He nods, then puts a hand up to his ear, likehe’s listening to something. “Yo, bro, they’re looking for youinside. Someone’s requesting you,” his voice rumbles.
I turn white.
“I gotta get back,” Lorenzo says claspingRyan’s hand. “It was nice to finally meet you, Alana.”
“Yeah, same here,” I mutter. “Thanks for thesmoke.”
Lorenzo nods, “Anytime for Ryan’s girl.”
“I’m not Ryan’s girl,” I retort.
“Whatever you say,” he responds with a smileand then he walks away.
“How does he know about me?” I ask Ryan assoon as Lorenzo is out of ear shot.
Ryan rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably.“The first night, I, uh, danced, I got piss drunk afterwards andsort of,” he glances away then back at me, “sort of unloaded onLorenzo about you. About us.”
My jaw drops.
“And when was that? The first time youdanced?”
Ryan shrugs, “About a year ago.”
“And what exactly did youtellLorenzo?”
I can’t wait to hear this.
Ryan opens his mouth to talk when Lorenzo’sdeep voice interrupts him, “Bro, they want you inside, likeyesterday.”
“Shit,” Ryan glares at Lorenzo.
“I thought they’d be fine without you for alittle while?” I say passive aggressively.
“Throwing dumpsters,” Ryan shakes his headamused. He tightens the tiny towel around his waist, “Tomorrow,promise you’ll meet me tomorrow? I’ll explain everything,” he putshis hand on my hip and draws me close to him. “Please,” he whispersearnestly.
I think my knees are about to give out, fiveyears, I haven’t heard a peep from him in five years, and yet hestill feels as right now as he did then.
I close my eyes and concede, “I’ll meet you.”I put my hand on his shoulder, his skin soft under my touch.
“Good,” he turns his head and plants a softkiss right on the corner of my mouth causing my whole body toflare.
“Is your number still the same?” he asks ashe pulls away from me.
“Ah, yes,” I answer a little lightheaded.
“Okay, I’ll text you with a time and place,”he says taking my hand, lacing his fingers with mine.
“I won’t hold my breath.”
He lets go and I suddenly feel like I’ve losthim all over again.
“Look, Alana, you can throw all the dumpstersyou want,” he gets in my face, “but hear me, now that I’ve got youback, I’m not letting go of you again.” His eyes flash, and theyare deadly serious.
“Why did you let me go the first time?” Iwhisper desperately.
“Tomorrow,” he demands, but he doesn’t turnto leave. It’s as if he’s warring with himself.
“Can you send Emily out?” I ask.