I can read a man before he even opens his mouth. I know which ones are starving to be understood, which ones hide their scars in designer suits, and which ones will hand me exactly what I need just for the privilege of feeling seen. I’ve been running this game long enough to turn conversations into currency and eye contact into opportunities. Every move I make is calculated. When I dance, my movements speak to their thoughts before I ever open my mouth. I tell their secrets with the arch of my back, answer their questions with the roll of my hips while I strip them bare mentally. But then there’s Kendrix Givelle. A man who doesn’t ask questions, just studies the way my shoulders drop when I’m tired, the way my smile fades when the weight gets heavy. I’ve built my world on control. On never needing anyone to hold it up for me. And yet… one look from him, and I start to wonder.. What if I’ve finally met the man who speaks my body language as fluently as I do?