In Love with the Prince (of Darkness, That Is)

"Let's dance."

Taylor spun to face her. "Are you off?"

"Just a break."

"Next song is yours, then."

The next song turned out to be for a Latin cha-cha-cha, a slow, sensual dance with complicated rhythms. Dreama chuckled nervously and dropped her head.

"Embarrassed?" Taylor prodded.

Dreama snapped her head up. "Of course not," she replied defiantly. "I'm a professional."

"Good." He held out a hand with a tiny flourish, and Dreama took it.

"So tell me about yourself," he requested when they were nearly through.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything you care to share."

"Ooh, that's dangerous. Hmm... the other day my friends and I got caught skinny dipping in the quarries after dark."

He laughed. "How'd you get out of that one?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Please, end my suffering."

Dreama laughed. "I gave the guard ten numbers."

"Any calls lately?"

"I didn't give him mine."

"Oh?"

"I gave him my boyfriend's cell."

His face fell. "You have a boyfriend. Oh."

Dreama couldn't help but laugh at his expression. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh," she squeaked out. "Um...." She choked back another laugh in an attempt to regain her composure. The dance ended abruptly and he pulled her against his chest. She tipped her head back to gaze up the three inches into his eyes. "Not at the moment," she whispered.

"That's nice to know."

"Is it?"

"Dray! Food's up!" Steve yelled from behind the bar.

"Coming," she tossed over her shoulder. "That's me."

"I'll talk to you later."

She grinned and let go of his hand, and walked backward for a few steps before turning around and completing the walk to the other end of the club.

*~*~*~*

"Hey, babe."

Dreama looked up, and instead of being met with the blue eyes she expected--wanted--to see, she was met with Thomas's green orbs. She sighed in exasperation. "Hello, Thomas. Can I get you something?"

"When do you get off?"

"Ten minutes."

"Let me drive you home."

"Why?"

"Come on, you know I don't mean to blow up at you like that. I.... Just let me take you home."

"If you can't even give me a proper apology, why would I want to stay in the same car as you?"

"Why do you have to be so difficult?"

"Why do you have to be so possessive? I don't belong to you, Tom."

"You're my girlfriend!"

"You walked out on me!" she retorted angrily. "And we've gone over this--the fact that we date once in a while does not make me your girlfriend."

"I didn't realise there was another name for the girl you date."

"We are not dating!" Dreama cried. "We never were! We just went out a couple times!" She turned away to make another drink for a woman at the end of the bar who had flagged her down.

Thomas's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Dreama turned, fist raised to knock him off. Before she had a chance to do anything, however, a hand appeared on Thomas's shoulder, accompanied by a clear, deep voice, and Thomas let go of her as if he'd been burned. "I think the lady has made it quite clear that she is finished speaking with you."

"And who the hell are you?" Thomas demanded.

"A concerned citizen. Now please, don't make me repeat myself."

"Taylor, it's fine. Honestly."

"You know this tool?"

"Thomas, I know you're a prick, but could you pretend that you have manners for about ten minutes? Thanks, love. Taylor, I can handle myself, thank you."

"I can see that."

"Not... now."

"Later, then?"

"Are you hitting on her?" Thomas demanded. "Excuse me, that's my girlfriend you're talking to."

"I am not your girlfriend!" Dreama protested.

"Dray?" Steve shouted from the back room. He was sticking his head out, and had been watching the argument since it started.

She turned. "Yes, Steve?"

"You can go, if you need to."

"You're an angel."

"You remember that come Christmas."

Dreama didn't even have enough energy to want to change, so she just turned to Taylor. "Can you take me home, please?"

"Of course. My car's out this way."

Dreama followed him out to a bright blue 2003 Corvette Z06. Dreama whistled low. "Nice car!"

He looked back and grinned. "You like it? My dad bought it for me as a gift."

"For what, a lifetime of missed birthdays and Christmases?"

"It was a celebration present."

"Celebrating what?"

"My acceptance to Yale."

Dreama slid into the custom black and blue leather seats. "This is gorgeous!"

"I thought so, too." He turned over the engine and shifted into first gear. "So where am I going?"

"The Napolean apartment complex on Baker."

"Got it. Tell me some more about you, besides that you like swimming."

"Well, I'm turning twenty in just a few months, I like cars and sports, I've never wanted to be anything in life but a dancer, and I have three brothers."

"Older?"

"Two of them are, yes."

"What about your parents, what do they do?"

Dreama looked down at her hands. "My mom's been gone as long as I can remember. My dad passed a couple months ago."

Taylor looked ready to slap himself. "I'm sorry. See, this is what I get for being nosey; now I've gone and upset you. Forgive me, I shouldn't have pried. And I'm really sorry about your dad."

"Thank you, and don't worry about it. You had no way of knowing."

"So what happened in there?"

"Thomas and I have an... odd relationship. He's is one-hundred percent convinced that I am his one-and-only, and his exclusive girlfriend, and I have told him time and time again that I am not. Either of those things, actually. It's not that I don't like him, because he's a really great guy when he isn't acting jealous like that, and I'm a total sucker for those eyes, but...."

"You're not ready to be tied down," Taylor guessed, glancing over at her as he turned a corner.

"Yes! Thank you! I don't get why he can't understand that; I'm nineteen years old, and I don't want to be thinking about marriage or kids. Besides, I work at night, in a bar--not exactly a dream job if you're raising children. I give lessons, too, in the afternoons, but... you can't support a family on it."

"Maybe not. But they sound like your dream job."

"Not exactly. I want to go to Juilliard."

Taylor's right eyebrow lifted slightly. "That's a big dream."

"It's a pipe dream," Dreama retorted dryly, and--Taylor thought--sadly.

"There's no such thing as a pipe dream. You're good enough to get in, I think. Hey, if I can get into Yale, you can do anything!"

He parked the car in front of the apartment and unlocked the door to let her out. "No offense, Taylor," Dreama started, "but by the look of this car, you could have afforded to buy your way in if you needed to." She clambered out of the car and headed for the lobby doors.

Taylor scrambled out after her and draped himself over the roof. "When do you have a night off?"

"Thursday."

"Come to my place; I'll make us dinner."

"Your house?" Dreama scoffed. "Right." She turned to go in--he was beside her in a flash.
"I'm serious. Look, I'm not expecting anything, I swear it. I just... look, it's complicated, okay? I'll be a perfect gentleman, though, I promise."

Dreama sighed. She could think of a few reasons to turn him down on the spot, the most prominent of which being that she didn't know a thing about him. What if he turned out to be some crazy--though gorgeous and suave--serial killer? And besides, going to his house for a date might give him the wrong message about the kind of person she was. Maybe it had been a mistake to tell him about the skinny-dipping incident. He probably thought she was easy, or at least a flirt. Well, okay, Dreama allowed with a secret smile, I am a flirt. But she wasn't promiscuous, and she didn't want him thinking anything of the sort.

"I'll think about it," she told Taylor finally. She needed Gemini for this one.

He offered that dazzling, childish grin. "I can't ask for more than that right now, can I? I'm singing at the club again on Tuesday night. I'll get your answer then."

"Sure, why not?"