Feel. Want. Take. The song seduces me, and I seduce those who watch.
I push onto the tips of my toes and hold for a few seconds, enjoying the stretch of calf muscles. When I return to flat feet, my hands go to my waist. I’m about to start a slow grind to the floor when the music hiccups.
“You have a message,” G says. “Urgent.”
I freeze, heart seizing in my chest as the song’s crescendo reaches its peak. Breathe. Relax.
I should open it. Tagged as urgent can only mean one thing, but I hesitate instead.