The dancer turns, touches the ground and twerks, smiling over her shoulder at him. My own hands fist. His gaze drops to my sides. He notices. He’s mad. Hurt. Jealous. My stomach aches with the same feelings. His wonky jaw twitches. He’s miserable. He should come to me. I want him here. Away from her. Where he belongs. Even if it’s crazy. Even if I’m crazy.
