Eyes on Me

by Rachel Harris

  The five women were in their costumes, white button-down shirts, black shorts with fishnet stockings, and wide-brim hats slung low. As for the dance itself, I was mesmerized. Mrs. Viktória had outdone herself. While the moves were tasteful, they were also playfully sensual.

  Despite being the bane of my existence, Cameron was a great dancer. She moved her body with style and grace, and she wasn’t afraid to give herself over to the music, interpreting the seductive beats with the sway of her hips.

  Part of me was envious; I’d love to look that confident. To feel that confident. But the truth was I’d come a long way in six weeks. In this tale, the gangly giraffe hadn’t exactly turned into a swan, but I was a heck of a lot closer than I’d ever been in my life. I’d also somehow gotten the guy, and he liked me, lanky legs and all.

  Across the room, the hero of the story, and one of the biggest reasons for my transformation, looked up from his textbook. When his eyes locked with mine, he smiled.

  “Okay, ladies,” Mrs. Viktória called, stealing my attention from her son. “That was beautiful. The air-conditioning will need to be turned down after that sexy performance!” She shimmied her shoulders, and the women in the routine laughed. “Now, I must start my next lesson, but please stay if you want to work on the variation we added to the middle. If not, I’ll see you Saturday!”

  With a happy cheer, the group broke apart, and most headed for the door. Only two dancers chose to stay, and not surprisingly, Cameron was one of them.

  I had my doubts it was the call of samba that had her lingering—and not the chance to watch me and Stone—but either way, I mentally erased her half of the room. I didn’t have the time or energy to worry about her motives. This was the final rehearsal before our very important, very public performance. I couldn’t afford distractions.

  As Mrs. Viktória strode toward the stereo system, Stone stood from the bistro table and closed his textbook. I motioned for Dad to take a seat, then sauntered toward my man.

  “Get any studying in?” I asked with a sympathetic smile. Stone was spending his nights at the studio this week, coming in as soon as practice ended and staying until after closing, helping his mom and sister with anything that popped up. The stress was high leading up to the showcase, and the entire family was feeling it.

  “Some,” he replied with a tired smile. Dark smudges lined his eyes, and I reached up to touch them gently. Stone glanced at my dad, then took my hand. “How about you? Did you study for anatomy?”

  “That test won’t know what hit it,” I replied, injecting my voice with false confidence. Science didn’t come as easily to me as the other subjects, but I was as prepared as I’d ever be. Besides, he didn’t need to add my stress to his already-toppling plate.

  The bell-like tinkle of a music box rolled through the speakers, and Mrs. Viktória clapped. “My darlings!”

  After I slipped off my glasses, Stone led me to the floor, and I snuck a quick glance at Dad, half expecting to find him on his phone. His hands were folded on the tabletop, his eyes focused and interested.

  “You already know the dance. Tonight, I don’t want you worried about steps. Instead, I want you to feel. Listen to the words of the song, and then become the characters. Let them live through you. Let them breathe. Okay?”

  A flutter of nerves tightened my stomach as I nodded. Thus far, the totality of my acting experience amounted to me kicking my shoe across the room during the fourth-grade play and narrowly escaping knocking out the principal. Fortunately, my dance shoes had straps.

  Even so, I glanced down to make sure they were buckled.

  “This song is about the start of a new relationship,” she instructed, circling us as the music continued. “The feelings you get when you first meet. The excitement. As the couple starts to dance, the man says it is like she is made just for him. They are meant to be.”

  Stone squeezed my hand, and my stomach fluttered for an entirely new reason.

  At its heart, our song was about a man looking for love. While the initial spark came from physical attraction, it developed into something deeper. Something wonderfully unexpected. That didn’t require acting.

  We listened to the song several times, slowly bringing the couple to life. During each run-through, I became more and more like the girl—or she became more like me. Relaxing into the movement, adding more of a sway to my hips. It was freeing, taking on a new persona. It gave me that final push to let go and fully immerse myself in the choreography.

  It didn’t matter if I didn’t feel confident in the movement; the girl in the song did. With her help, I nailed the sequence of fast, intense turns toward the end, and was even only slightly shaky on the dip.

  Even better, I didn’t kick Stone in the head.

  The music drifted to a close, and a loud whoop rent the air. I laughed at Angéla as Stone carefully helped me back to my feet, and she, Mrs. Viktória, and Marcus, along with the other woman from the burlesque routine, all clapped and cheered. Even Dad pushed to his feet, wearing a huge, proud smile I felt in my chest.

  Warmth radiated throughout my body, even as the air kicked on and goose bumps dotted my skin. The entire room felt lifted somehow. Like we were all in this together, and an unmistakable thread of hope and joy knitted us as one.

  The only person not smiling, in fact, was Cameron.

  Stone yanked me into his chest, breathing hard against my ear. “God, you’re amazing.”

  “No, you are,” I whispered fiercely, my heart racing as I looked over his shoulder at the mirror. A new message was scrawled in black marker across the top: When you are in love, your heart dances to bachata.

  For the first time, Mrs. Viktória was wrong. It should’ve said salsa.

  “Wonderful! Wow, wow, wow. My heart is overflowing!” My shoulders shook at the genuine, effervescent praise only Mrs. Viktória could pull off. “I cannot tell you how proud I am!”

  Stone squeezed me one last time, then stepped away, and I bit my lip as I looked at his mother. “The ending was still a little shaky,” I admitted, feeling the need to point out the obvious.

  “Let it go, love.” Mrs. Viktória walked up to me, her face soft with affection. “What have I told you? Forget the moves that already happened. Stop fretting the ones to come. Just dance, yes?”

  I nodded, and she squeezed my shoulder affectionately. Then a strange gleam hit her green eyes and she turned to face the other side of the studio. The older blonde was already strolling to the leather sofa where she’d left her purse, apparently calling it a night, which left only one other student remaining. A certain brunette who now stood with her arms crossed and mouth pinched in a sour expression.

  “Cameron,” Mrs. Viktória called in a rather loud voice, “are you struggling with the changes to the choreography?”

  Lips previously smashed together parted in surprise. “No?” The response came out like a question, and I bit back a smile as she bristled, shaking her thick brown hair over her shoulders. “I was just finishing up.”

  “Oh, good.” Mrs. Viktória smiled warmly. “Then I will see you Saturday.”

  Cameron had effectively been dismissed.

  She glanced at the ground, then raised her eyes and focused on Stone. “Think you can walk me out? I’d really like to talk to you.”

  “Nah,” he said, grabbing a water from the table and uncapping it. “I think we’ve said all there is to say by now, don’t you?”

  He took a long gulp from the bottle, disregarding her as easily as his mom had, and Cameron’s face tightened before her gaze shifted to me.

  Eyes hard, she tilted her chin downward, clearly finding me lacking. But with no reason left to stay, she grabbed her duffel bag and shuffled out the door.

  Mrs. Viktória turned and gave me a wink.

  Angéla bounded across the floor. “Can we show her now?”

  All thoughts of Cameron and the promise of retaliation I’d seen in her eyes flitted away at the pure excitement radiating from my f
riend’s entire body. “Show me what?” I asked.

  “We scoured through Ma’s costume collection and found a few that would be perfect for you!” she exclaimed with a happy bounce. “They should fit, even with the height difference, and they’re in the office now. I know you planned on wearing street clothes, but trust me, this’ll be so much better.”

  She started to tug me away, and I dragged my feet, my hand flying to my chest. “Wait…are you serious?”

  My wide eyes landed on Stone, and the quick flash of dimples told me he’d been in on it.

  This was a big deal. For them and for me. Those dance costumes were Mrs. Viktória’s pride and joy; she’d saved every single one, from every single performance her entire life. Angéla had once joked she loved the costumes more than her own children, and while anyone who knew the Torres family knew it wasn’t true, it did show the care she put into them.

  My thoughts drifted back to the park, when we were lying in the grass looking at clouds. I’d told Stone that more than anything, I wished Mom could watch our performance. After kissing my forehead, he’d told me she would be. Those words, spoken by an incredible guy in such a romantic, woodland setting, had made me feel like a fairy-tale princess.

  If that were the case, then Mrs. Viktória was my Fairy Godmother.

  Angéla tugged my hands again, dragging me to the front of the studio, and this time I went willingly. Mrs. Viktória led the way, pushing open the office door, but at the threshold, I glanced back, hoping to catch Stone’s eyes again.

  Unfortunately, he was preoccupied. He and Dad stood side by side on the gleaming hardwood, a wary look on Stone’s face as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets. My smile dimmed. The two men in my life were at odds, but I hoped soon Dad would realize how amazing Stone was and how happy he made me. Then he’d drop the Protective Dad schtick, and everything would be perfect.

  “Come on,” Angéla scolded impatiently. With an indulgent grin, I let her tug me through the door into a world of pretty costumes.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Stone

  The moment the office door closed, Mr. Bailey lifted his chin toward the parking lot. “Let’s take a walk.”

  I nodded tightly and blew out a breath, falling in step behind him.

  This conversation had been a long time coming. Hell, it should’ve happened the night we made the agreement. He had no idea what kind of guy I was, outside of being the studio owner’s son and someone who’d once made Lily smile. It made sense he’d question my motives now that I was dating his daughter. Especially considering how we started.

  Night had descended when we pushed open the main door to Ilusiòn. The boutique shops were closed for the day, leaving only the lights outside the Mexican and Italian restaurants flanking the strip and the bakery a few stores down illuminated.

  I followed Mr. Bailey around the corner, into a dim alcove that led to additional parking. As loose dirt crunched under my dance shoes, I realized this would make an excellent set-up for a thriller. Disapproving dad takes daughter’s boyfriend out back into a dark alley. The script practically wrote itself.

  …And Angéla’s movie obsession had officially messed with my head.

  Mr. Bailey stopped beside a large bench, but he didn’t sit. Not wanting to appear weak, I didn’t, either. The man already had a couple inches on me, and he handled negotiations for a living. Plus, he had the power to keep me away from Lily. I couldn’t look like a pushover.

  “Mr. Torres, I won’t insult your intelligence by beating around the bush,” he said, straight to the point. “When I hired you to dance with my daughter, I didn’t mean for you to pretend to date her. It’s clear to me that Lily is starting to care for you, and I think it’s best for everyone if you cut ties after this weekend.” His blue eyes sharpened on me. “You’re confusing her.”

  My back teeth clicked. It was no secret he wasn’t happy we were together, but this was ridiculous. I wasn’t sure if it was me he thought so little of, or his daughter, but either way, it was an insult.

  “Sir,” I said carefully, trying not to show my anger. “I care about Lily, too. I’m not trying to confuse her. I just want to be with her.”

  Mr. Bailey stepped back, studying me from under thick eyebrows. “So you’re not trying to mess with her head?” he asked point-blank, and I inhaled a sharp breath, gritting my teeth.

  “No, sir. I don’t play games. I don’t like it when they’re pulled on me, and I refuse to pull them on anyone else.” I wanted to add that if he knew Lily at all, he’d realize she was a firecracker and smart as hell. I doubted anyone could get anything over on her. But, since I wanted the man to like me, I refrained.

  “My relationship with Lily has nothing to do with our agreement or your money,” I told him, wishing I could hand the damn stack over now and be done with it. “It might’ve started out that way, but six weeks is a long time, and like I said, I care about her. A lot.”

  My fingers flexed and fisted at my sides. As annoyed as I was for being questioned, I couldn’t fault him for looking out for her. What he had to understand, though, was I wasn’t going anywhere. I raised my chin and looked him in the eye. Mr. Bailey met my gaze, his chin lowered to look down on me, but after a few beats, he nodded curtly.

  “I take it you haven’t told her about our agreement?”

  Despite my resolve to appear confident, I flinched.

  “No,” I admitted, the defensive anger leaving me in a rush. I scrubbed a weary hand over my face, then wrapped it around the base of my neck. “Even though I told you I wouldn’t, I’ve wanted to. Tons of times.” I glanced at him. “But I’m afraid she won’t understand.”

  I almost told him my plan to confess this weekend but decided to keep that in my back pocket. The truth was, we were on the same side. We both wanted her happy. But if it was a choice between who’d come clean first—him or me—it was going to be me. I didn’t want him getting any ideas of beating me to the punch.

  With a heavy sigh, Mr. Bailey sat on the bench. Leaning forward, he set his elbows on his thighs and stared at the ground. The imposing statue of a man suddenly had the weight of the world square on his shoulders, and his face, usually stoic, was lined with worry.

  I hesitated, then took a seat on the other end. As his chest rose and fell in a breath, I tapped my foot, feeling restless. I wanted to get back inside to Lily, but it felt wrong to leave. I still needed his approval. And the man looked wrecked.

  “I’m afraid, too,” he finally said, his quiet admission shocking my foot still. “I’ve screwed up so much with her. If her mother were here, she’d knock me over the head. I thought I was doing the right thing, but now…” He drifted off and sighed. “I couldn’t handle it if my little girl got her heart broken because of a mistake I made.”

  Mr. Bailey raised his head, and his gaze pierced mine in the dark. “I’ll back off and let Lily decide, but I’ll be watching. I might be the world’s worst dad at showing it, but I love that girl, and I’m awake and here now. I’ll do whatever I can to keep her safe.”

  I nodded in understanding and swallowed down a lump of emotion. Lily was getting her dad back. Hell, I’d take a hundred suspicious looks if that was the result.

  “We’ll keep our agreement between us,” he told me with a firm nod, pushing to his feet. Bonding time was over. I stood as well, and we walked side by side back to the studio with two words circling my brain—for now.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Lily

  Sydney whipped the car into her designated spot and shut off the engine, taking the blaring music with it. Blinking, I shook my head and wiggled my finger in my ear, adjusting to the sudden quiet. It was different, riding with my best friend rather than my boyfriend to school. For one thing, Sydney hadn’t arrived at my door with Starbucks. For another, she’d insisted on playing the radio at ear-piercing decibels. She claimed it woke her up better than coffee.

  While I adamantly disagreed, I had to admit—I wasn’t t
ired anymore.

  “Thanks again for the ride,” I told her, grabbing my bag from my feet. “Stone said it was only today he needed to be here early. The game plan should be set now, so he can bring me tomorrow.”

  If for some reason he couldn’t, I was tempted to take the bus. I loved Sydney to death, but I loved my sense of hearing, too.

  “No problem,” she said, throwing her keys into her purse and popping open the door. “What are besties for?”

  The words hit me in the heart, and I glanced over with a grateful smile.

  Last night had been rough. Nightmares had plagued me, and I’d woken up with a lingering sense of unease. The mounting stress was getting to me. Worrying about the showcase, waiting to hear back about Debbie, having to confess the truth to Dad. Thank God he’d still been in bed when I snuck out this morning. While he didn’t like it, it made sense for Stone to bring me to school, but if he’d seen Sydney in our driveway, he would’ve asked questions. After my long night, that might’ve tipped me over the edge.

  With a sigh, I climbed out and tugged my schoolbag over my shoulders. I bumped the door with my hip, and when I looked up, Angéla was walking to meet us, her sweet face scrunched and her phone clutched in her hands.

  Sydney joined me on the passenger side, and we exchanged a glance.

  Usually, Angéla bounced through life, but today her steps were slow and awkward. I narrowed my eyes as she stopped a few feet away, then shifted her weight. “Are you okay?”

  She winced. “Have either of you checked your phones this morning?”

  “No,” I replied, reaching in my pocket. Beside me, Sydney did the same. I held mine out, my thumbs unlocking the screen. “I’m guessing you mean like social media or something? What’s going on?”

  Admittedly, I was kind of a novice at the whole scene. Not having a ton of friends meant I didn’t follow a lot of people, and I’d never gotten in the habit of posting random tidbits of my life online. Who’d have cared what I ate for breakfast, or what my weekend plans were? Sydney knew my schedule better than I did.