The red light in the basement felt like it was pulsating, a rhythmic reminder of the heat that had just filled the room. Aubrey was standing by the edge of the bed, his silhouette sharp against the concrete walls. Kiki was still half-tangled in the sheets, her skin glowing with a faint sheen of sweat that hadn't dried yet.
"You're really doing this," she said, her voice dropping the seductive tone and replacing it with a cold, jagged edge. "You're walking out of here right after that?"
She stood up, the sheet falling to the floor, completely uninhibited. She walked toward him, her body pressing against his back as he reached for his OVO hoodie. She wrapped her arms around his waist, her chest warm against his spine. "Stay, Aubrey. Just for the rest of the night. You can catch a later flight. One more round... for old time's sake."
She began to kiss the back of his neck, her hands sliding down the front of his jeans, her touch a powerful distraction. For a second, Aubrey closed his eyes. The physical pull was immense—the safety of this room, the familiarity of her body, the ego boost of being wanted so desperately.
But then he looked at his suitcase. It was battered, held together by a prayer, filled with the only three outfits he owned that looked "expensive." He thought about the email. He thought about Wayne.
"I can't be that guy anymore, K," he whispered, turning around in her arms. He grabbed her wrists, gently but firmly. "If I stay here, I'm choosing a life that ends at the city limits. I need more."
He saw the flash of hurt in her eyes before she masked it with a sneer. "Go then," she snapped, stepping back. "Go be a star. Just don't come back here looking for this when you realize those people don't actually know you."
Aubrey didn't say a word. He zipped his bag, grabbed his BlackBerry, and walked up the stairs. He didn't look back at the basement, but as the cold Toronto air hit his face, he felt the first sting of what it meant to leave someone behind for a dream.