‘Do you miss it?’
‘What?’ she asked, turning back to him. ‘Dancing?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Sometimes.’ She shrugged. ‘But then sometimes I don’t.’
Typical Elise answer: non-committal...closed off. He sighed and nodded, turning back to the stage.
‘I can’t miss something that was never going anywhere.’ She said it so quietly that he might easily have missed it.
‘What do you mean?’
She opened her mouth to speak but the choreographer turned around and shushed them. Her face closed off, the walls shooting up around her as the moment disintegrated before his eyes. She smiled brightly at him and pointed to the stage, turning so that he could only see her perfect, pert-nosed profile.
* * *
The combination of sitting so close to Col and seeing her best friend dance with an abandon she herself could never achieve was doing funny things to her insides. Her heart fluttered unsteadily, its uneven rhythm making her restless. Elise kept her hands braced on her knees to keep from reaching out to touch him, training her eyes firmly on the scene in front of them.
Jasmine moved with a passion and emotion that stirred a small inkling of jealousy deep within her chest. How different her life might’ve been if she could let her barriers down: perhaps her career wouldn’t have stalled; perhaps she could have done more to help her mother; perhaps Col might have stayed. An uncomfortable lump filled the pit of her stomach and she pressed a hand against it to quell the rocking sensation.
The rehearsal concluded without another word passing between Col and Elise. He sat beside her, tense as she was, hands knotted in his lap and brows furrowed. If there was ever a moment that they could have reconciled the past, yesterday had been it. He’d tried to tell her how he felt, tried to tell her exactly what she’d wanted to hear...but she hadn’t listened. She’d pushed him away because it was the only way to deal with the emotions coursing through her.
The dancers left the stage, gathering their things and exiting the old theatre in dribs and drabs.
‘I’ve cleared it with the dance company so we can have a look around,’ Elise said, pushing up from her seat.
Col folded his arms across his chest, his shadow dwarfing her. ‘Are you going to try to make me practise again?’
‘Try? There is no try. I’m in charge of this partnership, remember.’
‘You’d like to think that.’ He let out a sharp laugh, taunting her, challenging her. ‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘Come on, less arguing, more exploring.’ She darted up the stairs at the side of the stage and stood in the middle, looking out into the audience.
Most of the dancers had cleared out. Only Jasmine hovered in the front row pretending to check through her exercise bag, but Elise knew she was keeping an eye on her. The stage was smooth beneath her sneakers, the wooden surface worn down under many feet over many years. A few steps and then she’d stop. Okay, maybe a pirouette or two.
Col had followed her up onto the stage and he stood at the edge, thick arms folded across his broad chest. She kept her eyes on him as she danced, a strange sensation fizzing inside her. An arabesque turned into a fondu followed by a few quick steps; she turned and floated her arms above her head. She felt the hem of her silky top rise up; cool air brushed the exposed sliver of belly.
Heat coursed through her. She’d never ever felt like this when dancing before. Perhaps this was the feeling her teachers had tried to elicit from her when they’d chanted at her over and over: show me the passion, show me what you feel, just show...something. She stopped, suddenly noticing the way Col was looking at her, hungry and tortured and barely restrained.
‘You’ve still got the moves,’ he said, stalking up to her in his usual purposeful stride. ‘Not that I had any doubt you’d ever lose them.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ She gave a little shimmy and laughed, drunk on the feeling of his appreciative gaze on her. Her heart kicked up a notch, molten heat seeping down to her stomach.
‘Why did you stop dancing anyway? You were pretty good from memory.’
Pretty good was an understatement. She’d trained since she was old enough to stand up on her own and she’d landed herself a role in the Australian Ballet’s corps de ballet. She was more than ‘pretty good’. Unfortunately the technique that she studied with obsession had also been her downfall.
‘I stalled.’ She looked away, leaving the memory hanging thick in the air.
‘Stalled?’
‘My dancing was too...safe.’ Just like the rest of my life.
The sound of a throat clearing broke the spell, and their heads snapped to the front of the stage. Jasmine picked up her bag and looked pointedly at Elise. ‘Are you coming?’
She hesitated. ‘I’m sure Col can give me a lift.’
‘I’ll make sure she gets home safe,’ he replied, the deep timbre of his voice sending a shiver down her spine.
‘Are you sure?’ Jasmine narrowed her eyes at Elise as if trying to talk to her telepathically. Elise had a good idea of what she might be saying: wrong way, turn back before it’s too late.
‘I’m sure.’
She could feel the space between her and Col, every millimetre crackling and sparking with energy. ‘Let’s have a look out the back.’
They walked through the wings and entered the small backstage area, which was cluttered with props and costumes. A long velvet cloak hung from a hook; the white fur trimming the hood had gone grey with age. A light film of dust coated the furniture. It looked as though it could have been a room in a funfair’s haunted house.
‘Why are we really here, Elise?’ Col stood close behind her; his frame seemed even bigger in the cramped space.
The scent of his cinnamon aftershave mingled with the charming, old-theatre smell of talcum powder and faded dreams. His breath came hot against her neck. He didn’t touch her and yet she could feel his intentions as heavily as if he’d laid both hands on her. He wanted her, like that one night all those years ago; she felt his desire so keenly because it matched her own.
She swallowed, willing her voice to hold steady. ‘I’m helping you prepare for your keynote speech.’
‘Bullshit.’ Hot breath, so close...so very close.
The backstage area was dimly lit, bright light only filtering in from the stage itself. Golden beams were filled with dancing dust motes, the hazy light making the dark spaces seem even more blackened and mysterious.
‘If you don’t want my help then we should leave.’ She turned; her nose met with the hard wall of his chest. ‘Now.’
‘I want you to tell me why you called me here.’
‘I told you already.’ A lump lodged in her throat. Was she so transparent? Could he see right through her?
‘You gave me the reason you use to lie to yourself.’
‘I’m not lying.’ She stepped back, desperate for space between them and yet hating it at the same time.
‘Are you being totally honest?’
She wanted to say yes, but then she’d be lying, wouldn’t she? Why couldn’t she tell him how she felt, how much his leaving had hurt her, how much she wanted with all her heart to forgive him and hold him and never let him go? But the words stuck in her throat, threatening to choke her. She was a failure at relationships; she was a failure at love and emotion and honesty.
‘Can I plead the fifth?’
‘Not in Australia.’ He sighed, rubbing a hand down his jaw.
The shadows in the backstage area made his stubble seem heavier, made the angle of his jaw seem sharper, the slash of his cheekbones harsher. Only the dazzling white of his teeth and the faded blue of his eyes broke the darkness.
‘What do you want from me, Col?’ She threw her hands up in the air, more frustrated by her
own lack of control than by his probing questions.
‘How about a little honesty?’ He cocked his head, stepping closer again so that he was almost upon her. ‘I want to know what’s going on inside that pretty head of yours.’
She took another step back. ‘I can’t give you that.’
‘You can’t tell me what you’re thinking?’ He advanced again, forcing her back until she bumped into a pile of crates.
He flattened his palm against the crate and she had the irresistible urge to turn her face and kiss the smooth, perfect skin on the inside of his wrist. She wanted to run her tongue along the vein that created a subtle ridge up his arm; she wanted to nip at the tender flesh on the inside of his elbow. Ugh, she was like a hormonal, sex-starved teenager!
‘No.’ Her voice shook and she hated herself for it.
His pupils flared until she felt as if she were looking into two bottomless pits. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I can’t tell you about things I shouldn’t be thinking.’
He stood in front of her, unblinking and frozen. Memories struck with a force that almost pulled her feet out from under her. I can’t tell you about things I shouldn’t be thinking... She’d said those exact words to him five years ago, the night before he left, the night before everything fell apart. He’d come to her; he’d asked her what their night together meant.
She’d been young, inexperienced, emotionally underdeveloped. She’d shrugged her shoulders and made light of them sleeping together, assuming that he was looking for an out. When she’d laughed his questions off, the hurt in his eyes had been a stake through her heart. Yet here she was again, same words, still pushing him away. She wanted to blame him for leaving, but deep down she knew that half the blame rested on her shoulders.
‘Why shouldn’t you be thinking about these things?’
‘Because...’ She drew a breath. ‘Because, we’re like family. We should have left it that way.’
Her brother would have been furious if he’d known about them. He’d made her promise as a teenager that she’d never kiss Col...and she assumed that promise extended to things much more grown up than kissing. Rich had made her swear on their parents’ lives and the very day after she broke that promise her dad died. She’d never told Col that.
Elise closed her eyes, her head swimming with the weight of the past. Adult sensibilities told her that sleeping with Col hadn’t caused her father to die. But the child within said that if she’d kept her promise to Rich then maybe everything would have been...different.
‘You’re right.’ Col stepped back. ‘We shouldn’t have crossed that line. I never wanted to leave you, Ellie. I was young, confused—’
‘Stop it.’ Her breath came in heavy mouthfuls, ragged and painful. ‘I don’t want to talk about this anymore.’
‘Fine.’ His face was a mask of composure, his light eyes cold and still as a frozen lake. ‘I’ll take you home.’
‘Col—’
‘You said you didn’t want to talk anymore, so don’t do it for my benefit.’
Her heart felt as though it were splintering all over again, but as they walked past an old mirror the face that reflected back was totally devoid of feeling. She was doing the right thing; she could never give Col what he needed. Even if she could muster up the guts to try it would only end in tears...and they wouldn’t be hers.
SEVEN
Elise leant back in her chair behind the reception desk of the EJ Ballet School, tilting her face up to the steady stream of cold air blowing from the air conditioner. For the first time in weeks the studio’s waiting area didn’t feel like a greenhouse thanks to the portly man in overalls who’d just left. The first half of Col’s payment had arrived that day and she’d immediately called her maintenance guy.
‘Hey, it’s fixed!’ Jasmine said as she and Missy exited the studio.
They had been practising a routine together, and were due to perform at a fund-raising concert in a few weeks’ time. Both girls were glowing with perspiration as they jostled for the main spot in front of the air conditioner.
‘Thanks for getting this fixed, Ellie. This is officially the best place in Melbourne right now.’ Missy swept back a few stray strands of her vibrant copper hair and sighed happily.
‘So, uh...how were you able to get it fixed?’ Jasmine turned to her, her dark eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Elise could feel the lecture coming on, and after what happened with Col last night she didn’t want to talk about it. So she pretended not to hear as she flipped through a copy of Pointe magazine, holding it high enough up that she blocked out Jasmine’s motherly stare.
A hand came over the top of her magazine and slowly lowered it so that she was looking straight at Jasmine. ‘You accepted his offer, didn’t you?’
‘What’s going on?’ Missy left the comfort of the air-conditioning unit to join them at the reception desk.
‘I did what I had to do,’ Elise said, snatching her magazine back and laying it in her in-tray. ‘I’m saving my business.’
‘By getting mixed up with the guy who bailed on you as soon as things got tough, after your family took him in and cared for him?’ She huffed, crossing her slim arms across her chest. ‘Doesn’t sound like someone who’s very trustworthy to me.’
Jasmine’s distrust of Col wasn’t exactly based on fact, rather an assumption that Elise had never bothered to correct. Her friend had assumed that Col left the country after her father’s death, knowing the truth. In Jasmine’s eyes Col was a deserter.
‘There’s more to it than that.’ Elise shook her head, the blood pounding in her temples. She wasn’t ready to deal with this yet, but she felt a sudden urge to correct Jasmine’s assumptions. ‘There’s more to him than that.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Jasmine rolled her eyes. ‘I’m worried about you, Ellie. You’ve always had a thing for him and he’s...bad news.’
‘Are you talking about Col?’ Missy asked.
Elise nodded. Jasmine and Missy had been regulars at the Johnson family table; the three of them had driven the rest of Elise’s family mad by practising their routines in the lounge room while Wheel of Fortune was on.
‘The boy whose father was a drunk, who hit him.’ Jasmine’s eyes were wide as she reached out and grabbed Elise’s hand. ‘Don’t you remember that he used to turn up at the house and scream at your parents? He would bang on the door until your dad threatened to take him down to the police station. God, could you imagine what would have happened if your parents weren’t both cops?’
‘That was Col’s father, not Col. He’s nothing like that.’
‘I’m not saying he’s the same, but I don’t want you getting mixed up with his family. I want you to be safe.’
Elise sighed. ‘He’s dead, Jas. Col’s father is dead. That’s why he’s in the country.’
Col had never explicitly asked her not to say anything, but she imagined he wanted to keep it quiet. Wasn’t that why he’d changed his name from Colby Hill to Colby Hillam? He wanted to keep his past locked away on the other side of the world. She needed to figure out whether he considered her part of the shameful past or not.
‘Didn’t I encourage you to take a chance on Grant?’ Elise swung her legs down from the front desk and climbed out of her chair, relishing the cold stream of air blowing against her heated cheeks and neck.
‘If my memory serves me correctly you used some good old-fashioned reverse psychology.’ Jasmine raked a hand through her long dark hair, a begrudging smile on her lips.
‘Potato, pot-ah-to. It got the right result, didn’t it?’
‘I say you should go for it,’ said Missy, folding her arms across her chest when she received a glare from Jasmine. ‘What?’
‘I’m trying to get you the right result. I’m worried about you, Ellie.’ Jasmine reached out and t
ouched her shoulder. ‘I don’t want to see you make the same mistake twice.’
‘What if it’s not a mistake this time?’ That was a confusing thought. Why was it so much easier when Col was a whole continent away? ‘Col didn’t know about Dad when he left. He’s not the person you think he is.’
Jasmine raised a perfectly arched brow, her mouth forming a small ‘o’. ‘He didn’t know?’
Elise shook her head. ‘He checked in as soon as he found out. But Rich told him not to come back. He told Col that everything was okay...that we didn’t need him here.’
‘Oh.’ Realisation dawned in Jasmine’s eyes, the defensiveness seeping from her posture. ‘Why didn’t you tell me any of this?’
‘I was angry.’ Elise grabbed her bag and moved towards the door. ‘Now, I don’t want to talk about this any more.’
‘You have to talk about things, Ellie. Didn’t we agree that you wouldn’t shut us out again?’ Missy tugged at a spiral of copper-coloured hair as she implored her with turquoise eyes.
‘I’m not shutting you out, girls.’ Elise put her hands up as if to surrender. ‘I just need to think about this, and it’s a little hard to work through things with good angel and bad angel interrupting my thoughts.’
‘I’m good angel, right?’ Missy asked, elbowing Jasmine in the ribs.
‘No, you’re the bad angel.’ Jasmine pursed her lips, ever the serious mother hen of their little group.
‘I’ll be fine.’ Elise dodged a group of young students filtering in for their class. ‘And I’m not shutting you out. I promise.’
Outside the sun was setting and the air was thick; the summer was resisting coming to a close. She fanned herself as she walked to her car, slipping inside and rolling down the windows to let some of the heat out.
Col’s handsome face danced in front of her eyes. She’d come so close to kissing him again last night, she wasn’t sure how much longer she would be able to resist. The main question was, would she regret it more if she let him go without tasting him again or if she gave in and lost him a second time? The conference was tomorrow and his father’s funeral must be soon after. Then he’d be gone...again.
Breaking the Bro Code Page 8
