by Jayne Frost
“Please. You’re barely thirty.”
“Which means I was in the third grade before you drew a breath.”
His brow pinched as if the idea pained him, so I angled for a change of subject.
“How did you know when to pick me up?”
“Well, see, I’m a man of many talents. Mind-reading being one of them.” I raised a dubious brow and he shrugged. “Fine. I called the car service and told them to check with me before they sent out a driver. We were in the neighborhood laying down tracks at Phoenix Souls, so I thought I’d surprise you.” Sliding his hand between the seat and my ass, he gave me a squeeze. “So, are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Surprised.”
He took my lips in a chaste kiss that quickly developed into something more.
“What about Blake?” I said, tipping back before he could dive in again.
“He can get his own girl.” Groaning in frustration when I gave him a nudge, Miles flopped against the seat. “Okay, okay. I’ll wait until we drop the little cock-blocker off.”
I laced our fingers when he started to pout. “Tell me about the studio. What did you record?”
“Bits and pieces. Not quite a song yet. But if we manage to get it finished, you’ll get a writing credit. And royalties if it sells.”
“Me?” I spluttered. “Why?”
“The poem you wrote—the one you left me on the pillow? It’s the hook for the track we’re working on.”
I waited a beat to see if he broke out in laughter. Because, surely this was a joke. My poem? It had taken all my courage just to show it to him.
Besides dancing, writing was my only passion, but I had no illusions. I’d only taken the minimum number of required classes to satisfy the school board so I could get my diploma. And that wasn’t saying much. Texas was lenient.
I’d inquired about taking an English class at the junior college, only to be informed that I’d need to take a lengthy placement exam. Sure that they’d see right through my shoddy education and laugh me out of the building, I’d never pursued it.
“Where’d you go?” Miles asked, concern digging a crease between his brows. “Listen, if you don’t want us to use your lyrics—”
A light chuckle parted my lips. “It’s not that. I’m just surprised.”
“Why?”
I hated explaining this stuff, but still, I kept my chin high. “I told you. With my dancing, there wasn’t much time to study. I did the bare minimum to graduate.”
Miles plucked a book from my tote and glanced over the cover. “Yet you read Dostoevsky for kicks?”
I reached for the paperback. “Don’t make fun.”
“I’m not. Why would you think that?”
My cheeks went up in flames. “Ivan…he said The Brothers Karamazov was required high school reading.”
Shaking his head, Miles sighed long and hard. “I’m pretty sure they don’t teach Russian literature until college. At least not around here. You’re more advanced than you think, baby.”
While I fingered the worn edge of my book, Miles looked out the window to where Blake was chatting up some girls outside the restaurant,
“When does he complete his program?” I asked. “I mean, don’t most rehabs only last thirty days?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
Our eyes met, but his expression was one I’d never seen. Not just blank. But shuttered. Walled off. I was about to press the issue when the car door swung open.
Blake tossed the greasy bag onto the seat and followed it in.
“About time,” Miles said, his gaze flicking to the window where the girls were eyeing the SUV. “I don’t need you drawing that kind of attention. Have some respect.”
Blake sank against the leather, while I made a grab for the burgers, aiming for a distraction. “I’m starving. Did you get fries?.”
I could count on one hand how many times I’d eaten junk food in the last year, but still, I dove in like a woman possessed. When I looked up, Blake was fidgeting with the sleeves on his hoodie and scowling at Miles.
“Telling tales, bro?” he asked and then chuckled darkly. “We all fall down—remember that. You ain’t special just ’cause you’ve got your shit together for the moment. We both know that could change.”
My heart pounded against my ribs while I waited for Miles to defend himself. To tell Blake that his drinking days were behind him. But he didn’t.
Instead, he shifted his focus to the passing scenery, ignoring everything else for the rest of the drive.
As soon as the car rolled to a stop in the driveway, Miles grabbed his backpack and the greasy bag of fast food and hopped out without a backward glance.
Meeting the driver’s sympathetic gaze in the rearview mirror, I offered a tight-lipped smile.
“Thanks, Cody. See you next time.”
Shouldering my gym bag, I got out of the SUV and started for the house. The front door was ajar, a sliver of light spilling onto the porch. Not really an invitation. More like an afterthought.
Is that what I was?
A screw tightened in my chest, preventing any forward progress. If Miles needed a night to himself, I’d let him have it. No questions asked.
Heaving a sigh, I changed my course and headed for the pool house. Fatigue set in as I pushed my way through the door. Dropping my bag onto the bed, I kicked off my sandals and shuffled to the bathroom.
After setting the water temperature in the shower, I peeled off my clothes and stepped inside. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath as I tugged my hair free of the tight bun.
My heart slammed against my ribs when a rush of air whispered over my skin. Scrambling out from under the jets, I pressed my back against the stone wall.
Miles stood at the threshold where the marble met the tile, staring at me through the fine mist of steam.
“Miles!” I sucked in a surprised breath. “You scared me to—”
“Why didn’t you come in the house?”
Swallowing hard, I blinked the water out of my eyes. “You stopped talking to me almost an hour ago. I thought you wanted to be alone.”
He took a step, and one of the jets hit him square in the shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice. “No, baby. I don’t want to be alone.”
His brows crashed together, and he frowned like he’d just admitted to something awful.
“I didn’t know what to think.” Shifting my feet, I dug my fingers into the stone pebbles on the wall. “I didn’t want to force my company on you.”
My voice sounded as hollow as my excuse. And I wondered if he could see right through me.
Closing the small gap, Miles curved a hand around my hip, and warmth spread to every limb. “Why would you ever think that?”
“I don’t know.”
But I did.
People left. Checked out. Tossed you aside. As strong as I was, I couldn’t face another rejection. Even a small one. Not from Miles.
His palm skimmed up my arm, coming to rest on my nape. Tilting my chin with his thumb, he coaxed my gaze to his. “I didn’t mean to shut you out. It was a long day. And I had a lot going on.”
I nodded, embarrassed. “Okay. I just…I don’t know what we are, Miles. Or what this is. Where the boundaries are.”
He touched his forehead to mine. “What do you want it to be?”
I watched the water trail down his cheeks and over his dimple.
“Enough,” I finally admitted. “I want it to be enough.”
Smiling, he reached behind his back and tugged the T-shirt over his head. “It’s more than enough.”
My eager fingers found the button on his jeans, but he stopped me before I reached the zipper. “I got an offer today,” he said, pressing a little closer.
The crease between his brow gave me pause, but I managed a light smile. “What kind of offer?”
“Jimmy Fallon. The Tonight Show.”
The butterflies in my stomach moved north on ho
peful wings. “Isn’t that in New York?” He nodded. “When?”
“Same time you’re going to be there. We could go together if you want.”
Our eyes met, and he smiled a shy smile that I knew I’d remember always. Framing his face with my hands, I traced the curve of his lips with my thumb. And then I kissed him. “I want.”
Miles
Over the next week, I tried to pretend things were okay. That Gelsey and I weren’t heading off to the place that would tear us apart forever. I even managed to convince her—I think. But not myself. In the small moments between, like now, my mind went there.
From the second-floor gallery overlooking the studio, I watched Gelsey execute a flawless arabesque. And yes, I knew the names of all the moves. Because every morning when she went down to the gym to run through her routine, I tagged along.
It was the closest thing to perfection I’d ever seen—the way Gelsey moved.
Actual perfection?
Anytime she spoke. I wanted to spend the rest of my life in that conversation.
Gelsey’s gaze found mine as she got back into position, and she graced me with a smile.
“She is lovely, yes?”
Whipping my head around to the voice, I met glacial blue eyes and sharp cheekbones. Ivan. We’d never been formally introduced, but his photos hung on the wall in every studio. In his sweats and basic black T-shirt with his blond hair curling over his collar, he looked far too young to be the founder and director. But there was an air of surety about him that was unmistakable.
“She is,” I said, offering my hand as he took a seat beside me. “I’m Miles.”
His fingers closed around mine in a vise-like grip. “Ivan Volkov.”
Gelsey completed another series of moves, but this time when she looked up to the gallery, she froze. Ivan waited until he had her full attention to make a twirling motion with his finger, but she didn’t budge.
After several seconds, he sighed and gave her a small nod. I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, or what silent promise she’d extracted, but she went back to work.
Once the music started again, Ivan turned to me and said bluntly, “She is very taken with you. Is the feeling mutual?”
The standard “we’re just friends” fought its way to my lips. It wasn’t a lie. And if Ivan were just her coach, I could probably get away with it. But, I didn’t even try.
“Very mutual.”
He searched my face for a long moment before turning back to Gelsey. And the adoration in his eyes. He masked it well when she happened to glance our way, but it was there.
When he didn’t speak, I thought our chat might be over. But then he said quietly, “This life is not what I wanted for her. Too many sacrifices. I tried to…” A heavy sigh parted his lips. “I did not make things easy. Not because she does not have the talent. But because it takes more than that.”
With every word, I felt the water rising, like a wave pulling me away from the shore. It’d be easier if he just told me to fuck off and stay away from her. Then I could ignore him. Stake a claim. But this…
“What do you mean?” I managed.
“Gelsey has worked hard. But the people holding the bar by which she is being judged do not understand that. They see only the advantages. She is the granddaughter of a renowned teacher and the daughter of a great dancer.” His smiled turned wry. “Not to mention, the protégé of another. All Russian.”
“And that makes a difference?”
He inhaled slowly and nodded. “All the difference. But even with that, she will face problems. She is an American who will be judged by Russian standards. We are the best. I say that not to be arrogant, but because it is true. She will need the support of the members of her dance corp. But she will not fit in easily. That is what I wanted to protect her from. Here, I can do that. But in New York, I would only make it worse.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Gelsey must earn her way into the group. They will make or break her career. She will stand on their shoulders to achieve greatness. But only if they let her. She must eat with them and sleep with them, not in some penthouse apartment with her rich, rock star boyfriend.”
His blue eyes turned knowing, like he could sense what I hadn’t even admitted to myself. That I didn’t want to give Gelsey up. And why should I? I could make a life with her in New York. And still keep a foothold here. Money gave me that option.
He smiled, but there was no joy in it. “I see the wheels turning. But I warn you now, do not push this. She will end up resenting you.”
I didn’t acknowledge him one way or the other. Whatever happened between Gelsey and me was between us. And I still wasn’t convinced he was right. About any of it.
Ivan pushed to his feet, offering his hand again. Reluctantly, I took it. But I wasn’t agreeing to shit. And maybe he knew that, because instead of releasing me, he tightened his grip. “A bird and fish can fall in love,” he said with a shrug. “But where will they live? That is the question. Have a good trip, Miles.”
His gaze flicked to the dance floor where Gelsey was just finishing her routine. Her eyes met his briefly before bouncing to mine. One look into those baby blues and my good intentions, if I’d had any, fell away.
“Ready?” I mouthed, not even sure what I was asking.
She smiled wide with no hesitation. “Yes.”
Miles
At thirty thousand feet, it all made sense. Gelsey and me. My music. Her dancing. I could see our future written in the sky, the promise twinkling in a million tiny stars.
Nothing seemed impossible with her pressed to my side, her cheek resting on my arm.
She’d fallen asleep before we’d even reached our cruising altitude. I’d thought briefly about carrying her to the bed in the back of the Gulfstream. But she needed her rest. And I knew if I got her between the sheets I’d never be able to keep my hands to myself. Besides, if things worked out the way I wanted, we’d have plenty of time to join the mile-high club.
The phone vibrated with yet another text from Blake as I was putting the finishing touches on the origami Gerbera I wanted to present to Gelsey when she woke up.
The kid was getting on my nerves with his endless barrage of messages. Usually, he wasn’t needy. More like fiercely independent. But not tonight.
Tipping forward, I read the latest.
Nothing feels right. I’m…off.
That sentence described every single musician at this stage of the game. Doubt always crept in right before it all came together.
The songs for Blake’s debut EP were recorded. But by no means finished. I had the raw tracks with me, and once I got back, I’d do the whole spit and polish. He just needed to calm the fuck down and trust me.
I shot off a reply.
It’s the middle of the night. Get some sleep. It’s all good.
Maybe it sounded a little terse. Patronizing, even. But if I elaborated, the kid would just continue to spin. Read things into it that weren’t there. Short and sweet was the way to go.
I stowed my phone in my backpack so I wouldn’t get distracted again. One glance out the window at the rapidly approaching dawn, and I forced my fingers to move faster, folding and unfolding the sheet of paper. Normally I’d be more precise with the creases, but there was no need. Not for what I had in mind.
Gelsey stirred at the exact moment I laid the flower on the tray in front of her.
A faint glow had just begun to paint the horizon, and we were trapped in that magical place between night and day.
I feigned interest in the clouds as I watched Gelsey’s reflection in the glass. The way her lips curved as she picked up the flower. She didn’t care that we were on a private jet. And she hadn’t even asked where we were staying once we arrived in New York. Those details didn’t matter to her. She loved beautiful, worthless things.
The way I did.
The way my father had.
For a moment, I let the anger surrounding my memory of him fal
l away. A deep regret took its place when I imagined what he would’ve thought of Gelsey. Because I knew. He would’ve loved her.
“Open it,” I said when she’d finished examining every fold.
Blue eyes met mine in the glass, and she smiled. “I don’t want to ruin it.”
I turned to face her, sinking a little lower in the seat. “You won’t.”
The look she gave me was priceless. Intrigued, but unsure. With a deft touch, she gently pried apart the paper, one fold at a time. I wanted to rip it out of her hands to speed things along. The suspense was killing me.
Once she’d finished, she smoothed the creases, her brows diving together as she studied the images.
Lifting her gaze to mine, she said quietly, “I don’t understand.”
That look told me she’d already jumped to the right conclusion, but she didn’t want to put it out there.
So I did.
Taking the paper from her hand, I glanced over the photos of the SoHo apartment I’d made arrangements to look at. “I think you do. My question is, what do you think of it?”
One beat turned into three, then five as she blinked at me. I’d vowed not to oversell this, but apparently some explanation was in order.
I took her hand, and she immediately laced our fingers. Good sign.
“Ivan told me that in order to make it at your new dance company, you couldn’t live in your boyfriend’s Fifth Avenue apartment.” I sighed. “But there’s only so much you can do if you’re me. I can’t exactly move into some place that doesn’t have security. I could give a shit, but it would put you at risk. Do you understand?”
She nodded, but the knot twisting her brow told me she still didn’t get it. Either that or she needed the words.
Of course, she needs the words, dumb fuck.
“I want to be with you, Gelsey. In Austin, or in New York. Or wherever you go.”
Any other woman, and I’d know what kind of response to expect. Surprise, followed by elation. But with Gelsey I wasn’t sure.
Her tongue peeked out, touching the corner of her lip as her focus returned to the page. “So you want us to live together? Here?”
