Watching Over Me: A Dreams Novel

by Kamery Solomon

  “I saw you get in that cab with your roommate and those two boys! You didn’t come back until three in the morning!”

  “I’m going to ignore the fact that you’ve basically been stalking me all the time now and not only during class,” I snarled. “If you would have asked me like a normal human being, I would have told you that we went to the parade in The Village. Then we drove downtown and got some pizza. We didn’t get to the restaurant until after midnight and by the time we were done eating and talking, yes, I got home at three in the morning.”

  “You didn’t leave to . . . do things?” He sounded surprised, which was even more insulting than his accusations. My own anger spiked rapidly, my nostrils flaring as I tried to keep it together. Where did he get off being upset with me over something like this? These weren’t classes anymore, they were trials. Fuming, I shot back a reply.

  “Like have sex? Oh yeah, we had loads of it. With everyone. It was a big fat orgy. Where the hell do you get off, asking me a question like that? The only ‘things’ we left to do were the parade and pizza.” Angrily, I reached up and started untying my blindfold.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving,” I snapped. “I don’t need to stand around and basically be called a whore by a stranger.”

  “Scarlet, wait,” he sighed, exasperated. “I didn’t mean—shit. It does sound like that. I’m sorry. Please stay.”

  “Why should I?” I asked, pausing in my untying.

  “I just thought—I don’t know what I thought. I canceled our class because I needed another night to gather myself before I could be around you again, without carrying you out of here to do things you could only imagine to your body. I stand here every night fighting the urge to take you in my arms and kiss you all over, watching your beautiful legs and arms move exactly the way I tell them to. It’s been torture to me, all these weeks. And then, the other night, you told me not to stop. And I wasn’t going to. But there’s something you don’t know about me, something I can’t tell you. I don’t want to tell you. It will change everything.”

  He paused for a moment, a frustrated sigh escaping him. My heart was pounding in my ears again, and I wanted to step forward and feel his touch on my skin. I was still angry with him, though, and refused to give in to the desire..

  “When I saw you with him, I thought—I felt like I’d lost something that was mine. I was angry with you for not feeling the same way about me. I understand why you don’t, and I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this now. You said it yourself; I’m a stranger. You’ve never even seen me.”

  I could feel another crossroad in front of me, one where I decided to leave this room and never meet Sir again, or I stayed and threw myself into something that might kill me in the end. I knew the logical thing to do. Suddenly, I didn’t care.

  “But I’ve felt you,” I replied quietly, my mouth going dry. “And I do feel the same way. I wait for you to touch me, to kiss me again. It’s all I’ve thought about since that night. Even the very first time you ever felt me, I could feel something different about you. It made me uncomfortable at first, but now all I want is to feel you.”

  The sound of him crossing the room almost didn’t even reach my ears, he moved so fast. Before I could gather myself, his hands were on my face, in my hair, his lips crushing into mine. Instantly bruising, they pushed back eagerly, my hands fisting into his sweater as he grabbed my waist, pulling me closer, walking us backward until we were against the wall.

  His body pressed on me, almost painfully hard, his hands making quick work of taking down my hair. Fire ran through my veins as we melded together, my breath catching whenever he would release me for a second.

  I could feel it; my body was telling me to move, to dance with his in this primal encounter, to surrender to him completely and never stop. And I listened like I’d never listened before.

  Anchoring myself along the wall, I picked my legs up and wrapped them around his waist, letting my hands slide up, pulling the sweater with them.

  “Wait,” he panted. “Please. Don’t.”

  “What is it?” I asked, rocking against him slightly. “Is this not okay?”

  “It is.” He nodded quickly, his forehead brushing back and forth against mine. “Oh God, yes it is.” Capturing my mouth once more, his hands slid under my practice skirt and onto the leotard underneath. “Damn it,” he moaned. “Clothes.”

  “Take them off,” I muttered back against his lips. “Like this.” Slowly, I began to pull his sweater up once more, locking my legs around him.

  “Wait,” he said again, sounding more frustrated by the moment. “No. No, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “What’s wrong?” There was something in his voice that was so scared sounding, like a child who’d discovered they had lost their mother.

  “I just can’t,” he whispered, sliding his hands down my legs and helping me to the ground. “I’m so sorry, Scarlet. I wish I could explain, but there’s no way. Not without you finding out who I am.”

  “Would that really be such a bad thing?” I argued, feeling unsettled. “Would it really be so awful if I saw your face?”

  “I’m not ready,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Okay! All of my snowflakes in this corner please.” Mr. Lutz, one of the choreographers for the production, motioned the group of women I was in to the side as he spoke to the pianist. His black shirt and dance pants looked as if they’d just come from the cleaners, despite all the work they’d been put through already. Amazingly enough, his hair looked as good, making me wonder how much hairspray he used to keep it that way. “We’re going to take it from the top again, thank you. It sounds lovely!”

  Hurrying across the floor, sweat slipping down the side of my face, I quickly ran a hand over my own hair, making sure it was still in place. It was only day one of our rehearsals for The Nutcracker and we were being worked hard. On the other side of the group, Meg gulped from a water bottle, her face slightly red. A few of the other girls from the program mixed into the group as well, the rest made up by regular members of the company.

  “All right, Snowflakes,” Mr. Lutz started again. “You’re doing wonderfully. Remember, when you first come on the stage, your hands need to be like this.” Demonstrating, he crossed from our corner to the center of the room. “And your leg is only half extended in the turn. Some of you are reaching all the way out, which does look nice as well, but that’s not what we want.”

  Nodding, I stretched my feet and ankles out, alternating between pointing and flexing as I listened, breathing deeply. We’d been at it for four hours now. Before that, we’d had our early morning warm up, followed by contemporary class and jazz. There’d been an hour and a half break for lunch and then this. If we were lucky, we’d be finished at nine tonight, with a good portion of the choreography for our parts in the show learned.

  “Let’s do it again! The Waltz of the Snowflakes!” Clapping his hands together, he nodded at the pianist as he walked off the floor and took a seat in front of the mirrors to watch.

  Breathing deeply, I ran my hands down my leotard and over my practice skirt, taking one last second to stretch out my legs. The music started up, the pianist playing without hardly any effort it seemed, and the first group entered the “stage” as the rest of us waited on the sidelines. When my cue came, I departed with the three other girls in my group and we entered the dance space.

  “Good, good,” Mr. Lutz said, watching intently. “Jessica, watch that turn—yes, just like that. Very nice. Scarlet, you’re a little too far back. That’s much better. Slow, slow, slow, and then—! Yes, jump right into it!”

  The last group entered the space and we danced as one, and I tried to make sure I didn’t fall out of formation again. Behind us, the principal dancers readied to perform the spotlight to our number.

  Pointe shoes twisting across the floor, I moved to make room for them, as I was supposed to, every fiber o
f my being concentrated on the task at hand.

  “Stop,” Mr. Lutz said to the pianist, waving at us to do the same. “Snowflakes, take a break. You two, let’s work on your part here for the next little while.”

  A breath of relief washed through me and I turned to my bag at the front of the room, knowing that my water jug was sitting barely out of sight behind it. We cleared the work space quickly, sitting around the sides of the room, some dancers even stepping out into the hall.

  “Scar,” Meg whispered as she passed, indicating that she wanted to go out as well.

  Quickly grabbing my drink, I exited with her, taking a seat on the floor outside. “This is harder than I imagined,” I laughed, twisting the cap off and raising the bottle to my lips.

  “I know. And all the company members were working on it while we were in class this morning. Their lives are literally rehearsal all day and then performances at night. And we want to do that.” She snickered, sitting beside me and stretching her legs out.

  “It sounds wonderful,” I agreed dreamily. “But I imagine they’re excited for time off during the holidays.”

  “I know I am. My mom will be back from London for Thanksgiving and then she’ll be spending Christmas with us as well.”

  “Is she enjoying choreographing the show over there? I know you said that she doesn’t particularly like leaving you and your dad.” Setting my water down, I extended my arms some so they wouldn’t be so tight later.

  “Oh, he went with her,” she replied, laughing. “And yeah, I think she really enjoys working there. Everyone wants her to share her opinion and tell them about her time at the company. I guess that’s what happens when you’re world famous.”

  “I didn’t realize you were by yourself here,” I said sympathetically.

  “It’s fine.” Brushing it off with a small wave of her hand, she took a drink of her own water. “It’s not like I’m living by myself. The only reason Dad went with her was because I was staying here at UD. I think it will be good for them to have that time together. He has to come back every couple of weeks for work—he’ll actually be home next week—so I see him every now and then. Nothing like you and your dad.”

  “He’s actually going to fly in and see the show.” A huge smile covered my face and I laughed. “He’s so excited that I got cast. I bet the whole town thinks I’m the lead because he goes on about it so much.”

  “How sweet!” She was distracted by the buzzing of her phone, which she’d grabbed before leaving the room, and looked down, her facial features lighting up.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s a text from Colt.” Eagerly, she opened the message and replied. “I’m telling him we’re at practice right now and I’ll talk later. He was saying hi.”

  “You two hit it off pretty well,” I noted, trying to sound casual about it.

  “I like him a lot,” she confessed. “But I don’t know that anything will ever really come from it.” Her tone turned sad, eyes gaining a faraway look.

  “Why not? He’s obviously still thinking about you and he’s on the other side of the country.”

  “There’s a chance he’ll have to stay longer for filming. The studio is trying to sell two sequels to the movie. If they do, he’ll be contracted for another four months to film those right away.” Her voice fell to a whisper as she spoke, as she quickly glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to hear. “The company director almost lost his shit when he found out. That would put Colt out for the rest of the season. If that happens, they might not renew his contract here. He would have to find a job somewhere else, maybe even stay in Hollywood.”

  “But if the movie goes over well, he’ll be a huge star. Won’t the company want to sign him so he’ll bring in his fan base?” I’d been completely in the dark on all the controversy, probably like everyone else. How many people had Colt shared this information with?

  “That’s what I thought, too, but he doesn’t seem to think so.” Shaking her head, she sighed, her shoulders slumping a bit. “If he stays in Hollywood and I’m here, nothing is going to happen with us. There’s a reason that Dad goes with Mom whenever he can—long distance relationships just don’t work. Not forever.”

  “It’ll work out if it’s supposed to.” I wanted to be comforting, but I didn’t really know what to say. I had no idea how serious they were with each other, or if they were really wanting it to work out.

  “I guess. But, hey, enough about me. You didn’t tell me about your class last night like normal. Did something happen?”

  Blushing furiously, I shook my head. Immediately, I could feel Sir’s hands on me, his lips on mine. It was all too easy to recall the heat of his breath, how steady and strong he’d felt as I’d wrapped myself around him. “No, nothing happened.”

  “Really?” She didn’t sound like she believed me at all, staring pointedly at my red face. “Not a single thing? After he canceled on you? And let’s not forget he kissed you.”

  Shaking my head again, I looked down at the floor, pressing my lips together in embarrassment.

  “You are a terrible liar, Scarlet Redford!” She laughed. “What happened?”

  “Nothing!” I answered again, grinning. “And everything. We worked it all out—I think.”

  “What does that even mean?” She was getting exasperated, but I was saved from answering.

  “Snowflakes back to the dance floor, please,” Mr. Lutz called, poking his head out into the hall.

  Rising, Meg looked at me decidedly. “Everything is okay? You’re not dancing with a murderer? And you’ll tell me what happened when you’re ready?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. He’s safe, I promise.” Smiling, I linked my arms with hers. “But now we need to practice some more.”

  The next three hours passed quickly, aided by the heavy load we were given by Mr. Lutz. By the time we were finished, I was exhausted.

  “Are you coming back to the room?” Meg asked, shouldering her bag.

  “I can’t, I have class.” Shrugging, I picked up my own bag, not even bothering to take off my pointe shoes. “I’ll be back late, like always.”

  “Oh. Right.” Rolling her eyes at herself, she said her goodbyes and left, yawning as she crossed the threshold.

  “Miss Redford,” Mr. Lutz said as I moved for the door. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

  “Sure.” Swallowing down the instant fear that rose inside me, I went to him. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, no!” He laughed, rubbing his hands together. “Everything is fine. I only wanted to say to work on the third movement a little. It looks good, but you’re not quite matching up with the other girls in your section yet. I know it’s only the first day, but it’s never too early to correct. The earlier the better, I say!”

  “Oh, thank you!” Blushing slightly, I nodded in agreement. “I’d much rather fix it now than later and have to take up everyone’s time while I got it right.”

  “Exactly.” Smiling in a friendly manner, he motioned for me to go, turning back to the notes he’d been making on a legal pad.

  Heart pounding, I left the room, sighing heavily. Why was it that any variation of “we need to talk” made me so nervous? I immediately thought I’d done something wrong, or that I was being told to go home.

  When I reached the stairs, ready to go down to the practice room that Sir and I normally used, I found a single, red rose on the top step. Underneath it was a note, with handwriting I recognized.

  Upstairs.

  Smiling, I smelled the rose, turning to go up instead of down. How long had he been here, waiting for me to come out so he could place this where I’d see it? Had he been watching our rehearsal? Probably, if he really had been watching over me like he’d said.

  It was dark upstairs, except for one room that was pouring light into the hall. Slowly, I started pulling the blindfold out of my bag, moving to the entrance. I didn’t particularly want to dance any more tonight—there were plenty of other thin
gs I wanted to do with Sir—but I also knew that he would help me with the third section of the dance I needed to fix. My legs felt like jelly, I was so tired, but I would have to push through.

  All thoughts of sleep and arousal left me as I stepped up to the door, eyes landing on Sir.

  Chapter Twelve

  His back was to me, his blue jacket pulled around him with the hood up. I had no idea who he was, but I didn’t really care right then. All I could do was stare at him, drinking in the first image I had of him that wasn’t a shadow.

  Looking at something he held in his hands, he was tall, taller than I’d imagined. His legs were long and muscular, clothed in dance pants, his feet in socks. Strong was the word that came to mind as I watched him, imagining what the obscured face must look like.

  “Have you been dancing?” I asked quietly, not wanting to startle him.

  Stiffening some, he straightened, his hands going to his sides, the sleeves of his jacket covering them. “Yes, I have.”

  “You’ve never given me a chance to look at you before.” There was wonder in my voice, but I remained in the doorway. If he wasn’t ready for me to know who he was, I would respect that, despite wanting nothing more than to see his face.

  “I know.” He sounded tired, sad even, with a mournful quality to his voice as he tugged on his sweater some. “Are you ready to dance?”

  “As I’ll ever be. I’m really tired from today’s rehearsal.” Quietly, I removed the blindfold from my bag and tied it around my eyes, moving into the room and closing the door behind me. “Where do you want me? I’m already pretty warmed up.”

  “I’m sorry, Scarlet,” he sighed. “I wasn’t paying attention and you caught me off guard. Come toward me, the floor is clear.”

  “I don’t mind,” I replied simply, smiling as I thought about how much I’d come to like the act of putting on a blindfold. It meant that I was spending time with him. “You don’t want me to know who you are. I can respect that until you’re ready.”