I am living a double life.
And tonight, I am going to be exposed.
Tonight, people will learn that there are two different sides to me. There is the Lauren I am on campus. Quiet. Introverted. Reserved. Invisible. And then there is the Lauren I am when I step on the dance floor. Loud. Bold. Fierce. Center of attention.
I read the text from my roommate Sydney one more time. I tried to talk them out of it. But they wouldn't back down. We're coming to The Warehouse tonight.
I screw my eyes shut tight and let out a long exhale. It shouldn't surprise me that Sydney couldn't talk her brother and his friends out of coming tonight. It's move-in week, and everyone on campus has been talking about the new club that opened over the summer.
It's been the place to be the last few months. Everyone who is anyone local to Montgomery has been to The Warehouse at least once. And if you are part of a crew? You've been here every weekend trying to win a battle and, more importantly, represent your crew.
I almost didn't show up tonight, with school starting next week. My intuition told me it would be a bad idea, and Sydney just confirmed it. I refuse to let Carter down, though. He's counting on me.
Carter is the leader of the King's Crew. I became a member a little over two years ago. It's been the best thing that's ever happened to me. Joining the crew gave me a home. It's also become one of my biggest secrets. Sydney is the only person at school who knows this little fact about me. Not anymore.
I guess my double life isn't that big of a deal. It isn't like I have a secret family or anything. I'm just worried because I don't know what people will think when they see me dance.
I'm not ashamed. I just don't want people to be like me for the wrong reasons. It's happened before, and I've learned my lesson.
I didn't come to Alabama to make friends. I came here to start over and get an education at Newhouse University. Yet, I somehow found a family with the King's Crew, Sydney, and Nash.
The Warehouse is nearly blacked out except for the LED lights shooting up the walls and strobing around the multiple bars and the dance floor.
I weave my way through a sea of black and gold. Alabama State is representing hard. I bet if I look across the room, a swarm of blue, black, and silver will be found. Newhouse is here too. Perfect.
SYD:
We just parked.
ME:
K. I'll go hide now.
SYD:
You can't hide from me, babe.
Don't I know it.
Sydney and I became roommates freshman year. I tried to keep to myself, but Sydney is a parasite. She wormed her way into my heart in such a way that I didn't even know it was happening until it was too late.
I don't know what I would do without her now. It might be our last year living together, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. As much as part of me is ready for what's next. I also want to hold tight to Sydney for as long as I can.
I love Syd, but I still plan on avoiding her tonight if I can. I need to stay focused and remember why I'm here. Winning. The grand prize tonight is five thousand dollars.
With so many dance crews from ASU, Huntingdon, and Newhouse, Carter thought it would be best to split our crew up. That means I'm dancing on my own tonight, and so is Killer.
I wasn't nervous when Carter told me I was going solo, but looking out into the crowd knowing someone might recognize me. Knowing Sydney is here. Knowing Nash is here with his friends. I'm nervous.
The Warehouse is starting to reach the point of capacity where you sweat standing still, and personal space is a precious commodity you will have to throw elbows for.
I move around the outer edge of the room, fighting my way between groups of people, all while keeping an eye out for Sydney and the guys.
"Can I get a glass of water, please?" I ask the bartender after I push my way through the crowd of bodies.
Maybe hydrating will help me release some of this nervous tension. One can hope.
"You ready?" A deep voice asks from behind my back. I nod. "You know what needs to be done, Lo?"
"I know, Carter."
"Good." He's quiet for a minute, but I can feel him stewing. "Just because you are back on campus doesn't mean you're out of everything."
"I know, Carter. I'm not leaving them. You should already know that. I haven't let them down yet and won't do it now. I need this as much as they do." I feel like I've already proven myself to Carter over the years. It kind of makes me angry that he still questions me and my loyalty.
"I'm here. Okay?"
"Okay." Carter gives my hand a quick squeeze.
"Sorry, I just know tonight is different for you since Newhouse is here. If you're good. I'm good." He doesn't wait for my response. He simply melts back into the crowd.
Blowing out a breath, I move my feet to find another corner to wait for the start of the competition. Carter's words, although infuriating, are also a reminder of why I'm here to begin with. People are counting on me.
Carter is right, though. Tonight is different. There is something in the air. It isn't just the addition of all the college crews. I have a new energy, a hunger I haven't felt before.
There is no way I'm letting anyone take a single step on that dance floor, thinking they have a shot at taking money from my crew. My family.
A lot of people are here for the accolades. They want the title. The college crews want to prove they are better than their rivals. Not me. I'm here for the coin. The dough. The Franklins. The paper.
I'm here to put food on the table and help keep the kids in my neighborhood from doing something they shouldn't just to have a full belly.
I moved across the country to Alabama before the ink could dry on my high school diploma. Once my scholarship came through for Newhouse, I felt hope. I almost didn't recognize the feeling. It was so foreign to me.
I rented a two-bedroom trailer at Royal Oaks. It was nicer than my last place, and it was all mine for the next three months until I moved into my dorm at Newhouse.
During those three months, I kept a watchful eye on everyone who lived in the trailer park. I saw the little kids left alone while their parents went to work. I saw the older ones sneak out at night to do lord knows what.
I may not know exactly what they were doing, but I know how it ends, and it isn't good.
Then I watched Carter. I saw how he moved around the trailer park and interacted with everyone. He was clearly the leader and a big influence. Carter was trying to help the only way he knew how. Pretty sure it wasn't all legal.
I wanted to help too. I decided to keep my trailer year-round so I had a place to stay during breaks and to keep tabs on everyone. A few days after Christmas of my freshman year, I witnessed my first dance battle.
I followed Carter to an old, abandoned building. It looked like something straight out of a dystopian movie. The brick walls were crumbling. There were boards over the windows.
Since there was no electricity, someone brought in generators for the lights and music. There were also a few portable outdoor heat lamps. Not sure why they bothered with those considering there was a giant hole in the roof and enough bodies filling the place to make you sweat.
I hid in the crowd the best I could but found myself creeping toward the front when The Kings started dancing. I recognized everyone from Carter's crew as people who've milled around my neighborhood. Some even spent afternoons camped on the roof of the trailer next door to mine.
After Carter finished dancing, he walked up to me with a menacing scowl. I didn't give him a chance to speak. I simply stated, "I want in." Then he took me by the elbow and smushed me between Zeke and Emilio. Carter gave them some kind of signal with his eyes, ran his hands through his hair, and walked away.
I didn't see him for the rest of the night. The following day, he knocked on my trailer and asked if I could dance. I said yes, and that was it.
I'm starting to sweat as I get boxed in the corner I'm hiding in. The Warehouse is an airplane hangar. The rolltop doors are wide open, making the air conditioning in here irrelevant as the Alabama heat sweeps in.
I push off the wall and make my way around the perimeter of The Warehouse, ignoring the pull of the music to the middle of the room where everyone is dancing.
The music, the lights, the energy of the people, it's a siren's call. My body begs me to migrate with the rest of the flock and let loose.
I rearrange the baseball cap on my head, covering more of my face. It might be dark, but it's not enough to hide my identity. Every time a light streaks across my face blinding panic darts through my body.
I slurp the last of my water and fight to the closest bar for a refill. I need to lower my body temperature and calm my nerves. I need to forget about Sydney and Nash and focus on my goal.
The bartender, Dave, rolls his eyes as he fills my glass. He hates wasting time on me, but he knows better than ignore me since I'm under Carter's protection.
I leave ten dollars on the bar top out of spite and respect. My mom worked in the service industry. If she didn't get good tips, I didn't eat. I don't know who Dave has at home. If my ten dollars gets him more than peanut butter and bread next week, he needs it more than me.
Walking away, I take a sip of my water. Damn, that's refreshing. It is cooling down the fire of nerves flowing through my system. I sidestep a few people, slowly making my way to the wall in the back opposite the bar. I'm almost there when I hear my name.
"Lauren! Lo!" The voice pierces through the thrumming of the music. I turn around and come face to face with my roommate Sydney.
Mother fudger.
Way to be discreet, Syd. Geez! There is no way the guys won't notice me now. There isn't a chance in hell Nash or Koa will let their baby lamb walk too far from the herd with all the wolves looking for prey.
"Hey, babe," Sydney says as she steals my water and takes a giant gulp. "It is hot as balls in here. Thanks, I needed that." She hands me back my almost-empty drink. "You look cute, by the way. I almost didn't recognize you." Syd tugs on my hat.
"Pity you did."
"Oh, come on. It won't be that bad. I don't know why you keep all this a secret anyways."
It's not something people at Newhouse need to know. I'm the only member of my crew who attends the University. Everyone else is either working, attending community college, or trade school. I'm not the type of person who puts myself on blast. But also, no one ever took the time to ask.
"You really don't think it's a big deal? I guess I don't want people to look at me differently. I don't dance for attention." I don't want it. Maybe that's the fear. For someone to finally see me. The real me. Not the watered-down version I am on campus.
"I think you are twenty-two years old and can do whatever you want with your life."
"Right." Syd rolls her eyes.
"I'll prove it to you. Dance with me." I start shaking my head before she can finish the sentence. Sydney places my water glass on a nearby table. Then takes hold of both my hands.
"Sydney," I snap. Nash and Koa are watching the two of us with the acuity of a secret service agent. "I don't think this is a good idea."
"Lo, it's the perfect idea. Consider it a warm-up. A prequel. If you can't handle their reaction to the two of us dancing together, then I will fake a headache and make them take me home."
"All of them?" I ask as my eyes wander over to Wyatt, Hart, and two other guys I've never seen before talking to Nash.
Sydney shakes her head, then says, "I can't promise that, but Nash and Koa would leave with me." Suddenly the DJ mixes one track into the next, and Lizzo's Juice is blasting across The Warehouse. Shit. There is no way I'm getting out of this now.
Sydney makes her 'this is my song' face and starts swaying her hips and bouncing her shoulders to the beat. I can't say no to that face, and she knows it. I also can't turn down Lizzo.
This is the kind of music we put on full blast in our dorm room and dance like no one is watching. That is exactly what Sydney expects me to do here too.
I start moving to the back beat of the song. Stopping every now and then, locking my body to emphasize a word in the song. Sydney and I dance with dramatic flair. It doesn't take long to forget about everyone else and just have fun with my best friend.
When the chorus hits, we sync up our movements as if we choreographed the whole routine. We haven't. It's just Syd's song and one we dance to all the time when we want to feel good.
Before I know it, the song is over, and we have several pairs of eyes on us. One of which is a furious Emilio. I raise an eyebrow and dare him to say something. Of course, he takes the challenge. A few long strides, and he's in my face.
"What are you doing?" He sneers. "You know the rules."
"Easy hombre." Emilio snaps his glare at Sydney, which would make most people cower in fear. Not Syd. She straightens her spine and lifts her chin. "If you want to join us, just ask. I'll pencil you in on my dance card. Mkay?"
I look to the ceiling and let out a deep exhale. I place a hand on Emilio's chest and push him away from Syd. "We were having fun, Emilio. It's cool. Nothing that I did there is in my routine. Let them watch. If that scares them, they aren't prepared for what I will bring to them later."
"Fine. Everyone is on edge. There is a lot more competition than usual."
"Who? I don't see anyone here who can compete with the Kings." A slow grin forms on half of Emilio's mouth. He knows I'm right. "We got this. We will give Carter the shutout he wants. The crew, Killer, and me." Emilio nods. Then scans the crowd.
"You know them?" Emilio flicks his eyes to his right. Syd and I look over to the bar.
"That's just my brother and his friends," Syd explains. "Don't let them scare you away."
"Do I look like someone who gets scared, princesa?" Sydney's eyes take a leisurely stroll over Emilio's six-foot-two-inch frame. His shaved head. Tattoos crawling up his neck and biceps. Nose and ear piercings.
"They don't scare you, but I do." Sydney takes a step closer to prove her point. Unfortunately, it backfires, and she's now standing chest-to-chest with Emilio.
Emilio leans down and whispers something in Syd's ear that I can't hear over the music. Whatever he said has put a pink flush on Sydney's dark skin. She staggers back a step which triggers a laugh out of Emilio.
"I'll see you later, Lo," Emilio says before returning to Sydney. "Princesa," he says, then winks.
Sydney takes hold of my wrist, and we walk toward her brother. Why I don't fight her on this, I have no idea. I think I'm too stunned by what I just witnessed.
"What did he say to you? You're blushing." Syd looks at me, looks away, and then looks at me again. Okay, now I'm starting to get concerned.
"Lauren. I'm here, right?" Syd pats her face and rubs her hands up and down her arms.
"Yes," I say, drawing out the word.
"Okay, good. Good. It's just; I feel like I passed out like an old church lady who got hit with the holy spirit or something." Syd starts fanning herself. "I have never had anyone say such dirty things to me before. And I liked it."
"Let's get you a drink."
"Yes. I definitely need one of those. How do you hang out with guys like that all time?"
"They don't look at me like a princesa," I snark.
"Brat," she teases back.
What I don't ask is how she can hang out with Koa, Wyatt, and Hart without stuttering and stammering over her words. These guys are gorgeous. Nash is too, but he's her brother. Spending time with him could be easy or miserable, depending on their mood.
"Who was that?" Nash asks gruffly, as any brother would, I suppose. He's protective of his sister. Koa is also waiting in the wings for our answer.
"A friend of Lauren's."
"No one."
We answer at the same time.
I glare at Syd. Way to throw me under the bus. I don't know Wyatt, Hart, or Koa well, if at all. I see them around campus in passing or briefly when I'm hanging out with Sydney or Nash. I think I've even had a class or two with one of them. I don't really pay attention.
Regardless, none of them, Nash included, has earned the right to know more about my personal life. It isn't their concern who my friends are. They wouldn't have bothered asking if I wasn't with Sydney. I'm sure.
"A friend? You know him?" Nash narrows his eyes on me. They are a light honey color which compliments his dark skin. I nod. Afraid I will say the wrong thing in front of a bunch of people I don't know.
Two of the guys I've never seen before, but they seem friendly with Hart. The word friendly is a loose term. Hart and the stranger to his right both look like caged rottweilers. They are ready to fight off anyone who poses a threat to Sydney, including me.
Nash places a hand on my back, leading me closer to the group. As Nash escorts me, I see a slight flare of Hart's nostril and a tick in his jaw. He isn't very happy with me. I didn't realize all of Nash's friends were so protective over Sydney.
I know Nash, Koa, and Hart all played baseball together in High School. Sydney has told me multiple stories about them hanging out and going to parties. Even though Nash is a year behind us, he's always been close with these guys.
"Who is he?" My eyes jump around to all the guys waiting for my answer. Wyatt and the other stranger I don't know look amused by the whole situation.
"Give her a break Nash. She doesn't answer to you, and neither do I. We are big girls. We can have conversations with strangers if we want to."
Without moving his eyes off of me, Nash says, "It's currently not the strangers that concern me. How do you know him, Lauren? He looks like he's in a gang." Sydney laughs, and I glare at her. Technically we aren't a gang. We're a crew.
"He lives in her neighborhood. End of discussion." Sydney stomps off toward the bar and maneuvers herself between the two guys I've never seen around Newhouse, so she can order a drink.
Nash glances at me, shakes his head, and turns away to talk to Koa. I stand awkwardly, rubbing my palms together and nibbling on my bottom lip until Sydney returns with two beers. She passes me one, and I waste no time taking a sip. I move to my right so she can stand between Nash and me.
Maybe if there is some space between us, he won't ask me any more questions about my neighbor Emilio. Regrettably, this puts me far too close to Hart. I'm practically standing on his feet. The slightest tap on my shoulder would send me barreling into his arms.
"Hart, Wyatt, Koa, y'all remember my roommate, Lauren," Sydney says. I give them a slight nod. "Lauren, these two here," she points to the two guys I've never met, "are Enzo and Marco. We went to high school with them too, but they ditched us for ASU." I smile and nod. Then take a sip of my beer.
"They're single," Sydney stage whispers the last bit intended for my ears only. But let's be honest. EVERYONE. HEARD. HER.
Good Lord, Sydney.
"Good to know," I mumble to myself. I swear she does this stuff to me on purpose to push me out of my comfort zone.
I should let her know she has succeeded. I'm completely uncomfortable. I am ready to dissolve into the crowd and wait for my name to be called, take my money, and go home.
The guys carry on private conversations, occasionally glancing or glaring in my direction, depending on who it is.
Wyatt leans over Enzo and Marco to say something to Hart that causes his scowl to deepen. I bet he has some major forehead wrinkles hiding under his backward cap.
"What do you think?" Sydney asks, slinking her arm through mine.
I give her a cursory once over. "I love your outfit. You look hot tonight," I tell her with a cheery tone.
"Thank you, but I'm not fishing for compliments here, and you know it. What do you think of the guys? Anyone strike your fancy?"
"No." I lie. Every single one of these guys are good looking. I'm not blind. I'm also not interested. Nash is like a brother. Marco and Enzo are strangers. Wyatt is a playboy. Koa and Hart hate me if I had to go by the looks on their face.
"How are you immune to all of this?" Her head bobs toward the boys.
"If you are asking me that, it means there is someone here that you are interested in," I say directly into her ear. Sydney swallows hard. Then picks an invisible piece of lint off her skirt.
"It's cute you think I'm going to answer you," she says in a hushed tone. I could press her, but it's clear she's not ready to share. I've been around Sydney enough to know that she doesn't talk unless she wants to.
Enzo steps in front of Sydney and me enclosing us in a circle with him and Hart. I'm caught off guard by his eyes for a moment. They're a beautiful hazel green with a band of gold in the middle. Stunning.
"Sydney." He gives her a nod.
"Enzo." She nods back, but she isn't hiding her sly smile. I give her a look that says to stop whatever she is trying to do. It won't work.
"How do you know these guys?" Enzo asks me.
"I don't." I keep my answers concise. "I know her." Enzo eyes me curiously but doesn't push the conversation.
"I grew up playing baseball with them. I've known Hart my whole life," Enzo adds. Hart grunts. I smile in acknowledgment but don't say anything. I will blame it on the loud music and chaos of the club if anyone says something.
"Are you from Alabama?"
"No," I say as Sydney says, "Lauren is from Seattle." I throw a dagger in her direction for giving away my personal information for free.
"Seattle." Enzo lets the word settle over him. "I've never been, but my father has been before. He worked there for a long time. Traveled back and forth when I was younger." His eyes glaze over momentarily before he shakes out of whatever memory his mind trapped him in. I'm not sure why he is sharing so much information about his dad with someone he just met. I would never do that.
Hart is quietly observing our entire interaction with laser precision. He glares at Enzo, who is now staring at me. It is all bizarre. I feel like I'm under a microscope. Every twitch of my body is being documented for further examination.
I turn to Sydney for help, but she is deep in a conversation, more like a lecture, with Koa and Nash. Great. Just great. I need to get out of here before this situation becomes even more awkward.
"Why Alabama?" I tilt my head slightly, confused by Enzo's question. "Why not stay in Washington State? Why did you come here?" Enzo says the word 'here' as if it's a place I don't belong. I open my mouth to defend my choice, but a large arm blocks my vision.
Hart put his hand on Enzo's chest. With a sharp shake of Hart's head, he calls off Enzo's interrogation. Enzo's eyes narrow in on Hart's while Hart's fingers curl tighter in Enzo's shirt. "Fine," Enzo clips. "Lauren," he says to me before stalking away to the bar with his brother.
I don't know what just happened or why Hart felt the need to intervene, but I'm appreciative. Seattle isn't something I talk about. All Sydney knows is that I lived there before college. Seattle is in my past, and that is where I want to keep it.
"Th-Thank you," I stammer out. Hart doesn't respond in words or actions. He stares out into the crowd. Hart's black eyes roam the sea of dancers. Now and then, a flash of light hits his eyes, and they turn a beautiful grey color.
Hart's eyes flick to me before scanning the crowd again. His lip twitches so fast I almost miss it. He's pleased he caught me ogling him. I should be embarrassed, but for some reason, I'm not.
I'm not the only girl looking at Hart tonight. He is wearing the universal uniform of fuckboys everywhere. Low-slung jeans, a dark tee shirt that molds to his chest, shoulders, and biceps, a backward hat, and bright white kicks on his feet.
Bulging veins and a smattering of black ink tattoos accentuate Hart's bronze skin. But the hard lines of his face really pull you in. You ache to be the girl who makes a guy like him crack. You know whatever he is hiding would be worth sacrificing part of yourself to see. You want to be the one who is powerful enough to bring a man like him to his knees.
Hart looks like he is the type of guy who would never let that happen. It doesn't matter if he catches me looking at him. Hart would never let a woman, especially one like me, get close to him.
"You need another drink." Wyatt's words and closeness make me jump. For some odd reason, I find myself retreating closer to Hart as if he is here for my protection.
"I'm good. But thanks." I smile or attempt to.
"Oh, come on. One more. My treat, darlin'," Wyatt says, smiling big and showing off dimples that could easily zap the last of my working brain cells.
Darlin'. I've never been anyone's darling. When Wyatt returns with a new drink, he places it in my hands. I mumble a thank you and take a sip. Secretly I'm plotting my revenge on Sydney for leaving me vulnerable.
"Have you been here before?" Wyatt asks with genuine interest. The question gets everyone's attention in our group.
"Yes," I reply, sipping my beer.
"When?" Nash asks with a crease in his brow.
"Before." Do they expect details? Does Nash want to know how I spend all my free time with the residents of Royal Oaks trailer park? Does he want to know that I am a resident too?
"Who are you here with?" I run my eyes over everyone in our group and then back to Nash, trying to imply I'm only here with them. "Lauren, I didn't even know you were coming tonight."
"She doesn't owe you an explanation, Nash," Sydney tells her brother. "Lauren is a big girl. She can do whatever she wants. She can take care of herself." I nod in agreement.
"You're not a big girl. You're five foot nothing. I worry about you." Nash's voice is low and gravelly. I lift my face to him to see under the bill of my hat.
"Don't. I'm fine," I grit out the words. I don't want Nash worrying about me.
"Damn, Lauren. You're worse than Hart," Koa says, chuckling and nodding toward his buddy. "Neither of you can say more than three words at a time." Hart tenses beside me. Meanwhile, I slant my eyes on Koa. For some reason, I want to defend Hart. Which is absolutely ridiculous. He wouldn't do the same for me.
"I'll speak when someone asks me a question they have the right to know the answer to. I don't owe any of you an explanation on what I do with my time or who I spend that time with."
Someone coughs. There's a low whistle from someone else. Nash searches my face to see if I'm bluffing. Maybe he thinks I'll take the words back, but I won't. I mean every one of them.
Nash isn't my brother. He's not my boyfriend. He barely knows me. He just thinks he does. Nash squeezes my shoulder, dips his head, and walks toward the loft stairs.