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music, we let the drums and trumpet lead our paths. The dance floor became ours as we moved to the beat. He twirled me, dipped me, brought his body close as he pushed his pelvis against to mine. I was high on the music, drunk off his scent, and lost in his moves.
    He pulled me to him and my body went willingly.
    He tugged and I turned for him.
    We were in sync.
    When Weston brought me close, I closed my eyes, imagined us moving together in bed. I wondered if our bodies would react together this beautifully. The ache between my legs didn’t go unnoticed.
    Weston wrapped my arms around his neck, our feet moving to the pace of the song. His forehead rested on mine, and I nearly brought my mouth to his. Licking his perfect and delectable top lip in the most seductive way, he brought me closer, hugged me along his rock hard body. I whimpered when his fingernails dug into my back.
    In his arms, I was mercifully his.
    I wanted more, so much more, but our time together was short-lived as a tap on my shoulder yanked me away from him. The pretty blonde girl stood with a smile on her face.
    “My turn, Wes. Teach me how to dance like her.”
    I pushed my damp hair behind my ears. The moment we shared was gone and reality set back in. He was still Weston, the womanizing musician whom I refused to get involved with. And hell, for all I knew, he wasn't interested either. I didn't have the blonde hair he seemed to like so much.
    “Thanks for the dance.”
    I didn’t wait for him to respond. I held my shoulders high and walked back to Leslie. It was hard to hide my disappointment when Weston stayed on the dance floor with his Blondie, especially since she didn’t have much rhythm; something you needed when dancing salsa.
    I refilled my glass with something stronger than champagne and avoided Weston. He was here with her and I had Marc waiting outside.
    After a few hours, the deejay shouted last call and the lights flashed on. I had a nice buzz and enough pent-up need that I was ready to jump Marc. It was desire that Weston created, but Marc would be the one I used to alleviate the ache.
    We had all moved to the front of the club, sorting out our belongings and getting ready to leave. I kissed Axel goodbye on his cheek before he climbed into his car.
    Leslie had her hand entwined with Harry’s. “You good?” I asked.
    “Peachy.” She hugged me with her free arm. “I’ll see you, manha .”
    Harry ushered her into his car and kissed me goodbye. I waved goodbye and waited for Marc to show up while the valet collected my car.
    Strong hands wrapped around my waist from behind and drew me against a strong chest. I thought it was Marc and pivoted. Weston! I jumped and wrenched away from his affectionate embrace. My palms flew over my heart, my words lost. Where was the blonde?
    He took my hands in his. “Come on.” He tugged on my hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m going to take you home to meet my mom.”
    My eyebrows furrowed and my lips puckered like I had taken a shot of tequila. Ready to give him a piece of my mind, I heard my name called out.
    “Emilia?” Marc stood next to my car.
    I yanked away from Weston’s hold. He had been here with someone else, yet he was asking me to go home with him? I shook my head as I strolled towards Marc. I wanted to give Weston a piece of my mind, but I figured leaving with Marc was a better fuck you.
    “Do you know that guy?” Marc asked as he pulled the car door open for me.
    I shook my head. “Just some asshole.”
    My stomach turned as I thought about Weston one last time . . .
    And then climbed into the car with Marc.

6
    L ate November
    Gravel scattered from underneath the tires as I shifted Leslie's car into park. The massive warehouse-looking building before me stared back, its windowless white walls seemingly endless. Popping the visor mirror open, I gave myself one last look over. “You need the money,” I reminded myself as I reapplied lip gloss.
    My piece of shit car had