Chapter 19: Pulse of the Night

Cody POV

Months pass slow and heavy after I end it with Ryan. My chest still hurts every day, like a bruise that won’t fade. I clutch his hoodie some nights, breathing him in until I fall asleep. My dance studio stays quiet. I move stiff, alone, missing his hands on me. Jake checks in sometimes, smirking like he won. I don’t fight him. Tara’s lies and that photo still float online, but I stop looking. Fame broke us. I broke us. My heart’s a mess, shredded and cold.

Tonight, I need out. My apartment’s too small, walls closing in. I pull on tight jeans, dark blue, hugging my legs. A black shirt sticks to my chest, sweaty already. I hit a club downtown. Bass thumps loud, shaking the floor. Strobe lights flash red and blue, bouncing off sweaty bodies. I push through the crowd, air thick with heat and beer. My hair’s damp, blond strands in my eyes. I grab a drink, cold and sharp, sipping fast. My head buzzes, light and loose. I want to forget him. Just for now.

I finish my drink and hit the dance floor. Bodies press close, moving wild. A guy slides up, tall with dark hair. He’s not Ryan, but he’s here. His hands land on my hips, warm and rough. I turn into him, grinding slow. My hips roll easy, matching the beat. His breath’s hot on my neck. I close my eyes, letting it take me. My heart pounds, fast and free. Sweat beads on my chest, soaking my shirt. I move harder, ass brushing him. He groans low, pulling me tighter. It’s good. Not him, but good.

Then I feel eyes on me. Heavy. Sharp. I open mine, scanning the crowd. My stomach flips hard. Ryan’s there. Across the floor, leaning on the bar. Leather jacket hugs his shoulders, dark and shiny. His hair’s messy, eyes locked on me. Dark. Hungry. My breath stops. My legs shake bad. The guy behind me fades, hands slipping off. I can’t move. Ryan pushes off the bar, cutting through people. My heart slams loud, drowning the music. He’s coming. Straight for me.

We collide in the middle. No words. Just heat. His hands grab my waist, pulling me close. My chest bumps his. I smell him, leather and sweat, sharp and good. My hands land on his shoulders, gripping tight. We dance, hips rolling together. The beat shakes us, fast and wild. My cock brushes his through our jeans, hard and hot. I gasp loud, head tipping back. His hands slide down, grabbing my ass firm. I press closer, grinding slow. Sweat drips down my neck. His eyes stay on mine, burning me up. It’s reckless. Public. Hot.

The crowd fades. It’s just us. My fingers dig into his jacket, leather cool under my hands. His hips push harder, matching me. I feel him, thick and ready. My legs tremble, weak from want. I lean in, nose brushing his cheek. His breath’s fast, warm on my face. We move like that night on the rooftop, but rougher now. Needy. My chest tightens, full and raw. I missed this. Missed him. My hands slide down, squeezing his ass back. He groans soft, lips parting. I want them on me. Bad.

Music pounds louder. Lights flash wild. We don’t stop. My shirt rides up, his fingers brushing my skin. Warm. Rough. I shiver hard, pressing tighter. My cock aches, trapped in my jeans. His does too, rubbing me right. I moan low, lost in it. His head dips, forehead on mine. We’re sweaty, messy, alive. My heart’s screaming, torn and loud. I want him back. I hate that I do. My hands grip his neck, holding on. He’s real. Here. Mine again, maybe.

We stumble outside, air cool on my hot skin. The alley’s dark, wet from old rain. He pins me to the wall fast. Brick bites my back through my shirt. His lips crash mine, filthy and deep. His tongue dives in, hot and wet. I kiss back hard, tasting him. Beer and him, sharp and good. He bites my lip, quick and sharp. I groan loud, hands clawing his chest. His fingers slide into my jeans, fast and bold. They wrap around me, stroking slow. My hips buck up, needy. My breath’s shaky, loud in the quiet. “Ryan,” I gasp, voice breaking.

He strokes faster, eyes on me. Dark. Wild. My legs shake bad, barely holding me. His other hand grips my hip, keeping me still. I grab his hair, tugging hard. He groans low, kissing my neck wet. My head spins, dizzy and hot. I’m close, too close. His touch burns me up, like always. My chest heaves, air stuck. I want him. All of him. But it hits me hard—fame, Tara, Jake. I can’t. Not yet.

I grab his wrist, stopping him. “Can’t,” I say, voice small. My throat’s tight, choking me. His hand freezes, eyes wide. I push off the wall, shaky and fast. “Cody,” he says, rough and mad. I don’t look back. My sneakers slap the wet ground, running hard. My heart pounds, wild and torn. I hear him curse loud, “Fuck!” It echoes behind me. My chest hurts, raw and empty. My jeans rub rough, still hard, aching for him. I keep going, trembling bad. Wanting him. Hating it.

I get home, door slamming shut. My apartment’s dark, quiet. My legs give out, dropping me to the couch. My breath’s fast, shaky. Sweat cools on my skin, shirt sticking to me. My hands shake bad, resting on my thighs. I feel him still—his hands, his lips. My chest tightens, full of him. I lean back, eyes shut. The club plays in my head, hips rolling, cocks brushing. My throat burns, hot and dry. I ran, but I want him back. My heart’s a mess, loud and lost.

I sit there, breathing slow. My jeans feel tight, damp from sweat. My fingers trace my lip, feeling the bite. It stings, good and bad. I see his eyes, dark and wild, locked on me. My stomach twists, warm and sick. I left him there, hard and mad. I wonder if he’s still cursing, fists clenched. My chest aches, heavy and cold. Silence wraps me up, too loud. I kick off my shoes, curling tight. My hands shake less now, but my heart won’t stop.

Then my hand brushes my pocket. Something crinkles. My eyes snap open, fumbling fast. A note. Small, folded, shoved in my jeans. My heart jumps, hard and quick. I pull it out, shaky fingers unfolding it. His writing. Messy. “Meet me tomorrow.” My breath stops. He slipped it in, sneaky, at the club. I hear his voice again, “Cody!” shouting after me, raw and close.