Besides which, I don’t want to. I don’t want to think about Adam and the way he looked at me, the way I saw him decide to trust me. I don’t want to think about how normal and safe it made me feel when he was driving. I don’t want to think about things like normal and safe, things I can’t have. I don’t want to do anything tonight, nothing at all, but spin and pulse and pound. My fingers cannot tap tap tap when I am dancing. Annie can’t betray me while I’m dancing. James can’t use me. I can’t hear my own thoughts. I haven’t been dancing in four months, not since we left Greece, and I ache for it. I run a few blocks south, then cut in to the city. Not sure where I’m going. I never plan ahead. Learned my lesson about that a long time ago. Thank you, beautiful James. There, ahead of me, a line snaking around a sidewalk. The unmistakable thumping hum of bass that will push right through me. Perfect. I look up and choke on a laugh. The place is called Vision. Of course it is.
