She didn’t understand, not at all, and I didn’t want to explain it to her. She didn’t understand the depth of my fear of commitment, my fear of love. The way my stomach turned in knots at the thought of losing her, which is why I couldn’t have her in the first place. I didn’t want anyone in my life who had the power to reach into my chest and rip out my heart, and she had that power. Therefore, I didn’t want her anymore.
But I wanted her. Oh God.
I dreamed of her at night, of her body pressing against mine, her urgent little moans and sighs. I told myself I only needed time and distance, and I’d be able to look at her like I looked at other women, as a body to use, as a pretty ornament to decorate my play room on the weekends. Until that time, I had to avoid her. I needed space.
I forced my attention back to my stepmom’s cheerful conversation, and then my dad and I talked about work. I could always distract myself with work. I threw myself into the discussion about recent dramas, new hires, and possible expansion.
“By the way,” said my father, “how is your dancer friend? The one with the security threat?”
“Oh, my,” Abby murmured. “Not Fernando?”
I shook my head and tried to answer in a normal voice. “There was another dancer I met. A woman.”
“She had some problems, I seem to remember,” my dad said. “Did everything turn out all right?”
I couldn’t tell if my father was yanking my chain or making casual conversation. Any mention of Ashleigh and my brain went haywire. I picked apart layers of lasagna.
“Yes, she’s fine. Her, uh, issues have been resolved.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Yes, that’s good,” my stepmom said. “And how is your friend Fernando? I think I read in a City Ballet article that he’s dipping his toes into choreography. That he’s working on an original piece?”
“Yes. Ironically, he’s doing it with that same dancer who was…having some trouble. But she isn’t anymore, so yeah, everything’s fine all around.”
Except me. I’m not fine. I’m in love and I don’t know how to deal with it. I can’t fucking sleep at night and I don’t know if I can survive seeing her again.
I didn’t say that out loud, but my father was studying me with his usual hyper-perception. I avoided his gaze and picked up an asparagus spear, twirling it in front of me. This would pass. All of this would pass. One thing I’d learned through doing BDSM…even the worst pain and agony eventually faded away.
*** *** ***
Rubio snapped his fingers in my face.
“Where are you, girl? Earth to Ash-lee.” He walked over to switch off the rehearsal music, then returned to me, leaning down to peer into my eyes. “You okay? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Then I need you. Focus.” With his accent, “focus” sounded like “fuck us.” I hung my head because he was right, I was out of focus. I was dancing in a haze. “Is now March,” he reminded me. “We debut this in April. That’s next month.”
“I know,” I said, avoiding his concerned gaze. “I know the steps. I just zoned for a minute.”
“Zoned? What is this? I don’t like it.” He put an arm around my head and pretended to choke me, pulling faces. “You feeling sad? Whut? Other dancers still giving you mean looks?”
“No, that’s died down. Everything’s fine, Ruby.” Everything but my aching heart. I forced a smile but I didn’t think he was fooled. Over the course of our deepening partnership, he’d developed a disconcerting ability to read my moods.
“Hey,” he said. “Why don’t you come to the party tomorrow at Liam’s? Relax and have fun.” He let go of my neck and slid a hand down to my boob. “When I get to see you naked? In chains?”
“You are never going to see that,” I said, pushing his paws away.
“You let me whip you? Please? I’ll do it so I don’t draw blood. I’ll just make little marks on your back. Whip kisses.”
“You know what? There is zero chance of that happening.”
He came to stand behind me, making whipping motions and fake “whi-pshhh” sounds.
I talked over him, looking in the mirror. “Hey, does Liam ever say anything to you about me?”
“Say anything? Like what?”
“Just, whatever. Do you guys ever talk about me?”
“Sure,” he said. Then, “No, never.”
I turned to look at him. “Which it it?”
He stood frozen, his imaginary whip mid-crack. “It’s no. No. We never talk about you.”
“Does he talk about other girls?”
Rubio made a face. “I’m not going to do this conversation. I don’t want to be in your drama. We have to rehearse, yeah?” He gripped my waist, hauling me around in a lift we’d practiced approximately a thousand times. He set me down with his mouth by my ear. “I told you to be careful. I warned you.”
I pulled away from him and brushed a hand over my messy bun. “Forget it,” I said. “Me and Liam just had some weirdness between us last time we were together.”
“He put his cock in your asshole, huh?”
“What? No. It’s just… Forget it. It’s cool.”
His expression brightened. “Hey, you know what, Ash-lee? I thought of the name for the ballet.”
“Awesome. What is it?”
“Waking Kiss.”
“Naked Kiss?” I still had trouble with his accent sometimes.
“Waking Kiss,” he said, laughing. “Like to wake up. I get the idea from Sleeping Beauty ballet. You know, that moment when she sleeps in her fancy bed?”
Yes, I knew that moment. I had the fancy bed.
“And the prince comes,” said Rubio. “And when I perform, I wonder what she dream of, you know? And in that moment when she wakes, does the world seem new again? People sleep, Ash-lee. They don’t feel. They don’t understand.” He spread his hands. “Nothing. But sometimes someone comes with a kiss. You know, a real kiss or…a word or an inspiration.” He looked into my eyes, holding my gaze. “Something new to wake them up from a—a long, lonely sleep. Waking Kiss. This ballet is about coming awake again. New beginnings. You think it’s a good idea?”
Coming awake again. He was describing me. I’d been doing a dance about my experiences with Liam and I hadn’t even known it. “We don’t kiss in the ballet,” I said, staring past his shoulder.
He shrugged. “We could add a kiss somewhere. Maybe. Why must it be so literal? Sometimes what wakes you is not a kiss. It is a vision or an action. A feeling.” He leaned down and stared at me with uncharacteristic gravity. “A person you meet, who changes you some way.”
Like Liam Wilder. Memories of his smiles and his warmth flooded me.
“You just don’t want to kiss me,” I teased. If I didn’t tease him I’d start to cry.
“I kiss you, maybe in the first arabesque.” He grabbed me, silly Rubio again. We did the opening combination, but he added a clumsy, cartoonish kiss halfway through.
“Stop,” I said. “Eww. Too much tongue.”
At that he grabbed my face and started licking my cheek and ear while I shrieked for mercy. When I tried to dance away from him he caught me and pulled me off balance. We both went stumbling sideways across the studio, howling with laughter. Then we noticed a third person reflected in the mirror.
Liam stood in the door, my memories made real, only he wasn’t smiling. Rubio let go of me and took a couple steps away.
“I heard you screaming,” Liam said, his eyes fixed on me.
“Heard me screaming from where?”
“Down the hall.”
“I didn’t know you were here.” I looked over at Rubio. He seemed very interested in the floor. “Are you and Ruby headed out together tonight? To party?” I couldn’t quite keep the irritation from my voice.
Liam leaned against the door frame. “I didn’t come here to see him. I was looking for you. So, is that the new ballet you two were rehearsing? It looks pretty ragged to me.?
?
Rubio grinned at him, but it was a forced grin. “We were only playing around. We have to…” He shrugged and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “I think we add a kiss in somewhere. We were practicing.”
“Yes, I saw.”
I narrowed my eyes at Liam. “You’re not jealous, are you? Of a fake ballet kiss?”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Then why are you using that voice?”
He looked at Rubio again and something vicious flitted across his expression, only to be quickly cloaked. “You know what? You two go at it. Have fun.” He turned to leave in a huff, like I was the biggest bitch on earth for rehearsing with my partner. He was the one who couldn’t make time to see me all last week. I took off after him.
“What the fuck?” I asked. “‘You two go at it.’ Really? What are you insinuating?”
He barely turned to me. “I’m not insinuating anything.”
“Me and Rubio are artists. We work together. I never had his slimy lips on me before tonight. Before three minutes ago.”
“Hey!” Rubio trailed us down the hall. We all came to a stop outside his dressing room. “I don’t have slimy lips,” Ruby said, scowling at me. He jabbed a finger at Liam. “And why you care what he thinks, Ash-lee? You’re not a couple.”