Dance for Me

by J.C. Valentine

  “I think if this person has to think so hard about their relationship status, then maybe it’s not worth the trouble,” Annie finally says. “Relationships are supposed to make you feel good. Whether it’s love or purely sex, there shouldn’t be any question about who feels what for whom or what’s going to happen next, and there definitely shouldn’t be any anxiety or fear about talking to the other person about their feelings.”

  Again, I raise a pointed brow. Apparently, Annie is good at doling out advice, but not taking it. “So you’re saying that this person should walk away?”

  “No, I’m saying that if you feel something for this man, tell him. Men are notoriously aloof. Unless you tell them straight up how you’re feeling, most of them won’t get it.”

  Our gazes meet and an understanding passes between us. She knows we’re talking about me, and I know that she will have questions for me later. When that happens, I plan to use her advice against her, and she knows that, too.

  “I need to get moving. I have class today.” With practiced ease, I stand and walk to the door. Annie follows and leans against the jamb as I step into the hall.

  “So who is this mystery man?”

  I feel a smile inch across my face at the nickname I had used for Ransom before I learned his real name. “I’m afraid I have to plead the fifth.”

  Her brows arch into her hairline. “Is he a secret agent? FBI? CIA? ”

  “If only he were so cool,” I chuckle as I begin walking away.

  “For what it’s worth,” she says, sticking her head out the door. “I hope it works out for you two. Just remember what I said—talk to him. Tell him how you feel. If it’s meant to be, it will be.”

  “You sound like a Disney movie.”

  “I am a princess.” She smiles and waves before ducking back into her apartment.

  As I walk to my car, her words repeat in my head. She has a point. I need to tell Ransom what’s going on in my head. If knowing that I am developing deeper feelings for him scares him away, then I’m better off without him.

  I really hope he chooses to stick around, though. There’s still so much about Ransom Scott that I aim to explore.

  ***

  Ransom doesn’t ask why I was absent yesterday, and as predicted, he doesn’t bring up the club or the hotel. The mask he wears is impossible to read. With his dark hair combed back from his forehead and dressed in another pair of khakis and sweater-vest, he’s just an unassuming professor—a real nice guy. If I hadn’t been there to experience it for myself, I would never guess that little more than thirty-two hours ago we’d had some of the wildest, kinkiest sex I’ve ever had.

  The way he tied me to the bed frame and tore my body asunder makes me shiver just thinking about it. I have a difficult time putting the two images of this man together. He’s a prime example of how different people can be in the light of day.

  Today, the weather is so nice, Ransom has us working outside. We’re gathered on the lawn outside the Art building and he’s discussing art history, which is as interesting as it is boring. I think he feels the same way. Twenty minutes ago, he got animated over the Impressionist Movement, and now he’s discussing Modernism. He sounds like he’s just repeating the words by rote. It’s funny what you can pick up about a person just by observing.

  “What I want you to take away from today is that art is everywhere and in countless forms. It’s different for everyone,” he says as he begins to wrap up his lecture. “When you and I look out over this campus, we see different things. For instance, I see baroque influenced by Roman and Greek design. Maybe you see a series of lines and angles or Victorian landscapes. Think about this as you put together your final exam. How do you plan to use your environment to influence others’ visions?”

  My mind scrambles. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I am ready to skedaddle. I have a ton of homework ahead of me, and I still have no clue what I’m going to do for my final assignment for this class. He dismisses us and I hurry to finish my notes, and then tuck my books into the crook of my elbow. As I turn to leave, I hear Ransom’s throaty timber call me back.

  Waiting for the rest of the students to clear out, I take my time approaching him. “I hope this isn’t becoming a habit,” I say in false warning to help ease the tension I feel inside. “People might start talking.”

  The corner of Ransom’s mouth quirks up. “You weren’t in class yesterday.”

  “I was taking care of a sick friend. Should I have brought a note?”

  His smile grows deeper with my sarcasm. “Does this have anything to do with Miss Guerra’s absence?”

  I nod.

  His eyes hold mine for a moment longer than is comfortable. His voice is quiet and filled with concern when he says, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and that, uh…” He clears his throat, and the sudden nervous energy he gives off has me curious. “The kiss. I wanted to make sure it didn’t… scare you.”

  I study him for a moment, the tightness around his eyes and the firm line of his lips. I remember that kiss fondly. How gentle he was, how sweet it felt. But it makes no sense to ask me this, considering all we did to one another after that. Unless he’s still worried about how this will affect our personal and professional lives.

  I consider this. “No,” I whisper, my voice growing deeper as the memories of that kiss plays through my mind on repeat. “Are you?”

  His gaze glued to my mouth, he shakes his head slowly. “At first. I have a lot to lose, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it for a second. Your mouth…”

  He trails off, and when I glance down, I see the evidence of how much that memory affects him. His words are like the first move on a chess board, and it gives me the confidence to make the second move.

  Maintaining a careful and respectful distance, I take a step closer, lowering my voice so no one else can hear. “If I thought I could get away with it, I’d drop to my knees right now and show you exactly what this mouth can do, Mr. Scott.”

  He sucks air in sharply through his teeth and draws back. The flames of desire in his eyes blazes back at me. In a single, hard blink, he banks it. Shaking his head, Ransom takes a step back. “You should go now, Miss Hart, before something bad happens.”

  I smirk because I knew he’d be the one to draw the line. I wonder if he realizes how transparent he is. Carefully Controlled Mr. Scott by day is nothing like Uninhibited Mr. Scott by night. “Afraid someone will catch us?”

  His chest is pressed against mine in an instant, heat rolling off him in waves. With his lips against my ear, he growls, “The only thing I’m afraid of is that I’ll lose control and shove my cock so far down your throat, you’ll choke on it.”

  Holy shit. The smile falls from my face at the mental image, replaced with a near-crippling desire to drop before him and taste his hard flesh between my lips. As it turns out, it’s me who draws the line.

  “I should go,” I say thickly, because someone has to be the voice of reason, before we both end up in trouble.

  He watches me as I back away with a mocking smile. “Yes, you certainly should.”

  ELEVEN

  I’ve managed to stay away for a solid week. Having a class with Ransom makes this a nearly impossible feat—like reaching the summit of Mount Everest without a guide and lacking any survival skills.

  To keep myself busy, and my mind off anything having to do with him, I throw myself into my studies. On the days I have to work, I use dancing to distract myself, which is also harder than hell, because every few minutes I find myself searching the corners for a pair of familiar dark eyes.

  Thankfully, Ransom keeps his distance, too. I don’t know if he was trying to scare me off, but it works—kind of. Try as I might, I can’t stop thinking about him, about the kiss, the sex. Everything. He completely dominates my every thought. There’s no escape.

  It’s driving me crazy, wanting to touch him, but forcing myself to stay away. It’s better for both of us this way. At least, t
hat’s what I keep telling myself. I just wish I didn’t have to see his face every day.

  That’s why I’ve ditched yoga for running. I’ve found that it helps me clear my head far better than the downward facing dog. For just a little while, I can get lost in the steady rhythm of my feet slapping the pavement and the whirring of my breaths in my ears.

  I don’t have a lot of stamina, but I can get a good mile in before I have to take a break. This morning, I hit the streets early while it’s still cool enough out to break a comfortable sweat. The path I take circles the campus. I pass a couple runners while I’m out, but it’s still pretty early, which means I have the trail mostly to myself.

  I am coming up on the half-mile marker when someone falls into step beside me. Focused on the music between my ears and the sidewalk stretched out ahead, the interruption startles me and I misstep, nearly falling on my face.

  “Whoa, careful there, grace.”

  Ripping the bud from my ear, I glare up at Ransom. “You scared the hell out of me!”

  Grinning in amusement, he holds his hands up in front of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I was just out for a run when I saw you. I didn’t know you ran.”

  “I just started,” I grumble.

  His gaze drifts down my body, and I can’t help feeling a little self-conscious. I don’t have any makeup on, I’m sweaty, and I probably stink. “Yeah? How far do you go?”

  “Up to the dorms. About a mile or so.”

  He looks ahead thoughtfully. “You could do more,” he decides.

  I shake my head in annoyance. “No, I can’t. I just started. I need time to build up stamina.”

  “You were going pretty hard. It took me a minute to catch up with you. If you slowed down a bit, you’d be able to hold out longer. Plus, it’s less wear and tear on your knees.”

  I mull over this as I catch my breath. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind. I should get back to it though before my heart rate gets too low.”

  “Mind if I run with you?”

  I do, actually, but it’s hard to deny him when he’s looking at me like that, as if he’s hoping I’ll say yes, but worried I’ll say no. I want to turn him down. The voice in my head is telling me if I don’t walk away now, this last week will have been for nothing, but I find myself inclining my head and saying, “If you think you can keep up with me.”

  His smirk is paralyzing. “I’ll do my best.”

  We fall into a comfortable silence as we run side by side. The pace that Ransom sets is slower than my usual, but I find it’s easier to breathe when my heart isn’t slamming against my ribcage, and by the end of our run, we’ve covered a good two and a half miles, a whole one and a half more than my usual.

  I’m out of breath when we stop at the end of campus, and my mouth is drier than the desert on a sunny afternoon, but I feel great. I feel healthy and my head is clear. I don’t know if that’s because the object of my obsession is standing beside me, or if it’s because I’m too tired to think, but it’s refreshing nonetheless.

  I’m surprised to realize that running with Ransom wasn’t such a challenge after all. It was actually kind of fun. Even though we didn’t talk about anything, it was nice to have someone else to share it with. I’m not ready to let that feeling go just yet. There’s a little coffee shop at the end of the block and I am about to ask him if he wants to grab a cup with me, when Ransom speaks up.

  “I need to get back and grab a shower. It was nice running into you. We should do it again sometime.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. Maybe tomorrow morning…if you’re out, because I will be. Running, that is.” I stumble over my words, feeling like a complete idiot because of how pathetic I sound.

  The corners of his mouth tilt up. He steps into me, his hand covering my clammy arm, and kisses my cheek. “Sure thing, Hart. Same time and place.” As soon as I nod in agreement, he turns and heads off in the opposite direction, leaving me standing in the middle of the sidewalk wearing a ridiculous grin that I can’t seem to wipe off my face.

  ***

  Annie is waiting for me when I get to class, which means I am back to sitting front and center. Having gotten used to being in the back of the room, the change is difficult to get used to. I feel exposed, vulnerable.

  And Ransom’s concerted effort to avoid me makes me feel all the more conspicuous because instead of being invisible, I can feel how aware he is of me. Maybe the problem is that I am focusing too hard on him, but I can’t help it. Does the man have to be so damn irresistible?

  This pattern continues into the following week. By now, it’s becoming old hat. He’s also stopped coming to the club, which is both a relief and a disappointment. I’m never certain how to read him, but the distance we’ve placed between us seems to finally be sticking. I have to admit, it’s getting easier to be around him. Each day that passes without incident is a little less torturous than the last. Now, I’d venture to say we’re almost comfortable in each other’s presence. Ransom’s even taken to speaking directly to me, and I’m learning to get a handle on the furious blush that constantly wants to seep into my face every time he does.

  It’s Friday and we’ve just finished discussing religion in art, when Annie raises her hand.

  Ransom points to her. “I have a question about my final assignment.”

  He nods as he closes his book and gathers his papers. “Meet me at my desk after class.”

  Great. Right now, I’d like more than anything to punch Annie a good one, because I know she will expect me to stay after with her, and that is exactly the kind of attention I am trying to avoid. We’re just beginning to learn to work within the same space, so the last thing Ransom and I need is more one-on-one time.

  As the class files out moments later, I try my luck and give Annie a quick pat on the shoulder and issue an even quicker, “See you later.” But she grabs my elbow before I can get far, and pulls me back.

  “Wait for me. I’ll just be a minute.”

  Grumbling, I stand aside, eying the open door. My mind cycles through possible escape plans, but even having taken up running and pushing three miles a day won’t be enough to outrun the devil, which is exactly what Annie will turn into if I bolt. The girl is terrifying when she’s angry.

  “I was thinking about this,” Annie says as she hands something over to Ransom. From where I stand, I can’t see what it is that she shows him, but whatever it is, he seems interested.

  “This is good. It’s risky, definitely controversial, but if you’re up to the challenge, then I say go for it.”

  My interest is piqued. Even though several feet still separate us, I lean closer. I still can’t see a damn thing, but I do catch the look on Annie’s face. It’s one of doubt, which is at total odds with Ransom’s expression.

  “Okay, thanks, Professor Scott.” We walk out together. Annie remains tight-lipped all the way out the doors, until the anticipation becomes too much and I decide to pull answers out of her.

  “Okay, talk. What was that about back there?”

  She shrugs. “Nothing. Just an idea I was tossing around for the final project. I don’t know if I’m going to do it, though. Like Professor Scott said, it’s kind of risky.”

  “How risky?” Annie isn’t the kind of person I would describe as a risk taker. In fact, she’s ultraconservative. The only risk I’ve ever witnessed her take is mixing darks with lights.

  Instead of answering with words, she pulls a scrap of paper from inside the folder she carries between a stack of books and hands it over. It has the name of the school stamped at the top and I realize that it is an article that has been torn from the monthly newsletter that circulates campus.

  As I read it over, my eyes grow wide. Shock fills my voice and I screech to a halt, turning on Annie, who’s chewing nervously on her bottom lip. “You’re going to pose nude?”

  Several people on the quad glance at us, but continue walking. Annie clutches her books to her chest, growing pale. “I don’t k
now. The more I think about it, the more I think it’s a stupid idea. I mean, I still wear a shirt when I have sex, and I’ve been with Jason for years.”

  I can see where that could be a problem. I don’t want to discourage my friend from taking chances, but this is the kind that I know she will regret. Friends don’t let friends make bad choices. “Sweetie, this is so not you.”

  “I know.” She sighs, defeated. “I just thought it could be an easy A. Take my clothes off for an hour, let some people draw me, and then go.”

  “Trust me,” I say as we resume walking. “Taking your clothes off for strangers isn’t as easy as it might sound. If you can’t do it for your boyfriend, then you definitely aren’t ready to do it for anyone else.”

  She nods thoughtfully, and I know she’s hearing me. But I also know that even if I hadn’t said anything, she would have reached the same conclusion. Annie is smart that way. If she isn’t comfortable with something, then she steers clear of it. Which is why it’s so damn hard for me to understand why she chose the boyfriend she did.

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do for your project?” she asks me.

  “Nope. Then again,” I say, bumping her shoulder with mine, “maybe I’ll go pose nude in your stead.”

  “Maybe you should,” she says, shocking me. “You’ve got the body for it, and I know you’re not shy.”

  “I feel like I should be offended,” I tease.

  “No, not at all. You’re just a heck of a lot more confident than I am. You should give it some serious consideration. And you never know, maybe that mystery man of yours will get jealous of all those people seeing what belongs to him, and drag you out of there by your hair like a total caveman.”

  “Oh, yes, because I’ve always wanted my very own caveman. Those bulbous foreheads and ape-ish good looks make me weak in the knees.”