Letting go of his hand, I inhaled deeply, savoring the heady scent of coffee and sweets. This place was paradise.
“What do you want?” Josh asked, already ordering. I rattled off my usual, and then we went to the end of the counter and waited for our drinks. Once we had them, we took two high stools beside the high wood counter along the outer wall. The top half of the wall was glass and we could see people coming and going outside.
Across the street, I saw Martha, Clare, and Joanna. The three of them seemed happy, with big smiles and a spring in their steps as they left the company’s building.
I stared at the coffee enveloped in both my hands.
Josh’s hand brushed my knuckles. “Don’t let them get to you like that.”
I pulled my hands away. “Why are you doing this?”
A knot appeared on his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“This.” I gestured to us, to the coffee cups, and the shop around us. “Acting like you care.” I sighed. “I think I would rather be home, crying alone.”
“They don’t deserve your tears,” he said in a low voice.
What did that mean? Was there someone who deserved my tears?
“You didn’t answer my question,” I said, not letting him turn this around to me. “Why are you doing this, Josh? What do you want?”
***
Josh
“I ca—”
My cell phone rang and for some reason, I shut my mouth and reached for it.
“Mom” flashed on the screen and I groaned. I thought about not answering, but knowing her, she would call me every five minutes until I picked up. Since I didn’t want to leave Rayna alone here, I decided to get this over with.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, my eyes on Rayna’s.
“Hello, dear. How are you?” Hearing how happy she was to talk to me twisted the emotional knife deeper.
“I’m good. How are things over there?”
“Everything is good.” She quickly explained how Dad missed having me around to help out with his business, how he was always complaining that I still had two years until graduation, two years when I wouldn’t be there working with him. I stifled a groan, and Rayna noticed. Her eyes widened at me, and then she stared at her coffee again. Next, my mother told me about my sister, Sarah. Apparently, there was this guy from school who was courting her—my mother’s word, not mine—but Dad refused to meet him. Typical. “How is college, dear? You aren’t taking too many classes, are you?”
“College is great.” I watched Rayna and, as expected, her head whipped in my direction, her eyes wide once more. Looking into her hazel eyes, I continued, “I’m really enjoying my classes this semester.”
“And, hm, have you met anyone at the college parties you go to?”
“I don’t go to too many college parties, Mom. I’m trying to focus on studying more than anything else.” I paused for effect. “But I met a girl who has been on my mind a lot.” Rayna’s cheeks reddened and she lowered her gaze.
“Oh, what’s her name?”
“Rayna Monroe,” I said.
“Rayna. That’s a pretty name.”
“I like her name too. And, it’s not only her name, Mom. She’s pretty.” I reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Rayna’s ear. Taking advantage of that simple touch, I traced my fingertip down her jaw and forced her to look at me.
“Do you like her? Are you two together?”
“I care about her. A lot,” I said, holding Rayna’s stunned stare. “Unfortunately, we’re not together, but I’m going to try to change that.”
I could hear the smile in my mother’s lips as she said, “If she makes you happy, you should. And then I want to meet her.”
I chuckled. “Yes, Mom. I promise that if I win her over, I’ll introduce her to you someday.” I wasn’t lying, but I had no idea how I was going to make it work—both the get-together part, and the meet-the-parents part.
My mother and I talked a little more about Rayna and college. She also asked when I was coming to see them, to which I answered that I had no idea.
When I ended the call, Rayna was rigid beside me, staring at her coffee cup.
“Hey.” I reached for her and again brushed my hand on her knuckles. This time, she didn’t pull it away. “Are you going to pretend you didn’t hear all that?”
“I’m trying,” she whispered.
“Want to talk about it?”
She spied me from under her lashes. “Tell me about this college thing.”
I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “I started dancing when I was eight, with Robbie and some other boys from my school. We joined a studio with hip hop and street dancing classes. However, when we got older, the director of the studio said that ballet was the base of all dances and if we wanted to continue taking classes at her studio, we would have to take ballet classes too. At first, we laughed and teased and wouldn’t do it. But when she called our parents and said we had to drop out, we sort of manned up, as much as we could at thirteen, and we started ballet classes once a week. Back then, I think my parents thought it was a hobby, a way of exercising and having fun with my friends. They didn’t care about it. But I did. I fell in love with it, and in less than six months, the director talked to me about taking ballet more seriously. She said I had talent and could go far.”
“She was right.”
“Well, yes, but it wasn’t easy. My parents, my father mostly, didn’t approve. So I continued taking ballet classes in secret and did everything my parents expected of me. I went to college for accounting so, when I graduated, I could join my father at his business and someday take over.” I winced thinking about it. “After my freshman year, I lied to my parents and told them I’d gotten a summer internship here in New York. Well, the location part was true, but the lie was which kind of internship. They thought my internship was in accounting, but I had scored a summer internship with Jeffrey Ballet.”
Rayna’s eyebrows raised in appreciation. “Jeffrey’s reputation is incredible.”
I nodded. “After the internship, I was offered a place at the Washington Dance Company. I hated the idea of lying to my parents even more, so I stayed another year in college, suffering through my classes, and squeezing in ballet anywhere I could. The next summer, I got another internship with Jeffrey and was again offered a spot in a big company, this time with NYBT. I didn’t answer right away, because this was a hard decision for me. I was almost twenty years old. Though there are stories of late dancers who make it to the top, they are rare, and the longer I waited to go after what I wanted, the harder it would be. I knew that if I waited another year or two, then my chance would be gone forever. So, I sat down with my parents to tell them about my decision. When I mentioned dance, my father smiled and said, ‘Thank goodness that silly thing is behind us.’” I snorted. “I didn’t have the guts to tell them, so I lied once more and told them I had gotten a transfer to a big university here with a scholarship and all that shit. And here I am, pretending I’m in my third year of an accounting degree, when in fact I dance ballet all day instead.”
Rayna stared at me with those huge hazel eyes. The sun was setting and the light hit her face just right, showing me the bright gold flecks hidden among the hazel in her eyes. Her fair skin gained a sun-kissed tint and her lips darkened to a reddish-pink. It was all I could do not to reach out and kiss her.
Surprising me, she reached over and intertwined her fingers with mine. “That’s … I’m sorry you have to do that. To lie to your parents so you can live your dream.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry too.” I squeezed her hand. “The worst part is knowing that someday they will find out. In a little over eighteen months, at the latest.”
I was expecting some judgment or some reprimand, like I got from Robbie every once in a while, but instead, she surprised me.
“Would you like to hear my story now?”
Chapter Fifteen
Rayna
Josh offered me an amused
smile. “Sure. Who doesn’t love some drama?”
I scrunched my nose. “I thought most guys didn’t.”
“I’m not like most guys,” he whispered as if that was a secret. “I’m kidding. I hate drama, but if you’re willing to share, I would be glad to listen.”
I stared at our joined hands. “You probably heard that my mother was a dancer with the company.” He nodded and I lifted my eyes to his. “She was a great dancer and she was on her way to the top. But she got hurt a few days before her official promotion to principal, and she was never able to come back. Years passed. She got married. She had me, and soon after that, my father left. We never talk about him, but I think her sadness over not dancing anymore was too much for him to handle.”
“That’s tough.”
“I guess so. Anyway, she started teaching me ballet as soon as I could walk. I was three when I started at a studio, taking two or three classes a week, which is much more than any kid that age usually takes. But I didn’t mind because it was our thing. Ballet was what brought us together, our common ground. We both loved it so much. So, when she started pushing me to be better, to improve, to dedicate myself more, I let her, because of my dream of joining NYBT and becoming a principal dancer. In the beginning, I even encouraged her. When I was fourteen years old, I got an internship as a ballet instructor at The Dance Corner. You know that studio. I had previously danced there, though for a brief time. I taught little girls from three to ten years old in four different classes and I loved it. I loved every second of it. The Dance Corner puts on a few small recitals during the year, including one at the end of the summer, for the girls who participated in summer classes. I got to help with that. It was a crazy rush setting up the dates, finding a venue, making the backdrops, helping with the costumes, choreographing the dances, helping with the rehearsals, and all that. I was only fourteen, but I felt like an adult, like I was making a difference. So, I started teaching at The Dance Corner permanently. Two or three classes early in the mornings each week, and I still help with recitals when I can too.”
“I can see you really like it,” Josh said.
I tilted my head at him. “You can? How?”
“Because you have a big smile on your face and your eyes are twinkling.” Warmth crept up on my cheeks. “And now you’re embarrassed. Why?”
“Not embarrassed per se, just self-conscious.” I pulled my hand from his and tucked a strand of my hair aside. I didn’t return my hand to his. “Anyway, as you can guess, my mother didn’t approve because it was time I could be practicing instead. She was upset with me as the years went by and I wasn’t called for NYBT, or any other company. I got into three summer internships before I was called into The Little NYBT, and even then, I think she was disappointed. She wanted me to be like Paulina Ferrera, I guess. Corps de ballet at fifteen, soloist at seventeen, and principal dancer at nineteen.”
“What Paulina Ferrera did was unprecedented, and nobody has been able to do that again since. It was practically impossible. A miracle.”
A small, sad smile took over my lips. “Practically impossible, but not quite. In my mother’s eyes, if someone else could do it, so could I.”
“It’s your career. She shouldn’t push you so much.”
“I guess she sees a little of herself in me. It’s like she has another chance of reaching the top if I succeed.”
He frowned. “It still doesn’t sound right.” Like lying to his parents about his career choices didn’t sound right. But who was I to judge? That was his problem. “Is this what you really want?”
“Being with NYBT?” I asked to confirm what he meant. He nodded. “I have my love and hate phases. I love ballet and I love knowing I’m with such a prestigious company, and I love the performances. But I hate the strict schedule, the strict diet, the small pay, and I hate, hate the competition and the drama. I just want to dance and have fun and enjoy it, you know? Here, I always have to mind every one of my steps, because in the end, we are all competing against each other.”
His frown increased. “It’s true. The competition is tough and discouraging, and the drama can get in the way sometimes, but I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life. Can you?”
“If I couldn’t be with NYBT, or if I got hurt and couldn’t dance professionally anymore, then I would like to work with The Dance Corner. Or, if I was brave enough, open my own dance studio.”
Josh was watching me with those big, blue eyes and the attention, the intensity of his gaze, made me squirm. Suddenly even more self-conscious than before, I picked up my cell phone and checked the time. It was almost eight pm. We had been talking for over an hour! And, even though my mother had a meeting-slash-dinner tonight, I shouldn’t get home too late.
I stood. “Thanks for the coffee. And for the talk.”
“Wait.” Josh stood right in front of me. “I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t need to—”
“I want to,” he said, staring into my eyes.
I averted my gaze. “Okay.”
Together, we walked the seven blocks to my building. It was a small three-bedroom apartment in a nice part of Manhattan, with the third, largest bedroom converted into a small dance studio with linoleum floors, bars and mirrors on the wall. My mother had saved all the money she could so we could have a good apartment close to the company—as if she knew that I was going to end up there with her.
Something tugged inside me. One more clue that she may have had a hand in my acceptance with the company. Frustration spread through me. I pushed it away and thought of something else.
Heat spread through my cheeks, and I was sure I looked like red paint had been splashed on my face, because I realized I didn’t have to tell Josh directions to my building as we went, because he had been here before.
“Why are you looking like a shrimp now?”
I chuckled, my embarrassment fading somewhat. “A shrimp?”
“Yeah, all red.”
I shook my head. “Just … remembering you’ve already been inside my apartment.”
“Ah, that.” He shoved his hands inside the pockets of his jeans as we crossed the street. “True, but it was all dark. I didn’t really see anything, other than the girl with me.”
More heat swept over my cheeks and down, down, down in my body. “And yet, you left the poor girl alone.”
He clicked his tongue. “Are you going to punish me for that forever?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“How about I try gaining my forgiveness by telling you about the second part of my conversation with my mother?”
I hid my face, not wanting him to see that I was redder now. “I’m not sure I’m ready to hear about that,” I whispered. It was the truth. With all that we had said before, during the competition weekend, and just now at the coffee shop, I couldn’t think straight.
Thankfully, he didn’t push it.
Until we arrived at the front steps of my building.
“Thanks for the walk,” I said, turning my back on him.
Josh reached over and closed his hand around my wrist. “Wait.” He gently pulled me until I was facing him again. “I want to talk about it.”
“It?” I frowned. “You mean, the second part of the conversation with your mother?”
Three heartbeats passed while he just stared into my eyes. “Yes.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “You aren’t going to tell me you were just inventing all that for her sake, are you?” It would be better than the other alternative—it would hurt more, but in the end, it wouldn’t complicate things so much.
“Nope.” Josh placed his hand inside his pockets. “I meant it when I said I was—am—thinking of you more than I should. It’s like … I can’t stop. I close my eyes and you’re there.” My heart skipped a beat. Damn, I knew what he meant. “I tried really hard to stay away from you, to give you space, to clear my head and focus on dancing, but the truth is, I think I was better at this whole thing when
we danced together.” He took one small step closer to me and I held my breath. “Spending time with you was the best part of my day. And just now, talking to you at the coffee shop and walking you home, I was reminded of that.”
I let the air out slowly. “What do you want from me?” My voice was low, quiet, nervous.
“Anything you can give me. I’m not asking for a serious relationship. Hell, not even I know if I want that, if either of us is ready for that, but I know I want to be with you. To spend some time with you, to dance with you …” He reached over with one hand and brushed his knuckles on my cheek. I shivered. “And to have sex with you.” His thumb grazed over my lips and I stopped breathing. “Say something.”
What could I say? That my insides were melting and the heat on my face was nothing compared to the heat on other parts of my body?
Instead of speaking, I took his hand in mine, lowered it from my face, but didn’t let go. I closed the distance between us, and on tiptoes, brushed my lips on his. “Is this a good answer?”
Josh groaned and leaned into me, taking my mouth with his. His lips were soft and warm, and they moved with mine as if they had a dance of their own, a dance they both knew by heart. Josh’s arms went around me and he pulled me flush against him.
I melted into him and used my lips to show him how much I wanted him.
“What are you trying to do?” he whispered against my lips.
I pulled back a little and checked the time on my phone. It was eight thirty. My mother wouldn’t be home until after ten thirty, probably after eleven.
I bit my lower lip and looked up at him. “Want to come in?”
The shock on Josh’s handsome face lasted only half a second. Then he showed me this sexy grin and my insides melted some more.
This time, we behaved on the elevator, holding hands as we stood side by side. I calmly unlocked my door and invited him in, and gave him a quick tour of the apartment, leaving my bedroom for last. And then … and then we didn’t behave.
***
Josh
Dazzle Me (When You Dance Book 1) Page 12
