Freestyle (Academy of Stardom Book 1)
Freestyle: Chapter 9

“Kid, you fucking aced that!” Dax laughs, picking me up and spinning me around, not caring that the whole club is watching. My legs lift off the floor as we both enjoy our moment of success as the crowd cheers and hollers around us. Beating Trey and Nazeen in the doubles battle is something we’ve been working towards for months now. All that hard work and hours of practicing together has finally paid off. In Da Club by 50 Cent was the song picked at random to battle too, an oldie but it still packs a punch even now.

“Give it up for Pen and Dax!” Little Dynamite roars over the mic one last time.

The club erupts once again as people cheer and hoot at our success. Dax settles me back onto my feet as Zayn, Xeno and York push through the crowd barrelling into us both.

“You fucking did it!” Zayn explodes with happiness.

“What the fuck man, that was insane shit right there!” York fist bumps Dax and pulls me into a tight hug.

“Best of the best. That was a tough crowd to please,” Xeno says, grinning widely.

“I’m so fucking pumped right now!”

I’ve never seen Dax so happy. Yes, this might be Rocks, an illegal club that turns a blind eye to the underage kids that come here and sells booze and harder drugs to anyone who can afford it, but we’ve never come here for that. This has always been about the dance. Winning tonight means everything to us, because even though Dax and I claimed the title, it belongs to all of the Breakers.

“Well, I reckon we all deserve a drink to celebrate. I’ll grab ‘em. You guys sit,” York says, before jogging over to the bar.

Dax puts his arm around my shoulder, and we head to a quieter area of the club to relax and regroup. The place is packed tonight, and the atmosphere’s pumping. All night long the guys have had a stream of girls chatting them up. For a while Xeno disappeared with one particularly good looking blonde, and Zayn was side-tracked by a girl who had insanely long legs and curvy tits and arse. Even York had his head turned by a petite brunette, though I didn’t stick around long enough to see if he took her up on her offer. Dax was the only one tonight who remained by my side, and I’m betting that was more to do with the fact we were battling together, and he didn’t want to jeopardise that in any way. It’s not as if he didn’t have a long line of girls ready and willing to climb up his… pole, stick, lollipop, banana?

Well, if they can call a clit a pickle then I sure as fuck can call their dicks a generic term too, right? I swallow my smile at the thought, my skin flushing. I’ve been thinking about their dicks a lot lately. Well, not strictly just their dicks, though I am intrigued. I’ve been thinking about them. All of them. Feelings have crept in. Feelings that I can’t and don’t want to control. Feelings that go way beyond friendship into an unknown, scary-as-fuck, zone.

Thankfully, for now, they all seem content enough to be by my side and I try not to let their womanising ways get to me. It’s not easy, but tonight I’m going to think happy thoughts and not ones where I’m tit-punching the next girl who comes onto one of my Breakers.

“Next up is the group battles, and this time there’s prize money to be had,” Xeno says with a sly grin as York rests a tray of drinks on the table. He hands them out to each of us. A bottle of light beer for Zayn, brandy over ice for Xeno, Bailey’s for York, whiskey for Dax and a Malibu and cola for me.

“Yeah? That’s new,” York muses.

Xeno sips on his drink, grinning. “It’s an easy win. We’re better than all of the crews here.”

“How much is the prize money?” Dax asks, leaning forward in his seat. His thick, muscular thigh presses against the side of mine. My cheeks heat at the touch. This time, I don’t shift my leg away like I normally would. Instead, I press my thigh firmly against his, feeling brave even though my heart is thundering. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder at me, and I can’t help but smile behind the rim of my glass.

“Five thousand,” Xeno responds. “We could all do with the money, right?”

Dax whistles. “I ain’t gonna lie. A thousand pounds would come in handy.”

“Then it’s a no brainer. We enter the competition,” York says with a shrug.

“Fuck, yeah. I’ve already got shitloads of ideas.” Zayn’s grin widens, and I can see the cogs whirring as he goes into choreographer mode. Generally, battles aren’t choreographed and happen spontaneously. However, as this is a competition with winnings, choreography will be expected, which means we can get as creative as we want.

“That’s settled then. Bring it fucking on!” Xeno exclaims. He raises his glass, and we all do the same, chinking them against one another. A surge of happiness rushes through me as I look around the table at my Breakers. My Breakers.

A familiar beat drops as Da Rockwilder by Method Man blasts out over the speakers.

“Tuuunnnneeee!” we all chorus, jumping up as the excitement of our win and the upcoming battle scorches like fire in our veins. I feel high on life, on the adrenaline of the win and tonight, loving these boys in secret.

Xeno and Zayn are on the dance floor first, barging their way through the crowd and not giving a fuck who they knock out of the way. York follows, his feet tapping like lightning over the hardwood floor as he mashes up street with tap dance. The effect is insane and pride swells. Just yesterday we’d watched Singing in the Rain together, and after a few tries, York had perfected one of the more difficult sequences in the movie. I recognise some of those steps now. I’m forever in awe of his talent. He’s so fucking gifted when it comes to tap.

Dax and I follow, my hand gripped within his. Happiness makes my heart beat wildly. I’m pumped up by the music, our recent win, and the fact that Dax hasn’t let my hand go even though we’re in the middle of the dance floor surrounded by the rest of the Breakers.

The air is charged, electric. Booze, happiness and the recent high of our win fuelling us. The surrounding dancers move back, giving us room, sensing we’re about to give them one hell of a show. Dax grips my hand tight and pulls me against his chest, laughing freely at the surprise on my face. He leans over and presses his mouth against my ear.

“Dancing with you, Kid, is better than sex.”

I let out a nervous laugh. Since when has sex and me ever been mentioned in the same sentence? I’ll tell you when, never. When I look up at Dax, my heart trip-traps in my chest like a billy goat crossing a bridge just waiting for an ogre to come along and ruin its happiness. That thought seems all too perfectly timed with Dax’s scowl as his gaze snaps up.

“Hey, Pen, fancy pairing up with me?” Frederico, leader of Dante’s Crew and an arsehole of the highest magnitude asks as he yanks me out of Dax’s hold. Before I can even push him away, he’s grasping my arse like he owns it, rocking me against his half-mast cock.

“Get off me!” I shout, pushing at his chest and slamming my clenched fist into his chin for good measure. The pain in my knuckles is overshadowed by my anger and Dax’s roar.

“You fucking cunt!” His rage drawing the attention of the other Breakers and sending the surrounding dancers scattering. Zayn, York and Xeno step up. This isn’t the first time they’ve had to fight for my honour, and it isn’t the first time I’ve been mauled by some opportunist prick either, but so openly and brazenly in front of the Breakers, never. Frederico must be that high, or plain stupid. Either way, he doesn’t get a chance to touch me again because right now Dax has him by the throat in a death grip.

“Motherfucking cunt. Do not touch our girl!” Dax spits.

Realisation dawns on Frederico’s face and through the haze of alcohol and cocaine, he begins to understand the error of his ways. Pity then that Dax has his throat gripped so tightly, he can’t actually speak.

“Dax, it’s cool. He’s fucking high,” I say, pushing the flat of my hand against his heaving chest. I can see the remnants of white powder dusting Frederico’s nose. He’s our age, and something close to sympathy overtakes my anger. I reach up, trying to pry Dax’s hand from around his throat. “This is the drug talking, Dax. No one needs to get hurt tonight. I doubt he’ll even remember what he said come morning.”

My stomach coils at the look of cold disgust on Dax’s face aimed squarely at Frederico. He won’t let this go. He won’t let him go. Shit.

“Dax, it’s not worth it.” I stand before him, trying to ease him back but I recognise that look in Dax’s eyes. I’ve seen it before. He’s going to erupt, and when he does, it won’t be pretty.

“Please,” I cajole, cupping his face. Dax flicks his gaze to mine, then releases Frederico who gasps for air.

“Come near her again and you’re dead,” Dax promises, before wrapping his arm around my shoulder and attempting to walk away.

“Ah, come on, man. Just a little taste. I promise I’ll get her ready for you boys. Sharing is caring, right?” Frederico pushes, too fucking high to see sense after all. I stiffen, ready to put myself between Dax and the fucking imbecile when York lunges for me, wraps an arm around my waist and yanks me backwards out of harm’s way.

“No way, Titch. He had his chance to walk away. This dude fucking deserves all he gets,” he murmurs into my ear.

I watch with sick fascination as Dax launches himself at Frederico, laying into him with a punch that launches him backward into the baying crowd who push his stumbling body back towards Dax. Blood pours from Frederico’s nose, the combination of regular cocaine use and the power of Dax’s punch most likely breaking his nose. The kid’s so out of it that he doesn’t even register the pain or the heavy bleeding.

“What? We all know that you’re all fucking her. Sharing ain’t a problem with you lot, is it?” he argues back, blood leaking into his mouth and staining his white teeth, red.

York tenses around me, out of the corner of my eye I can see Zayn’s expression change from derision to explosive anger, but it’s Xeno’s calm control that scares me the most.

“Do it,” he snarls.

Dax looks between me and Xeno, and nods once. There is no hesitancy in Dax’s attack, just a resolute kind of rage as he runs at Frederico like a cyclone about to destroy everything in its path, and by destroy I mean kill.

“Stop!” I shout, struggling to get out of York’s hold and pull Dax off of Frederico now that he’s straddling Frederico’s chest, pummelling him with vicious blows. No one seems to care that he’s turning into a bloody mess aside from me, and whilst I hate the cocksucker for what he just said, I don’t want this to go any further for Dax’s sake.

“Fucking stop!” I yell again, elbowing York’s chest so he loosens his hold enough to let me go. I fly towards Dax, yanking at his arm. When he gets like this, I fear for him. You don’t live with abuse and have it not affect you in some way. Dax is used as a punching bag on the daily, and this is the result: an unstoppable, uncontrollable rage. If I know him like I think I do, he’s imagining his dad’s face beneath his fist right now, because when the rage takes over all you see are the people who hurt you the most.

“Enough!” I pull at him as hard as I can, and somehow manage to yank him off Frederico. We end up in a heap, sprawled out on the floor. The kid’s a mess, his face swollen and bloody, but he’s still breathing, just.

I don’t think, I act.

“We need to get out of here,” I shout, rushing to my feet. I pull Dax up with me, catching the violence in his eyes that has my heart racing and my blood pumping. “We have to go!”

Tugging on his arm, we push through the crowd. I don’t look back. The Breakers know what to do. They’ll run too, and this mess will be cleared up by Jeb.

It’s not the first time a fight has broken out in Rocks and it won’t be the last. This place runs on dance, music, drugs, alcohol, and violence. There’s an unspoken rule that if someone gets fucked-up in this place, then there’s never any repercussions with the law. No police. Ever. Not unless you want to live. That’s something to be grateful for at least, though I’m not foolish enough to believe that Dax will get away with this. He’ll owe Jeb a debt now, and Dante’s Crew will be gunning for our blood.

Yanking on Dax’s hand, we run. The crowd parts and I head towards the exit at the back of the club not wanting to leave by the front in case we get jumped. Pushing through the fire exit, we step out into the night. Fear lodges in my throat as I pull Dax down the darkened alleyway, my foggy breaths wispy in the cold night air. When I realise that no one is following us, I stop to catch my breath.

“Dax, are you okay?” I ask, pulling him into a darkened recess and pushing him up against a locked door there. He stares at me with an absent kind of violence, locked inside a moment in time that has nothing to do with Frederico and everything to do with the abuse he endures at the hands of his dad. “Dax…?”

He raises his hand, his fingertips shaking as he blinks away whatever memory he’s trapped within. I capture his fingers in mine, not caring that they’re covered in Frederico’s blood, only caring about him, about his state of mind. He would’ve killed him. Maybe the violence had started because he was defending my honour, but it became something else.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” I reassure him, clutching his hand, and pressing his palm against my cheek. His skin on mine seems to register deep within and I see recognition flicker within his eyes that change from bleak, to wild, to fearful, as he realises what he’s done.

“Kid, I…”

“Shh, shh. It’ll be okay, but we need to get back to the basement, okay?” I move to turn away, to lead us out of the alley and head to safety, but his hand slips into my hair as he tugs me close until I’m flat against his body.

“I saw red…”

“I know. We can talk about this later. We need to go.”

His hold tightens. “He groped you like you were a piece of meat. How fucking dare he touch you like that.”

“It’s okay, Dax. He was high. It’s done. It’s over.”

His fingers curl in my hair, tugging on the strands as his jaw tenses and his arm wraps around my back, trapping me against his body. “You’re ours, Kid. Ours,” he growls and something in his eyes gives me pause.

Possession. He’s always been protective of me, but this is different. This is more.

“Dax…?” I question as he shifts me in his hold, his legs parting. I slot between them, a perfect fit.

“I want to kiss you,” he grinds out, as though saying those words are a combination of pain and relief.

“You want to kiss me?” I parrot back, my voice quiet, a whisper.

He leans down, pulling me tighter against his body. “I’m going to kiss you, Kid.” And this time my response is swallowed by his lips and nose crashing against mine.

“Ow,” I pull back, rubbing at my nose and laughing a little.

“Shit, sorry,” he cups my face with both hands now, pressing a sweet kiss against the tip of my nose. It’s cute and sexy and I don’t know what to do next. Words trip out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“Don’t apologise. It’s me, I don’t… I haven’t… Fuck.”

“What?” he asks, frowning.

“I haven’t kissed anyone before,” I say in a whoosh of breath, partly worried about the fact we’re still standing here and not running, and partly ashamed of my lack of kissing skills and experience. I’m well aware that I’m lagging behind when it comes to this kind of stuff but by the time I was interested in kissing anyone, the only people I wanted to kiss happened to be my best friends and they’ve never showed me the slightest bit of interest until now.

“What, never?”

“I’ve been hanging out with you guys for the past couple years. I don’t really get the chance to hook up with anyone.” I don’t want to.

“Good.” He grinds out, then bites down on his lip. He smiles a little sheepishly, and my heart lifts as some of the darkness dissolves from his gaze. “Then that’ll make me your first kiss, right?”

“You really want to kiss me…?”

“Are you kidding? Of course, I want to.” He brushes blood-streaked fingertips against my cheek with shaking hands. Nerves steal my voice and all I can do is look at him helplessly. “Tip your head to the side, Kid,” he says, his tone gravelly, deep, as though something is lodged in his throat.

I do as he asks, tipping my head to the side, trying not to think too much about the mechanics of a kiss or whether I’ll mess this moment up. This time when Dax leans in to kiss me, our noses don’t crash together, but my heart? That crashes and thrashes like a piston inside my ribcage, reminding me I’m still here, still alive and not caught up in one of my fantasies I’ve been indulging in over these past few months.

His mouth feathers against mine, hesitant at first, uncertain, but even that light touch is enough to make my knees quake. I’m aware of everything. His heaving chest, his firm body pressed against mine, the tremor of his hands clasping my face. I curl my fingers into the material of his t-shirt not sure if I’m pulling him closer, or hanging on for dear life. My skin tingles and my breath hitches as his tongue sweeps across my lower lip. He groans, one hand sliding into my hair as the other drops to my side, wrapping around my lower back. His fingers flex and just for a moment he hesitates, his mouth parted as though he’s deciding whether he should step over the invisible line that exists between me and him.

“Kiss me, Dax. Please, just kiss me.” I don’t mean for it to come out breathless, but I can’t help it. I feel lightheaded as it is. Swallowing my nervousness I close the minute gap between us and press my lips against his. I want this. I’m done waiting. My fantasies aren’t enough anymore. This was the last thing I thought would happen tonight, but now that it is I don’t want anything to get in the way.

Dax grunts, his fingers tightening in my hair and tugging on the strands as his tongue bypasses my lips, searching, cautious and oh so fucking gentle. For all his violence, Dax kisses with a softness that makes me want to clamber up his large frame and wrap myself around him. Instinctively, I press my crotch against him wanting to relieve the building sensation I feel between my legs. He’s hard and I stop grinding, not sure what to do. I have no experience dealing with this and I’m well aware that the movement of my body is making him react this way. A rumbling kind of noise vibrates through his chest and rather than breaking off the kiss, Dax slides both his hands over my arse, squeezing tighter and just like that, I forget that this is my first kiss. I forget we’re in an alleyway running from his violence.

My body melts into him as though we were always meant to be this way and my hands replace their way up and under his shirt, loving the way his skin feels against the palms of my hand. Tasting the remnants of whisky on his tongue, I revel in the feel of him. Emotions catapult inside my chest like a pinball in one of those arcade games we love to play, ricocheting against my internal organs. My heart beats faster, my stomach fills with a million butterflies, my lungs desperately claw for air as I forget to breath and just dive headfirst into moment more than willing to drown.

They say your first kiss is unforgettable, that no matter who it’s with, it will be ingrained in your soul forevermore. Good, bad, indifferent, it doesn’t matter. This kiss is one for the memory banks. It marks me, making a notch in my heart that I will treasure forever. This kiss is perfect.

We lean into each other, me on my tip-toes, held upright in his strong arms. Dax crowding over me, making me feel both small and big all at the same time. When we part, all heaving chests, and whispered thoughts, I smile up at him, pressing my hand over the thrashing beat of his heart.

“You’re my dark angel, Dax, do you know that?

“I am?”

“Yeah, you are.” He smiles, and it’s so beautiful that for a moment I can’t speak.

“Will you always protect me like that?”

“Always, Kid.”

Capturing his hand in mine we run down the alleyway, unaware that our kiss and whispered promises were witnessed by another.