“You weren’t sure?” Frankie took back her crutches when Finn handed them to her but held them instead of hooking them under her arms. “Are you crazy? I’d love to see a show like that. Plus, it’s your sister. You have to go.”
“Spoken just like she would.” Teddy chuckled.
“It’ll be so cool.” Frankie continued toward the door, holding her crutches instead of using them. Teddy had never seen her do that before. She moved slowly, but she was doing it, bolstered after dancing. “I’ve always wanted to see a real ballet.”
“You’ve never seen one in person?”
“Sleepy little beach towns like this one don’t have that much culture.” She paused to pull a vibrating cell phone from her pocket. “Oh shoot, Mom’s wondering why I’m five minutes late. Better go. Have fun, Mouse King!” She waved, finally making use of her crutches so she could hurry, though Teddy wondered if she needed them.
Left alone in the workout room, he turned to see Finn leaning against the wall near the row of mirrors, arms crossed and wearing a fond smile. “Isn’t he the villain of the story?”
“The role I was born for,” Teddy said, sauntering over.
“I don’t know about that.” Finn tilted his head, waiting for Teddy to come closer, then leaned forward to kiss his cheek.
A shiver shot through Teddy when Finn didn’t pull away but shifted so that his lips were better aligned to reach Teddy’s mouth. He kissed him there, too, and it was easy to sink into the feeling, reminding Teddy of his fantasy in this very room, near these very mirrors, of Finn putting his hands on him. Teddy was tempted to reach for Finn’s hands now and guide them to the waistband of his sweats.
Then the door opened and one of the therapists Teddy wasn’t as familiar with came in with an older gentleman. They had just enough time, being behind the door, to pull apart before anyone called them out for indecent behavior. Even if there weren’t rules against them dating, Teddy had a feeling that being caught fooling around in the workout room wouldn’t be looked on kindly.
They left, and Finn went into the back to change, while Teddy headed for the waiting room. Meagan and Carlos were both up front by Betsy.
“Hey, Teddy!” Carlos greeted. “Erina’s show is going really well, huh?”
That would have quirked an eyebrow usually, but Teddy wasn’t that surprised. “She’s making good use of your phone number, I see.”
The darker tint to Carlos’s skin still managed an impressive blush.
“What are you and Finn up to tonight?” Meagan asked.
Teddy leaned on the front counter since no one else was waiting. “Long walks on the beach aren’t much of an option for me right now, so we’re planning on a night in.”
“Oh yeah?” Carlos waggled an eyebrow, then blanched slightly when Betsy cleared her throat. “Anyway, you know what you should watch if you Netflix and chill? If it includes Netflix,” he said in an unconvincing whisper that made Betsy roll her eyes. “Wet Hot American Summer. The movie, not the prequel series, though that has its moments too.”
“I’ve never seen that,” Teddy said.
“Neither has Finn!”
“Carlos,” Meagan said skeptically, “that movie is nothing but raunchy, stupid humor.”
“Sounds perfect,” Finn said, drawing Teddy’s attention to the door.
A few insecurities still reared their heads at Teddy, thinking of what a schlub he must look like when Finn dared to come out of the locker room so sinfully sexy in low-riding jeans and a short-sleeved shirt that hugged his biceps.
“Ready to go?”
TEDDY changed when they reached the house. He had to. He didn’t shower, he hadn’t worked up that much of a sweat, but he still freshened up and put on his best pair of easy-fitting jeans and a gray sweater.
“You know we live at the beach, right?” Finn teased him when he reappeared.
“It’s still spring, and I keep my home cold.”
“I noticed. Good thing Smudge doesn’t mind, do you, fluffy boy?” Finn bent to scratch Smudge’s head, who was very happy to have him back again—and to have Nora in the house, since they’d stopped to pick her up. “So.” Finn stood, following Teddy into the kitchen. “What are we making for dinner?”
“Pot stickers and rice. I have a recipe I haven’t made in a while that is much easier with an extra pair of hands.”
Given Teddy’s recent debacle with chopping, he let Finn handle the vegetables while he mixed the meat and made the sauce. They pinched the dough for the pot stickers together when they were ready to assemble, then got everything frying, the rice already fluffed.
It smelled incredible, and Teddy could tell Finn was eager to taste the creation. He was probably the type who could eat anything and never gain a pound.
Unlike Teddy, who didn’t need something this rich when he should be watching his diet. He’d always had to be strict with himself to stay fit, which had been easier as a dancer, always moving, but now….
Teddy frowned at getting up in his head again. Why was he doing that, distracted and feeling sorry for himself right when he had something good in his grasp?
“Something wrong?” Finn asked, since Teddy was supposed to be flipping the pot stickers for the final simmer, but he’d stopped.
“Sorry. It’s not you. Not this. This”—he gestured between them, at Finn being there, and even had to glance into the living room at Smudge and Nora playing—“this is really good. It’s just me.”
“Erina’s show? Your hip?”
“All of the above.” Teddy finished flipping the pot stickers and turned down the burner. “I guess a bad day is hard to shake. I know you know that, but I’m still sorry. I don’t want you feeling guilty about the other night. You needed it, more than I have any right to complain about being a little sore and sorry for myself.”
“That’s not fair.” Finn moved to stand closer to him. “One person’s pain isn’t more valid than another’s. You just need to recapture what you lost.”
“That’s what I can’t do. You’re helping me recover, and that’s great, but you can’t help me dance again.”
“What would you call earlier with Frankie?”
“A ball change and a box step are not the level I was used to. You can’t turn back time for me.”
“No, I can’t,” Finn said, leaning against the island parallel to Teddy. “It sucks, and it’s going to suck for a long time. In fact, it might always suck because dance is always going to be something you love and miss and can’t do anymore the way you used to.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it.” Teddy swallowed through a thickening in his throat.
“Do you want me to sugarcoat it? I could tell you it’s going to get easier and better, but that might not be true. What I can do is help you figure out what you want the next chapter of your life to be.”
“Is that part of your physical therapy degree?” Teddy snorted.
“Sometimes. Do you want to know why I’m a physical therapist? Because it has nothing to do with liking physical therapy.”
“I thought… because of your father,” Teddy said, glad that this time, Finn’s expression didn’t darken quite as much at the mention.
“That was part of it, but I do what I do because I like people. I like helping someone realize something about themselves they didn’t believe was possible, surpass insurmountable odds, even if all that means is getting across a room a little easier—or doing a ball change.” He grinned. “I foster pets for the same reason. Because I love seeing the joy on someone’s face when they get paired with the perfect cat or dog. That joy, those brief but important moments, they’re why I do what I do.
“What was it for you?”
“Huh?” Teddy startled at the question.
“What made you love dancing?” Finn restated.
“Oh. I guess….” Teddy unfocused his gaze, trying to think of the answer, and ended up closing his eyes as he recalled the last time he’d truly danced and lost himself in the movement
. “Those moments when everything else faded away and it was just me and the motion.”
Finn’s silence made Teddy open his eyes, finding him smiling. “And what made you love it when you were showing someone else?”
“I didn’t always love that,” Teddy admitted, “but I suppose… getting one of them to find that moment, too, seeing it on their faces, in their body, until there was nothing but the dance.”
“You can still have that,” Finn said.
“Frankie—”
“For more than just Frankie.”
Teddy turned to poke at the pot stickers so none of them stuck to the pan but glanced back over his shoulder. “How? I can’t teach if I can’t show.”
“Says who? Teach me something.” Finn pushed from the island. “Right now. Something more complicated than what you taught Frankie, without showing me what to do.”
“What?” That was impossible.
“I mean it,” Finn said, grabbing Teddy by the hand and pulling him from the kitchen to the open area beside the sofa. “Talk me through it, something doable but more involved than earlier that you wouldn’t be able to show me anyway because of your hip. I warn you, though, I’ve been told I have two left feet, ball change and box step notwithstanding.”
“Finn.” Teddy chuckled again, charmed by this incredible man but still certain they couldn’t do this without looking like idiots.
“Come on. Teach me.” That grin that had an edge of sadness behind it was still genuine and hopeful and so damn beautiful that it got the better of Teddy again.
“Fine, then we’ll work on your attitude.”
“What?” Finn giggled.
“You want to be one of my students?” Teddy said sternly. “Learn the terms and fix your posture.”
Finn snapped to attention immediately.
“Better. We’ll try front, back, and a turn. If you can’t do that, it’s hopeless.” Teddy looked Finn in the eyes seriously, impressed that Finn had taken on a serious visage as well, but he still had to tease, “When I say attitude, I do not mean your annoyingly optimistic outlook on life.”
That broke Finn’s reserve with a snicker, relaxing him again, but he also smartly straightened his stance afterward.
Teddy’s instincts were to lift his own leg to demonstrate what he wanted Finn to do, but that would hurt, at least be sore and not the best position for his healing hip, so he had to improvise and think of how to explain something he couldn’t show.
“We need to back up.” He grabbed Finn when he made to back up physically. “In the lesson. First, you need to learn how to plié.”
Attitude was the simple lift of the leg, either front or back with a bend at the knee and strong rotation at the hip to bring the leg waist level or higher. Every action in ballet required the right springboard momentum, one movement leading into another to make the dance. Attitude was easier starting from a plié.
Teddy explained all that, and every time he wanted to show something, he had to think of the words instead. How Finn needed to bend, curve his leg, lift, straighten, curl his spine. He took direction quite well, though, which Teddy tried not to think about with too much distraction.
Finn’s long legs made him an ideal dancer, the perfect specimen—but his coordination sucked, absolutely laughable. Even if Teddy had been able to show the moves, it would have taken him twice as long to teach Finn something that should have been easy.
Yet he didn’t find himself growing frustrated. Like with Frankie, he could see in Finn someone who honestly wanted to learn—maybe more so for Teddy’s sake—but it made him not want to give up either.
Plié, attitude lift forward, down, plié, attitude lift back, swing forward to step, step, step into an attitude turn, and plié to finish. Elegant and direct.
When Finn finally managed it without falling into Teddy’s arms or flailing back toward the sofa, it had been over half an hour. Only when noticing the clock did Teddy realize how hungry he was, but Finn, two left feet and all, had completed the moves like a pro.
“Still a terrible influence,” Teddy said when they were finally digging into their pot stickers, eating at the coffee table to watch the movie. “These should not have had to be warmed up in the microwave.”
“They still taste good.”
They did, but Teddy kind of wanted to push Finn over onto the cushions for how much he was grinning in triumph.
“See,” Finn said smugly, “it took longer, but you did it, and you can do it again.”
“Nice thought, but the city’s ballet company won’t accept that sort of teaching.”
“So teach around here. You know, I have a class I teach on calisthenics for people without full range of motion with the perfect candidates.”
“Like wheelchair bound, missing limbs…?” Teddy trailed off skeptically.
“Leprosy, things like that.”
“Funny.”
“You’re the one making it out to be something worth feeling shame over.”
“I don’t mean them.” Teddy felt the twinge of guilt he deserved for that, picking at his food. “I just hate feeling like an invalid.”
“Pretty sure most of my class would punch you in the nuts for calling them invalids.” Finn smiled brightly, making Teddy laugh again. “They’d also appreciate learning something new.”
He was so insistent, so amazingly positive when trying to help someone else, even though he wasn’t always successful at inspiring himself.
We are our own worst critics, Teddy thought, always.
“How do I teach people how to dance who can’t dance?”
“Same way you taught me and Frankie. You try, and no matter how many times you fail, you keep trying.”
“Is that a pact?” Teddy grinned at Finn wryly. “To not let either of us get so frustrated or afraid that we stop trying?”
The sadness peeked through Finn’s expression again, mostly because he seemed surprised, but then he warmed, smiling and raising his glass of wine, a red this time, and Teddy did the same. “I’ll drink to that.”
They clinked.
“You might be onto something with the teaching,” Teddy admitted after a pleasant sip, “but right now, I’m hungry and sore and ready for relaxation via a stupid, raunchy movie.” He indicated Wet Hot American Summer on his Netflix screen. “How about my life path waits until later?”
“You’re sore?” Finn asked with a playful side-eye. “Maybe after we eat, you’ll finally let me offer my massage skills.”
Teddy was not about to say no to that.
They started the movie, and after they’d cleaned their plates and set them in the sink, Finn had him lie on his front on the sofa while he sat poised on the edge and began massaging his calves. Not the sexiest of body parts, but then, Finn had still had Teddy strip off his jeans.
“It helps prevent blood clots,” Finn said, ever the professional, even as he paused to laugh at the film.
Teddy was more interested in the movement of Finn’s hands than what they were watching. Even Smudge and Nora had settled down, and he simply wanted to enjoy this.
“Then there’s potential scar tissue to loosen up or areas of overcontraction. Like hamstrings.” Finn massaged up the back of Teddy’s legs. “Quads.” He moved to the front, slipping between Teddy’s thighs and the cushion. “Really anywhere that might be hyper-toned to protect you while healing.” Then, careful around the incision site from surgery, he moved back around to massage Teddy’s glutes.
“Hyper-toned, is it?” Teddy sighed into the feeling of Finn’s hands on his ass.
“Feels like it to me.”
Maybe he wasn’t being too professional right now.
Finn worked back down Teddy’s hamstrings, down his calves and up again, around once more to the quads so Teddy had to raise his hips to give him better access, and then slid one hand around his inner thigh and up between his legs.
Teddy was already hard, had been for about five minutes, but it wasn’t as if Finn wasn’t f
inding exactly what he was looking for.
“Feel like turning over?” Finn whispered.
Mourning the loss of Finn’s fingers as soon as they retracted, Teddy shifted swiftly to lie on his back. “Taking advantage of your patient, Doc?” he teased when Finn reached again to palm him through his underwear, tracing down his length.
“Just checking all pertinent areas for injury,” Finn teased back, lifting Teddy’s bandaged thumb with his other hand. “Like this. You poor thing. Pretty clumsy for someone so graceful.”
“Asshole.”
“Now, now, I thought we agreed the asshole was you.”
Teddy could only half chuckle, breath catching and speeding up as Finn squeezed and started to stroke him more rhythmically. Teddy’s thumb he handled with gentler care.
“Mmm, maybe I should check the other one, just to be sure you haven’t hurt that one too.” He set Teddy’s hand down and took up the other, bringing the wound-free thumb to his lips and sucking it into his mouth.
Teddy moaned, hips starting to arch into Finn’s touch with his muscles tightening.
Which caused him to hiss at a spike of pain, not as bad as a few weeks ago, but still aggravating.
“I got you,” Finn said quietly, the movie mostly forgotten now. “You just need to relax. Who better to know ways around your injury than your physical therapist?” His grin was devious as he licked around Teddy’s thumb and then moved to suck down the next finger, eventually releasing it with a lewd pop. “I have some ideas. We don’t have to rush. How about tonight, I make this really easy on you?”
Setting Teddy’s hand down again, Finn paused his strokes to reach for the waistband of Teddy’s shorts. Teddy lifted to accommodate, happy to allow Finn to slide them down his legs. Finn pushed up his shirt a little, too, stirring that unfair voice of insecurity in Teddy’s mind to remind him of the pudge there, not terrible, but not the flat expanse of muscle he used to have.
He instinctively sucked in his stomach at Finn’s touch but felt silly when Finn fluttered his fingers with an expression of undiluted want, not seeming to see anything he didn’t like. His other hand curled around Teddy’s base, lips parting at his descent to suck Teddy down like he’d done to his finger.
Interpretive Hearts Page 11
