Girls in daisy dukes and tank tops spun around skillfully with their bandana wearing boyfriends to the music pounding from portable CD players, swirling around us like we were no real obstacle. Masses of people called Blaze's name when they saw us, proving to me just how notorious the man was, and their curious frowns at our linked hands were a confirmation that this was not his usual means of association. Like I had any doubt. I shook my grip free and folded my hands securely under my arms, painfully aware that I didn't fit in wearing tattered grey slacks and a style-less work shirt. Apparently sensing my insecurity, Blaze pointed at my shirt and shook his head authoritatively. "Off." "Excuse me?" "Okay, not off as such. Undo the bottom buttons and tie it up like a bolero." Sparing a quick glance down, I rolled a foot away from him and turned my back on him. Revealing my midriff in public was possibly a bigger anxiety trigger than if he'd asked me to strip naked.
