Forty minutes later, our cab rolled to a stop in the industrial bowels of Bushwick.
“No,” Kai said flatly, staring at the building before us. Cracked windows glinted in the moonlight and graffiti turned the red stone exterior into a riot of colors, cartoons, and curse words. It was dark save for a row of lights blazing on the top floor. “This looks like the type of place where serial killers stash their victims’ bodies.”
“And you say I listen to too much true crime.” I slid out of the backseat and stifled a grin when Kai paid our driver with a pained expression. He could complain all he wanted, but he was here and he wasn’t leaving, or he would’ve asked the driver to take him home. “I promise, there were no dead bodies the last time I checked. But that was over a month ago, so I can’t guarantee things haven’t changed since then.”
“If I’d known you were such a comedy fan, I would’ve brought you to the Comedy Cellar instead.”
“It was a lack of foresight on your part, but perhaps next time,” I quipped, implying there would be a next time.
My stupid, overly hormonal heart thumped at the prospect.
Kai and I hadn’t discussed our almost-kiss yet. After three weeks, what happened in the library seemed like a fever dream, the product of exhaustion and fantasies bleeding into real life. Looking at him now, so rigid and proper in his four-thousand-dollar coat, it was hard to imagine him ever losing control like that.
“Perhaps.” Kai eyed the warehouse’s black metal front door like it was infested with cholera. Someone had spray-painted three giant boobs on it, along with the word Titz in fluorescent yellow. “How charming.”
“It is.” I shrugged off my disappointment at his lack of response to my next time remark and typed the security code into the keypad. A second later, the door buzzed open. “You know what they say. Third boob’s the charm.”
Kai coughed into his fist. If I didn’t know better, I could’ve sworn he was hiding a laugh.
The door shut with a clang behind us. We walked down the dimly lit hall and took the elevator up to the top floor, where a woman with blue pigtails and black lipstick sat on a stool by the entrance. There were no rooms in the building; each floor was comprised of one giant, loft-like space, and she looked inordinately small against the cavernous backdrop.
She glanced up from her sketch pad long enough to check our IDs and my membership card before waving us past.
The studio was empty save for the woman at the door and a skinny, goateed blond rubbing blue paint over his torso like it was baby oil. Everyone was probably downstairs, but I wanted to ease Kai in before I threw him into the deep end.
He stopped at the edge of the tarp covering the gray concrete floor. A temporary wooden wall stood in the middle of the room, covered with white floating canvases and paint-filled balloons hung on push pins. Detachable tabs locked the canvases in place. Next to the wall, a rolling bar cart held drinking glasses, several bottles of clear alcohol, and a jar brimming with folded slips of paper.
Kai’s eyes moved from the balloons to the bar to the blond artist, who was now doing yoga stretches on his corner of the tarp. Quite a sight, considering he wore nothing except paint and a pair of loose-hanging shorts.
A faint grimace crossed Kai’s face when the blond shifted into a killer praying mantis pose. “Isabella.”
“Yes?” I said brightly.
“What, exactly, did you bring us to?”
“A creative community! It’s like one of those paint and wine places, but better.” I gestured at the wall, where bright trails of paint snaked over a few of the canvases and dripped onto the tarp. “Have you ever watched The Princess Diaries? With Anne Hathaway? There’s this scene with Mia and her mom after she finds out she’s actually a princess…”
He stared at me.
“Never mind. The point is, this is very similar to what they did in the movie. Your goal is to puncture those balloons with a dart so the paint spills onto the canvas and creates an abstract piece of art. If you miss, you have to pick a slip of paper from that jar and answer the question truthfully or take a shot of Violet’s Special Moonshine. Violet is the owner of the studio,” I clarified. “Her moonshine is no joke. The last time someone took more than three shots, they ended up streaking across Bushwick and singing the national anthem at the top of their lungs. Got arrested for indecent exposure, but their boss’s daughter’s best friend bailed him out because they were having an affair—”
“Isabella,” Kai said again.
“Hmm?”
“Unnecessary detail.”
Fair enough. Not everyone found the sex lives of random New Yorkers as interesting as I did. Maybe because they were having sex and not confined to hearing about it through friends and strangers.
To his credit, Kai didn’t immediately turn and walk out the door at the prospect of throwing darts at balloons all night. Instead, he averted his gaze from the artist yogi, took off his coat, and draped it over a nearby chair.
An irritating wisp of relief curled through me. I shouldn’t care whether he stayed. I didn’t enjoy his company that much.
I placed my coat over his and retrieved two smocks from the hooks lining the wall on our right.
“How did you find out about this place?” Kai rolled up his sleeves and accepted the smock I handed him.
I darted a glance at his forearms. Tanned, muscled, corded with sexy veins and a light smattering of dark hair…
An electric shiver ghosted down my spine before I yanked my eyes away. New Isabella does not drool over random men’s forearms. No matter how hot they are.
Kai lifted a brow, and I remembered belatedly that he’d asked a question.
“My brother Felix told me about it.” I removed my heels and fastened the smock around me, all the while keeping my gaze planted on the canvases. It was safer that way. “He’s an artist, and he likes to come here when he’s feeling stuck. He says being surrounded by other creatives in a low-stakes environment helps jog ideas loose.” Felix’s method for getting unstuck had never worked for me, but I liked how fun the exercise was. Sometimes I paired up with another person for the questions part; other times, I was content with just throwing darts. “He lives in L.A., but he visits New York often and knows all the underground places.”
“An artist. A writer. Creative family.” Kai’s warmth brushed my side as he came up beside me. Even in an ugly black smock, he looked aristocratic, like a prince among commoners.
He plucked a dart from the nearby tray and handed it to me.
I took it gingerly. Our hands didn’t touch, but my palm tingled like they had. “That’s only me and Felix,” I said. “The rest of my brothers aren’t into the arts. Gabriel, the oldest, runs our family business. Romero is an engineer, and Miguel teaches poli sci at Berkeley.” A wry smile. “A lot of Asian families push their children into law, medicine, or engineering, but my parents were big on us doing what we wanted as long as it’s not illegal or unethical. Habulin mo ang iyong mga pangarap. Chase your dreams. Our family motto.”
I left out the part about us having to achieve said dreams by age thirty due to a certain written clause. It was my parents’ way of ensuring we didn’t jump from passion to passion because we couldn’t make up our minds. The way I had for the past oh, ten years.
If we didn’t settle into a career path by thirty, then…
I swallowed the lump of unease in my throat. It’ll be fine. I had time. If there was one thing that motivated me more than the prospect of money, fame, and success, it was the chance to prove my brother wrong.
“Are you?” Kai asked.
“What?”
“Chasing your dreams.”
Of course. The answer sat on the tip of my tongue, but something prevented me from saying it out loud.
My eyes met Kai’s for a single, knowing beat before I looked away. My heart rattled behind my ribcage, but I tried my best to ignore it. Instead, I focused on a balloon, aimed, and threw my dart as hard as I could. It glanced harmlessly off the wood.
I sighed. Typical. I’d been coming here for months, and I’d only hit my target twice.
“You pick.” I gestured at the jar of paper. “I’m too busy wallowing in my lack of hand-eye coordination.”
Miguel and Gabriel had gotten all the athletic genes in the family. It was so unfair.
Kai’s gaze sparked with amusement, but he didn’t argue. He plucked a slip from the jar and unfolded it. “What’s your biggest fear?”
It was a generic question with plenty of generic answers—clowns, losing more people I loved, being alone. All things that had kept me up late at night, especially after I watched It. But the answer that came out of my mouth had nothing to do with killer clowns or dying by myself on some stranded road.
“A life without purpose.” Embarrassment warmed my cheeks. The reply sounded so generic, like something a college freshman would spout in philosophy class, but that didn’t make it any less true.
“It’s not a concrete fear, like falling onto the subway tracks or having an air conditioner fall on my head,” I said, naming two of the most common worries New Yorkers had. A faint curve touched Kai’s lips. “But I don’t know. The thought of dying without achieving something is…” Depressing. Suffocating. Terrifying. “Stressful. Especially in a city like New York, you know? Everyone here seems to know what they’re doing or at least what they want to be doing. They live for a purpose, not survival.”
I couldn’t articulate why that bothered me so much. I just knew that sometimes, I scrolled through social media, consumed with envy over all the engagement, promotion, and insert-other-big-life-change announcements. I didn’t begrudge my friends their happiness; I was truly thrilled when Vivian got married and when Sloane landed a big client. But I wished I had something of my own to share besides jokes and gossip. Something substantial that would consume my thoughts at night and drive away the restless, amorphous anxiety that plagued me whenever I was alone too long.
The curve on Kai’s mouth straightened. “You do have a purpose,” he said. Instead of sounding annoyed by my rambling, he spoke with a familiar certainty. You’ll finish it. “It’s to share your stories.”
It was what I wanted. But if that was my real purpose, wouldn’t I be better at it?
I bit back my uncertainty. I’d shared enough of my messy internal angst for the night. I didn’t want to spend my Saturday wallowing in self-pity.
“You’re right. Anyway.” I tore my eyes away and refocused on the canvases. “Enough boring existential crisis talk. Your turn.”
The warmth of Kai’s gaze touched my face for an extra second before he faced forward. I was dying to ask him a question, but of course, his dart flew straight and true. It punctured one of the balloons with the precision of a laser-guided missile, as did his next throw, and the one after that. Half an hour later, I’d missed all of my shots while he’d missed none.
“There’s no way.” I gaped at the paint-splattered wall with disbelief. “You’re cheating!”
Kai quirked a dark brow. “How would one cheat at darts?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, stumped. Damn him. Why did he have to look like that and be good at everything he did? God truly had favorites.
“If I knew, I would’ve hit the target myself,” I grumbled. “Fine. Let’s switch it up since you’re clearly some sort of inhuman dart-throwing machine.” I gestured at the balloons. “If I make this next throw, you have to answer a question. It’s unfair that you know all these things about me when I barely know anything about you.”
He gave an elegant shrug. “Seems fair.”
I plucked another dart from the box and narrowed my eyes at the wall. I can do this. How hard could hitting one teeny, tiny balloon be?
I took a deep breath, aimed, threw…and watched as the dart thudded on the ground without touching a single inch of wood, canvas, or latex.
Dammit. My shoulders slumped. Not even close.
“I’m starting to think you’re missing on purpose,” Kai said, sounding amused.
I scowled. “Not all of us are gifted with…” My voice trailed off when he stepped behind me, close enough my hair brushed his chest. My heartbeat wavered. “What are you doing?”
“Teaching you how to throw so we don’t end the night with a twelve-zero score.” The crisp breeze of his voice skimmed my neck. “Landslide victories are hardly victories at all.”
The studio was so large it carried a chill despite the overworked radiator in the corner, but Kai’s body heat drove every ounce of it away. “This isn’t a competition.”
“Everything’s a competition.” Kai placed his hands on my hips and angled my body so I stood diagonally to the wall. “This is the standard stance. It makes it easier to position your center of gravity and aim.” He reached next to us for a dart and slid it into my hand, closing his palm over it so he could guide my arm up. My back pressed against his front and sent tingles of excruciating awareness down my spine. “You don’t want to grip the dart too tightly. Too much pressure will disrupt its balance…”
I usually tuned out technical explanations, but to my surprise, Kai’s calm, steady instruction clicked after a while. Maybe it was the accent. It made everything better.
“Ready?” The word grazed the sensitive spot above my ear.
Goose bumps peppered my arms. I nodded.
Kai removed his hand from mine but kept a light touch on my back while I drew my right hand back, aimed, and fired.
Close…
Closer…
Bright blue paint burst from a balloon and spilled over an empty canvas.
I stared at it, my brain too stunned to register what happened.
Did I just…
“Oh my God,” I breathed. The first prickles of realization appeared in my stomach. “I did it. I did it!”
I squealed, jubilation overtaking my shock. Without thinking, I turned and threw my arms around Kai’s neck, my chest bursting with pride. Landing a dart throw was a small accomplishment, but it felt bigger somehow. It was proof that, with a little guidance and support, I could achieve the seemingly impossible.
It wasn’t much, but after so many failures and blocked paths, I’d take any encouragement I could get.
“Careful, or we’re going to be the ones covered in paint.” Kai laughed. His hands came up around my waist, steadying me. I’d almost knocked us to the ground in my excitement. “So what’s the question?”
“Hmm?” I asked, still high from my victory. Even surrounded by acrylic, he smelled good. Whatever he paid for his “signature scent,” it was worth it.
“The question you want to ask me now that you hit the target,” he prompted.
Right. My teeth sank into my bottom lip. I was torn between instant gratification and taking my time to come up with something good. Asking him about his fears or most embarrassing moment seemed like a missed opportunity to dig deeper.
“Can I save the question for later?”
“That goes against the rules you set out earlier.”
“They weren’t rules, they were guidelines. Besides…” I flashed an impish smile. “Rules are meant to be broken.”
“Why am I not surprised to hear you say that?” Kai sighed. “Fine. One question of your choosing, to be determined at a later date.”
“Thank you.” I beamed. “See? Not everything is black and white. There’s hope for you yet.”
“Good to know. I was getting worried,” he said dryly.
My arms were still around his neck, his hands still on my waist. My initial burst of excitement had faded, and my breaths slowed to match his.
Our smiles gradually faded as a spark of something other than amusement came to life in his eyes. The air settled around us, thick with electricity, and I felt a heady pull to stand on my tiptoes and—
A loud humming chased the sparks away. Kai and I jerked our heads toward the corner, where the blond artist/yogi was meditating on the floor. I’d completely forgotten he was there.
He wasn’t paying attention to us, but the spell had shattered.
We dropped our arms from each other and stepped back. Awkwardness rushed to fill the new space between us.
“Well,” Kai said stiffly, his cheekbones tinted with a dull brick-red. “This was an enjoyable if unexpected end to the evening. Thank you for the…enlightening experience. Shall I call a car to bring us both home?”
My brows dipped. “What do you mean, bring us home?”
“It’s past midnight. I assume you’re tired.”
Most parties didn’t start until midnight in New York, and I was anything but tired.
Kai was giving both of us an easy out.
If I were smart, I’d take it, but the thought of going home to an empty apartment filled me with trepidation. I loved Monty, but I couldn’t exactly converse with a snake.
“Exactly. It’s midnight, which means the night is still young.” A new smile filled with mischief stole across my face. “I haven’t shown you the real draw in the building yet.”
I almost laughed at how fast Kai’s face paled.
“Do I want to know?”
“Probably not, but you’ll find out anyway.” I removed my smock and tossed it in the dirty laundry bin. “Let’s go. We can get our canvases later. We don’t want to miss the fun.”
He looked like he had a different word in mind than fun, but he followed my lead and removed his smock, albeit with obvious reluctance. We left our coats in the studio and took the elevator to the basement.
“Brace yourself,” I said when the steel car thudded to a stop.
The line of consternation between Kai’s brows deepened. “What…”
The doors opened, and a powerful wave of noise drowned out the rest of his words. His consternation morphed into visible horror. This time, I couldn’t contain my laugh.
During the day, the basement was a glorified storage room. But at night? It was the hottest, most exclusive party in Brooklyn. No name, no advertisements, just good music, cheap drinks, and shattered inhibitions.
The Hulk-like bouncer recognized me on sight. He was a big fan of Felix’s, and he stamped our hands with the entry symbol before waving us past with a toothy grin.
“Is this…a rave?” I couldn’t hear Kai clearly over the music, but his appalled expression told me all I needed to know about his feelings toward raves.
“Of course not!” I shouted. “Raves have more drugs!”
Another laugh broke free from my throat. He looked like he’d swallowed a lemon whole.
“Come on!” I grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the bar. It wasn’t fancy like Valhalla’s, but the drinks were strong and the prices cheap. Sometimes, that was all we needed.
It took us a while to push through the sweaty, gyrating crowd, but we eventually made it to the other side. The bar’s alcove provided enough shelter from the music for people to hear each other without shouting. I ordered two of the house specials and handed one to Kai.
“First round’s on me.” I lifted my plastic cup. Like I said, not fancy, but I wasn’t drinking the container. “To stepping out of comfort zones.”
Kai hesitated, eyeing the drink the same way he’d eyed the door earlier, like it might kill him if he got too close. For a second, I thought he was going to refuse, but then he shook his head, muttered something that looked suspiciously like fuck it (if my lip-reading skills were anything to go by), and tapped his cup against mine.
“To stepping out of comfort zones.”
We tipped our heads back and downed the drinks at the same time. The fiery burn of bourbon scorched its way into my stomach. It tasted awful, but the resulting buzz was worth temporarily murdering my taste buds.
“Jesus.” Kai grimaced. “What did they put in this? Battery acid?”
“Don’t ask. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.” I dragged him back to the dance floor.
He rubbed his free hand over his face. “You’re going to be the death of me one day.”
I beamed, touched by the idea that I was powerful enough to cause someone’s death. Figuratively, not literally. I enjoyed reading about murder, not committing it.
It took several songs and shots, but Kai eventually relaxed enough to act like a normal person instead of a disapproving headmaster at a school dance.
I laughed with delight when he spun me out, then pulled me back in. He was actually a pretty good dancer once he removed the stick from his ass.
“Not bad.”
“Not bad?” He arched a mock offended brow. “I won my university’s annual dance competition four years in a row. Show some respect.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course you did.”
His talent was being talented. It was extremely annoying, but I found it hard to hold onto my anger when he was smiling down at me with that boyish gleam in his eyes.
He’d always been beautiful, with his elegant planes and chiseled lines, but tonight he looked different. More real, like he’d shed enough layers for his true self to peek through.
The music slowed, taking on a sultry, hypnotic beat. Our bodies shifted to match, swaying with a sensual rhythm that had my pulse throbbing in my ears. For the second time that night, our smiles faded as a familiar awareness crept between us.
The lights glinted off his glasses, flashing blue, then green, then red and blue again. His sweat-dampened shirt clung to his broad shoulders, and a lock of thick, dark hair fell over his eye, tousled by an hour of dancing. I had the sudden urge to brush it back from his forehead.
My pulse pounded harder, overpowering the music.
The boyish gleam in Kai’s eyes was gone. All the banked heat and desire we shouldn’t acknowledge blazed in its stead.
Shouldn’t. What a strange word, considering I couldn’t think of a single reason why we shouldn’t do anything. In fact, I couldn’t think much at all.
A woozy headiness filled me when his hand slid up my back and around my neck. His head dipped, and my chin tilted up like a flower leaning toward the sun.
Our breaths mingled for a single, breathless moment.
Then his mouth was on mine, and my mind emptied completely. Nothing else existed except this. The heat, the pleasure, the firm pressure of his lips and soft glide of his tongue against mine.
My fingers slid into his hair while I tipped my head back further, giving him as much access as possible. He tasted like whiskey and mint and, God, him. Something so delicious and indescribable I wanted to drown in it.
A moan slipped from my mouth to his. He answered with a tortured groan of his own, his hands tightening around my hip and nape in a way that had heat kindling between my thighs.
My first kiss in two years. It should’ve felt strange or at least a little uncomfortable, but it didn’t. Instead, it felt completely, perfectly right.
My bones liquefied. If he hadn’t been holding me up, I would’ve melted right there in the middle of the dance floor.
There was no denying it. Rigid, proper Kai Young, of the posh accent and boring hobbies, was an incredible kisser.
I would’ve been happy staying in that dark, sweaty basement forever, but an explosion of noise tore us from our bubble with the subtlety of a sledgehammer-wielding giant.
We startled apart as the music segued from smooth R&B to upbeat pop rock.
Kai and I stared at each other, our chests heaving. The change in tempo killed the haze clouding my brain, and a slow horror seeped into my consciousness when I realized what just happened.
“We should—”
“It’s late—”
Our words stumbled over each other, lost beneath the frenetic beats. It didn’t matter. I knew what he wanted to say because the same words echoed through my head.
What have we done?
