by Kendall Ryan
Once Elle finishes assembling the salad, we eat, talking and laughing throughout the meal. Nic’s pasta dish is as delicious as ever. I’m always excited when he invites me over to eat, because if there’s one thing his mom did right, it was pass down her Italian cooking skills.
Before I know it, another hour and a half has passed, and I notice Elle starting to space out a little bit. She mentioned earlier that she gets tired easily, and the last thing I want to do is overstay my welcome. After thanking them for the meal and helping clean up, I head out, deciding to take a walk through the park before heading home.
The second I’m out of the house, my thoughts immediately return to Sienna, like the whole time they’ve just been waiting for me to be alone before completely taking over my mind again. I wonder what she’s doing, how she’s feeling about the other night now that more time has passed, if she’s worried about Ryder finding out.
By the time I circle the park and arrive back by my car, I realize I haven’t stopped thinking about her the whole time. Not to mention my dick has become semi-hard again, rubbing against my jeans in a way I’m not really happy with.
I need to see her again and figure out where her head is at. Because clearly, mine is fucking crawling with thoughts of her, and right now, I can’t tell whether that’s a good thing or not.
Chapter Sixteen
Sienna
“Piqué, piqué turn! And repeat!”
Twenty-four tiny ballet slippers follow every step that I call out, moving in perfect time to the music. How many times have we run this dance tonight? Eight? Nine? I’ve lost count, and I’m sure the girls have too. What started out as a fun little pop-music combo during the first class has evolved into a full-length number that’s nearly recital ready.
Nearly. Yes, I’m being a bit of a perfectionist. These girls are only four, after all. Their parents are more worried about getting a cute picture of their daughter in a tutu than they are about seeing a professional-grade performance. I know that.
“Good! Final pose, girls. Ready?”
As the song builds to its big finish, my ballerinas scurry into formation and strike their final pose, forcing big cheesy smiles as they hold their positions. They look like something out of a ballet-costume catalog. Well, except for two troublemakers in the back who fall down on their little ballerina booties, totally pooped. One of them erupts into giggles, which makes the other girls drop their positions to giggle and point.
All right, I guess my little drama queens are done for the day.
“Great work tonight, ladies! Line up super quick at the door. Miss Helen is waiting out in the lobby with your recital costumes. Make sure your parents pick yours up before you go!”
The girls erupt into excited chatter as they swarm the door, giddy to be released, like fireflies in a jar waiting for me to open the lid. I manage to get them into some semblance of a line before I open the door, sending them flying out into the arms of their parents, who are frantically digging through enormous piles of sparkly white leotards and puffy pink tutus with Helen, talking in excited tones.
“Do you need help?” I call out over the sea of scrambling parents, but Helen shakes her head and shoots me a thumbs-up.
“It’s all under control,” she says from behind a pink tulle barricade. She’s a seasoned pro at this stuff. I’m better off staying out of the way.
Mouthing “good luck” to Helen, I retreat into the studio, closing the door between me and the chaos. Cue the exhausted sigh. I love this job more than anything in the world, but four-year-olds are exhausting, no matter how much you love them. The second I get home, I’ve got a bubble bath and a tall glass of wine with my name on it.
Speaking of home, I’d better check on Ryder’s ETA. When he dropped me at the studio on his way to the office, he pinkie-promised me he would be quick, but if I know my brother even a little, he’s guaranteed to be late. I sashay over to the stereo to check my phone, but I haven’t heard from him.
Ugh. I knew I should have just driven myself, but it made sense earlier since he was going right by the studio.
Balancing two jobs has been a little tricky, but I’m trying to save up so eventually I can move out of his apartment and into a place of my own without having to touch my trust fund. Ever since Case and I slept together, I’ve felt like I’m constantly holding my breath around my brother, worried that I’m going to slip up and say something that gives us away. Living under the same roof as him makes a complicated situation nearly impossible.
Well, as long as I’m stuck here, I might as well dance.
As if I haven’t heard this track enough times in the last hour, I cue it up on my phone one last time.
The beat builds to the chorus and my feet slip into every move in double time, then triple time, and suddenly I’m adding leaps and endless fouetté turns across the floor. I’m freestyling and having fun pushing myself. I lift my arms into first position and point my toes with every turn, the crowd responding with thunderous applause.
Wait, that’s not the crowd. That’s just someone knocking.
I fall out of my turn combination and snap my head toward the door. “Come in.” Maybe Helen changed her mind about me lending a helping hand.
In strolls Ryder, looking a bit flustered from having fought through the crowd of crazed dance moms. And who just happens to be behind him, ducking out of the way of a mom wielding a tutu like a weapon?
Case.
My cheeks flush, and at first, I think it must be embarrassment that my too-hot-to-handle boss is seeing me in nothing but a leotard and tights. But then I remember he’s seen me in less. Much, much less. It’s the fact that my brother is standing here, totally oblivious, that has my cheeks practically on fire.
“Is this what you had to pick up at the office, Ryd?” I pull a bobby pin from my hair and gesture toward Case with it, a single blond wave falling loose. Maybe if I take my hair down, it will distract from the fact that I’m as red as a tomato.
“Nah, I had to grab my pay stub. But Case and I are gonna drop you off at home and then go catch up over a few beers.”
I swallow the lump in my throat as I head for the stereo to unplug my phone. The thought of Case and Ryder “catching up” makes my stomach do pirouettes. If Ryder had any idea of what exactly has been going on with his supposed best friend, neither of them would make it through half a beer before a punch got thrown. Case will keep his lips zipped for my sake and his, no doubt, but the thought is still enough to put me on the edge of nausea.
“You ready to roll?” Ryder asks. “My car’s parked in the turnaround out front, so we should probably get a move on.”
I look out the window and spot Ryder’s car parked in the middle of the turnaround, completely blocking the pick-up lane.
“That’s not cool, Ryd. You better move that or you’re gonna get a ticket.”
Ryder scoffs. “Where was I supposed to park it? Somewhere in that minivan mosh pit? Hell no.”
“The police station is across the street,” I remind him. “And anyone could spot that asshole move from a mile away. You’ve gotta move it.”
“Fine. But get your stuff packed, all right? I think I recognized more than one of those single moms as customers, and I don’t want to stick around and watch them find out they’re Eskimo sisters.”
I don’t know what that means, but something tells me I don’t want to know, either.
He swings the door open, and we all go slack-jawed at the pink tulle nightmare unfolding before us. I watch a ballet slipper fly through the air like a bottle rocket and hit an innocent mom square in the head. Who knew costume day could be such a war zone?
Despite his lack of religious affiliation, Ryder does the sign of the cross before launching himself into the crowd, pulling the door closed behind him. The instant the door clicks shut, Case opens his mouth for the first time since the two of them arrived.
“I see you got new tights.”
His smug tone is like a bolt of
lightning down my spine.
“What are you doing here?”
“Ryder told you, we’re getting beers. Catching up.”
“You could’ve met him at the bar,” I point out, busying myself with my usual end-of-class duties. Shut off the stereo, fill out the attendance sheet, all the normal stuff, with the brand-new addition of “try not to look at your boss’s dick.”
“What, do you not want to see me?” Case’s voice is suddenly a little guarded, almost defensive.
“Not in front of my brother. Not after the way you were practically undressing me with your eyes at dinner the other night.”
He shrugs, not denying my accusation in the least. “Well, either way, I wanted to see you.”
“What for?”
“What do you mean, what for?” He moves closer until I can feel his body heat. “You know exactly what I want. I want to fuck you again, Sienna.”
His rich, deep voice washes over me, and a restless flutter builds in my chest. “What about your one-time rule?”
Case smirks. “I made the rule. It’s mine to break, if I want to. And I do want to. That is, if you’ll let me.”
The door flings back open and Ryder ducks in, this time with messier hair and panic in his eyes. “I think one of them recognized me. We gotta get the hell out of here.”
My gaze flicks to Case, who looks as calm as ever, despite the conversation Ryder just interrupted. I want to check his jeans for any signs of movement, but I don’t dare pull a stunt like that in front of my brother. Instead, I scoop up my dance bag and push the OFF button on the stereo.
“C’mon. There’s a back entrance through the office.”
Ryder scowls at me. “You couldn’t have told me that before I left to move my car?”
“I could’ve.” I snicker, unlocking the office door. “But it was a lot more fun this way.”
The drive back to the apartment isn’t as awkward as I expected—it’s infinitely worse. Ryder insists that Case gets shotgun since they’re dropping me off, meaning I can’t even put Case and his little proposition in the rearview. Luckily, Ryder is completely oblivious, yammering away about how he and Case should go to the recital together.
Great. As if I’m not already stressed enough about this recital, now it will be just another situation where I have to face Case in front of my brother and try not to look like the heart-eyes emoji.
The boys’ conversation shifts toward their drinking plans for the evening, and I tune them out. I can hardly hear them anyway over all the competing thoughts in my head, trying to out-scream one another.
Do I sleep with Case again? Lord knows I want to. But is it really worth the risk? Or have we already risked enough that one more time won’t matter? It’s like I’ve got an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other, but I’m not sure which is which.
When Ryder rolls up to the apartment, I swear I’ve got one foot out the car door before he even hits the brakes. He lays on the horn as I take off jogging up the walkway. I manage to catch myself before completely wiping out on an uneven crack in the sidewalk.
“Slow down, idiot,” Ryder yells out the window. “Don’t hurt yourself!”
I look over my shoulder and stick my tongue out at him, like we used to do when we were kids. As Ryder gives me a salute good-bye, Case winks at me. That cocky grin nearly knocks me on my ass.
Don’t hurt myself, huh, Ryder? If he only had a clue.
Inside the apartment, I get a bath going, then swing into the kitchen to pour myself a generous glass of red wine. Between the tutu insanity at the studio and that proposition from Case, I definitely earned this.
When I peel off my leotard and tights, all the stress about the recital goes with them. Still, I don’t feel any lighter. I guess the decision to sleep with Case again is weighing on me more than I’d like to admit.
One inch at a time, I sink into the steamy, hot water, the bubbles climbing up to my neck as I hold my glass of wine high for safekeeping. Heavenly. I take a slow sip of wine, enjoying every second of the rich taste before setting down my glass next to the tub and reaching for my phone. I’m going to wash that devil and angel right off my shoulders and call upon my voice of reason instead. Luckily, I’ve got her on speed dial.
Allison picks up on the very first ring. “What’s up, coconut?”
I give her the full Case update—the surprise visit to the studio, the proposition, the wink as I headed back to the apartment. I feel like I’m in high school again, overanalyzing my crush’s every move.
“I’m just so unsure about everything,” I say quickly, annoyed at how much it sounds like I’m gushing. “Is this how a fling is supposed to feel? I don’t know how to do this. There needs to be some kind of rule book for this. Some kind of hookup handbook.”
Allison cackles. “God, I wish. I’d buy out every copy on the shelves.”
But isn’t that basically the book that Case is writing? A bit of my anxiety slips away into the tub at Allison’s words.
“I’m overwhelmed,” I admit. “I really had it in my mind that this would be a one-time thing. But now he wants to do it again?”
“Okay, so that’s what he wants,” Allison says, putting on her best matter-of-fact voice. “But what about you? What do you want, Sienna?”
And the answer hits me harder than a flying ballet slipper to the head.
What I want is Case. Maybe even all of him.
Even though I know he’s completely wrong for me.
Chapter Seventeen
Case
Checking over an email one last time, I hit SEND and glance at the time on my computer. Twelve p.m., right on the dot. Perfect timing.
“I’m heading out for lunch,” I say, standing to stretch my back.
Sienna doesn’t look up from her computer and simply nods while keeping her eyes trained on the screen. “Tell your mom I say hi.”
My lips quirk. “I always forget that you two have met.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t.” She looks up at me then, a smile on her face.
I still can’t quite read where things stand between us, but the smile and the eye contact seem like good signs. Aside from work stuff, we haven’t really talked since I told her I wanted to go another round, and it’s been killing me not to bring it up again. But the last thing I want to do is make her feel pressured into doing something she doesn’t want to do, so at this point, all I can do is wait and hope she’ll come around.
That, and do my best to ignore the constant half chub she gives me simply by existing.
I arrive at the restaurant before my mom does, taking the opportunity to ask the hostess to move us to a table by the windows, my mom’s favorite spot. We’ve made a habit of meeting for lunch every few weeks or so, especially now that there are so many logistics and details to discuss with her new place.
A few minutes after I sit down, my mom arrives, her short, dark, graying hair hanging loosely around her gently lined face. Her mouth twists into a knowing smile when she sees me.
“You didn’t bully the hostess into a table by the windows, did you?”
I stand and give her a hug, a rush of warmth and gratitude washing over me like it does every time I see her. “Bully? No. Charm? Yes. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. But don’t think I don’t notice you changing the subject.”
We sit down, and Mom grins at me.
“Speaking of charming, how’s that little assistant of yours doing? Sienna, right?”
I sigh and rub the back of my neck. Way to cut to the chase, Mom.
Although I shouldn’t be surprised. We’ve always been close and open with each other about these kinds of things. I mean, I run a male escort service. But I haven’t told anyone about what’s really going on with Sienna yet, and in this moment, I’m not even sure where to begin.
“She’s doing well—great, actually. I mean, you saw her. Very capable, fast learner, hard worker. I helped her get a part-time job teaching at a ballet studio a coup
le weeks ago, and she’s been balancing it all so well, I sometimes forget this isn’t her only job.”
My mother nods, watching me closely as I answer. It’s in moments like these I wish we were maybe a little less close. Because no matter how casual I think I’m being, there’s no denying the fact that she can read me like an open book.
“Mm-hmm. And what about your relationship? Considering the fact that the two of you are crammed in that office alone together, day in and day out, surely you’ve gotten close?”
Close is one way to put it.
“Well, like I told you, she’s helping me with my book, so we’ve definitely gotten to know each other pretty well through that.”
Mom nods again, a hesitant look on her face, but before she can press me any further, our server arrives to take our orders. He refills our waters, chatting briefly with my mom about their Friday specials.
I’m grateful for the disruption to our conversation—she was getting dangerously close to putting too many pieces together. But I also know there’s no way she’s going to drop the topic.
“Well, sweetheart, I think this Sienna sounds like a very nice girl, and truthfully, like someone who’s turned out to be a wonderful asset for you.”
“I would agree, she’s been great.”
“And you know, sweetie,” she says, tipping her head to the side and raising her eyebrows, “of course I’m proud of you and everything you’ve worked so hard to build, but you and I both know you can’t go on doing this escorting thing forever.”
Damn it if my mom doesn’t always see right through me. Of course, she can tell that there’s more to my relationship with Sienna than just work. Seeing as my mom is the woman I’ve been the closest to for my entire life, you’d think I’d be a little less surprised when she can tell exactly what I’m feeling—sometimes before even I can.
“I know, Mom. Trust me, I know.”
She gives me a knowing smile and reaches across the table, wrapping her fingers around mine. “I just want you to be happy, Case. And I think it’s time you let yourself be happy too.”
