”
“Wow, I’m shocked. Remind me to thank Caleb next time I see him.”
“Fuck Caleb. Actually, don’t. I was the one up there performing it, remember? If you’re going to thank anyone, it should be me.” As we stepped out onto the sidewalk, West tugged me toward him.
“Trust me, I will never forget what you just did in there.”
West brushed his lips against mine, sending a shiver through my body that I felt everywhere.
“West?”
“Mmm?”
“Take me home, and I’ll thank you for the rest of the night.”
West grinned and clicked his fingers in the air, and wouldn’t you know it, the prince’s carriage—a limousine—drew to a stop on the curb.
“You didn’t expect me to take the train on my own, did you?”
I chuckled as West opened the door for me. “No, I didn’t. Okay, Prince Charming, guess we better get in before this turns into a pumpkin and we’re stuck in the East Village.”
West feigned a shudder, but the smile on his gorgeous lips grew. “My castle or yours?”
