Natalie raised an eyebrow. “All of it? Might be kind of hard without Jason.”
“I can fill in for anything that’s not a lift or the flying shoulder sits. We can just mark those. I can support you enough through the rest, though.” Ana shrugged her hoodie off her shoulders.
“Wait. You’re dancing with me?”
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like I haven’t seen the choreography a million times.”
Natalie stared at her in mystification, her mind rolling through the sequences she’d come to know and then imagining it all happening in Ana’s arms, rather than Jason’s. The idea alone made her heart stop and her stomach tighten. She tried to smile it away, but she faltered, the idea of the intimate contact overwhelming her senses. But she didn’t have time to linger, as Ana joined her in the middle of the floor. Natalie assumed her opening pose and Ana wrapped an arm around her from behind, just as Jason would have, and extended her arm along Natalie’s.
Only it felt nothing like when Jason did it.
Not even close.
Was this even the same ballet?
The music began and they leapt into motion. Dancing side by side. Ana took her by the hand and led her upstage, never breaking eye contact. Natalie moved into her body and then away, just as always, only this time her temperature climbed. She spun. They danced, Ana’s hands on her waist, her stomach, her thighs. The flashes of emotion, the give and take of the characters, added a whole other element, and dancing through that dynamic with Ana…had her body thrumming beneath Ana’s touch.
Though they skipped the lift, Ana caught her at the end of the pas de deux and pulled her close, ending the sequence flush with each other.
“You did great,” Ana said in her ear, and held her a moment longer as Natalie’s breath came in short little gasps, part exertion, part arousal. Ana released Natalie solemnly, nodded to her, and headed back to the bench. Okay, so she hadn’t been the only one who had felt the electricity back there. That much was now clear. She stared at the ceiling, understanding that this was a slippery slope they were on, and she had to find a way to maneuver it gracefully.
“Have you ever thought about teaching?” Natalie asked, focusing on the work. That could be her new plan. Take a page from Ana’s book and make it all about the show. Ana considered the question as they gathered their things to head home. It had been a more than productive session, and she owed Ana big-time.
“Not really,” Ana said. “Why?”
“You’d be amazing at it. The way you explain yourself to a dancer is refreshing. You’re direct and clear. Plus you’re knowledgeable and patient. The patient part is kind of surprising, I have to admit.”
Ana laughed quietly. “Why do you say that?”
Natalie tried to find the best way to explain. “You’re wound kind of tight, no?”
“Okay, I can cop to that.”
“So patience with others is not exactly what I would have expected.”
Ana shrugged as they departed the studio together. “I’m hard on myself. I have high expectations, but it’s not like I want others to fail. Quite the opposite. I want you to be good.”
“You just want to be better,” Natalie said knowingly.
“Well, who doesn’t?”
They walked in silence much of the way to the train. Natalie was tired from the day, sore from dancing, and her mind extra cognizant of this new and overwhelming attraction to the one person who drove her up the wall. Ana had, for the most part, presented herself as uptight, overly ambitious, and quite often, closed off. What about that combination had Natalie lusting after her was a mystery. The problem was, she now knew there was more to Ana than that, and she for damn sure couldn’t get Ana out of her head.
But it wasn’t like anything could come of it.
Natalie had Morgan, who was so much easier, less complex, and always on her side.
But that understanding didn’t stop her from stealing a glance or two at Ana as they walked. The sky was dark and her hair blew back in the chilly autumn wind, highlighting what were surprisingly delicate features.
“Where do you go when you dance?” Ana asked her. The question shattered the silence. The wind picked up and Natalie braced against it, shrugging her jacket tighter around her shoulders.
“Where do I go?”
“In your mind. It’s like something takes over. I’ve seen it.”
“I think it’s about harnessing emotion. Some of it’s my own. Some of it belongs to the character. It’s about tapping into yourself and seeing what you have to give. What you feel.”
“I don’t do that too often.”
“You don’t do what?”
“Let myself feel.”
Natalie stopped walking right there on the street corner, which brought Ana to a halt next to her. “And that’s a total shame. You know that, right?”
Ana nodded. “But I did tonight. When we danced.”
Tingles traced the outside of Natalie’s skin. “Did what?”
“Felt something.” A pause. “You don’t have to say anything to that. In fact, I’m not even sure why I told you. I shouldn’t have.”
The comment surprised Natalie and she wasn’t quite sure what to say. Instead, they walked on in silence. “Me too,” were the words she heard leave her lips after a few long moments.
Ana turned to her, so many questions apparent in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. As they walked, Natalie stared up at the darkened sky. A sliver of moonlight peeked out. The street was fairly quiet for that time of night in the city, and she took a moment to enjoy the serenity. Ana slid her hands into her jacket pockets. “Sometimes I think I must be the most boring person on the planet.”
“Trust me. You’re not.”
“I’m beginning to wonder. All I think about is rehearsal, injuries, hair, makeup, and pointe shoes. Lately, I’ve been thinking about more, though.”
“You have?”
“Strangely, yes. It’s really all your fault. Or all your credit, depending on how you look at it.”
“Explain it to me, then.”
She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Okay. I guess I could try. It’s like I’ve taken the blinders off. The world’s bigger than I sometimes realize, and spending time with you has, I suppose, reminded me of that.”
“I don’t know how much I actually had to do with it, but that’s an important realization,” Natalie said. “There’s so much more to life than what you do for a living. Don’t forget the more, Ana.”
The evening had taken a heavy turn, but when they arrived back at the apartment, Natalie knew she wasn’t ready to say good night. In order to hang on a little longer, she needed to do something to bring them out of it, to lighten the mood. She hung her cargo jacket on the back of Ana’s door and gestured to the TV that didn’t seem to get a lot of use, if she took into account the books that were stacked in front of it. “Want to see what’s on?”
Ana looked at her like she’d asked for an elephant ride through downtown and sat on the floor to roll out her muscles. “What’s on what?”
Natalie shook her head. “Things are worse than I thought. Did you know that this square box turns on and lights up?”
“I wondered why they were so popular.”
“May I?” Natalie asked.
“Be my guest.” Ana smiled at the meaning of her statement. “In fact, you are.”
“You enjoyed that little playout.”
“A tad,” Ana said. “What are we watching?”
“It doesn’t matter. That’s kind of the point.”
“It doesn’t matter?”
“Nope. We’re looking for mindless and entertaining. No redeeming value required for decompression TV, and no deep thinking. None.”
“You seem to have thought this through.”
“Thought it through? I’ve perfected the art. I’m a pro at mindless and entertaining. Boom,” Natalie said, and pointed at the screen. “Funniest Home Videos. This can’t be beat in t
erms of mindless. Are you watching? Because this is important. You need to watch.”
Ana stared at the screen a moment. “Ouch. That kid just fell face first in the snow. Where are his parents?”
“Behind the camera, but he’s laughing, so all is well.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“I am. I’m a Funniest Videos regular. Take notes.”
“In progress.”
As the show played on, Ana eventually made her way onto the couch next to Natalie. Every few minutes she chuckled quietly, and as time went on, her body did seem to relax. She’d pulled her feet beneath her and sunk back against the cushion in a display Natalie couldn’t describe as anything other than adorable. It was genuinely the most relaxed Natalie had ever seen her, and on Ana, relaxed looked…hot. Though lately, everything on Ana seemed hot. Natalie had developed some sort of complex…or crush.
“What’s next?” Ana asked, as the credits rolled. She was clearly enjoying herself and seemed lighter, girlish even. Natalie flipped through the stations until she landed on a home repair show.
“Perfect. This is where we get to watch people other than ourselves take run-down houses and turn them into beautiful homes without either one of us having to lift a finger.”
“My kind of work,” Ana said and they settled in to watch. Thirty minutes later, Natalie pulled the blanket she’d folded that morning across her lap.
“You cold?” she asked Ana, who nodded and accepted a section of the blanket. They were close now, and Natalie felt Ana’s leg brush against hers and swallowed against the rush of something potent that hit her at the contact.
God, she couldn’t go down this path with Ana.
She just couldn’t.
But at the same time, she was curious as to what was suspended between them, and that curiosity nudged her closer to the girl who’d been her nemesis just weeks ago. What was it about Ana that had captured her attention and would not let it the hell go? Whatever it was, it sucked up all the air in the room and made Natalie crave things best left untouched. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d legitimately craved.
“I should say thank you,” Ana said, her cheek against the couch as she faced Natalie.
“For what? You’re the one who helped me tonight back at the studio.”
“I wasn’t talking about work. I was talking about this. Life. All of it.” Ana seemed shy all of a sudden and sat forward on the couch so she wouldn’t have to look at Natalie. The vulnerability was a whole new shade on her. “This was fun. I still need to go over notes before bed, but I feel better somehow. Decompressed.”
“Because you’re just being a person. Chillin’ on the couch.”
Ana laughed. “I’ve never thought of myself as someone who ‘chills on a couch,’ but I embrace the moniker.”
“Well, now you can. A prima ballerina capable of chillin’. An impressive combo, Ana M.”
They sat back and watched two more episodes of Fixer Upper before Natalie felt the weight of her eyes take over. She fought against the impending sleep, but must have lost the battle. When she awoke, the room was dark and silent…and warm. Warm in the best way. The kind you want to curl into and never leave. She glanced down to find Ana asleep against her shoulder, her hair tousled and covering one eye. Natalie’s mind struggled to piece together the circumstances, but came up short. Didn’t matter. She enjoyed it—the closeness and the warmth Ana brought. With a satisfied sigh, Natalie pulled Ana in closer and fell back asleep.
Chapter Seven
The poster on the stark white wall in front of Ana showed the image of a transparent foot. Inside the drawing, she could see each bone, tendon, and ligament that made up one of her most precious commodities, and she marveled at the intricacies so small, but capable of ruining her whole life.
With the pain now nearly overwhelming her ability to dance, she’d come to a specialist she’d grown to trust. Dr. Santillan had seen her through a fractured ankle and pulled ligaments and had even performed surgery when she blew out her knee. Ana trusted him implicitly and knew that he would help her get control of her situation.
Because there had to be a fix.
Even if it was temporary.
She could sideline herself after Aftermath’s closing, if that was what it took, but this show was too important for her to let anything get in the way.
The door opened and Dr. Santillan smiled at her, but Mayday!—all was not right. Ana’s stomach dipped because that smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“So what’s the verdict?” Ana asked nervously before he could say anything. He held the MRI of her left foot, which he’d surely just come from studying. “And how do we fix it?”
“Well, that’s the thing,” Dr. Santillan said, and took a seat on the black stool across from her. “It’s a bit more complicated this time, Ana. The tendinitis in your foot has progressed. Your longus tendon,” he said, pointing to the bottom of her foot on the dark paper, “has become so thin from the strain of dancing that we’re dealing with full-on tendinopathy.”
A chill moved up her spine. She immediately shook it off and focused on the matter at hand. “And what’s the fix for that? A steroid injection? Something to bolster its strength again?”
He shook his head in apology.
“I don’t know what tendinopathy is.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to, either. She glanced at the ceiling for some sort of reprieve from what she was about to hear. Her palms were cold and sweaty, and suddenly it felt hard to achieve more than a shallow breath.
“It means the tendon is so overrun with small tears that it’s exceptionally vulnerable, thin, and weak. As a ballet dancer, you’re forced to maintain a variety of unnatural positions on your toes and ball of your foot. Eventually, in my experience treating dancers, it becomes a test of whose body can withstand the conditions longest. You’re close to thirty now, Ana, and it’s possible that your body is done.”
“It’s not done.” She refused to entertain that concept. “How do we treat the tendon? That’s what we should be talking about.”
“Rest and immobilization for seven to ten days will help alleviate the immediate inflammation and thereby the pain, but if you continue to dance on that foot day after day at intense levels, you’re going to be right back to square one. There’s no escaping it, Ana.”
“Taking ten days off right now is not an option. I’m about to open in a new ballet, the most important role I’ve ever danced. I need you to help me make it through.”
“I can’t do that.” Dr. Santillan gestured to her foot. “You dance on the foot in the condition that it’s in now and the tendon could snap at any second. If that happens, then it’s all over. There’s nothing I can do. No more dancing.”
An icy shiver moved up her spine and her limbs felt thick and heavy. She placed her hand over her heart to somehow stop the rapid thudding and take control of this situation. “So your advice is to just quit? That’s in no way an option.”
“I don’t think you understand how serious this is.”
She turned her head to hide the tears, now hot and full in her eyes. “So I’m supposed to just walk away from the job that I love more than anything on the planet? The only thing I know how to do?” She knew of dancers who’d been in her position before. They transitioned to choreography or teaching. She’d just never imagined that kind of life for herself. She was a professional ballet dancer, damn it, and at the height of her career. Ana wasn’t going to let anyone or anything interfere with that.
“Please tell me this isn’t happening,” she whispered.
He placed a hand on hers, but the news didn’t change. “I wish I could.”
As she walked home that night, she allowed herself to feel the pain beneath each step. In a way, it made her feel as if she were facing the enemy head-on. She had to acknowledge the problem before she could fix it. Then and there, she formulated a plan. Instead of pushing the pain aside, ignoring it as she danced, she would instead pay more attention a
nd keep careful tabs on how her foot felt at any given moment. She could take breaks in rehearsal if necessary, let Natalie fill in for her. But there was no way she was pulling herself from Aftermath altogether. The idea was insane. She would worry about what came after the show later. Tell Bill she needed some time off, if it came to that. No need to rush to any rash conclusions just yet. One day at a time.
“So how was your appointment?” Natalie asked when she arrived home. She was in the process of retrieving a mug from the microwave and wore yoga pants and a soft sweatshirt that drifted off her shoulder just a tad.
“Just a check-in with my foot guy.”
“And all is well?” Natalie handed the mug to Ana and pulled a second from the cabinet. She really was learning her way around the place, and after several days of having her there, the initial unease of a houseguest had waned. Ana had started to look forward to seeing Natalie when she arrived home. Shocking really. And who knew how much longer that could be, given that they were now completely replacing the faulty pipes in Natalie’s apartment. There were definitely worst sentences she could be dealt.
“As well as could be expected, given what we do. Can I ask you something?”
“I’m confident you can. What’s your question?”
“How many injuries have you had?”
Natalie raised her eyebrows. “How long do you have?”
“See? That’s my point. Injury is just a part of the job. Oh, what is this?” she said, inspecting the contents of the mug that smelled delicious and warmed her hands.
“Hot cocoa. An important part of one’s daily nutrition. Especially when it’s cold out.”
“I think I love it.” Ana took a sip and closed her eyes in surrender as the thick chocolaty goodness extended its warmth to her throat. “Now I know I do. Yeah, that’s nice. I’m gonna hold on to this.”
“Just trying to earn my keep,” Natalie told her, purposely beaming.
“I’m starting to believe you.”
“About that. Sal-of-the-gum-chewing said the guys are wrapping up across the hall. Tonight could be the last night I force you to hang out with me.”
First Position Page 10
