by Emilia Finn
We have lockers in here, much like the kind at the gym. I yank mine open and locate my gym bag. There are showers lining the back wall, but there’s no way I can shower and clean myself up in a way that, one, won’t be noticed and mocked by Chuck, and two, would be fast enough that shit doesn’t get worse for me out there.
Call me a pessimist, but I suspect Chuck isn’t doing me any favors right now. Either he’s telling Lucy that I’m a pussy, and cracking jokes about cereal choices – because, hell, he’s single, and he’s already said she’s beautiful – or he’ll be encouraging her little plans to send me insane, telling her to shake her ass or wear higher heels to get my attention.
I switch out my jeans for a pair of knee-length basketball shorts, swap my stained shirt for a clean tank and hoodie, and toss my boots into my bag in favor of sneakers. I drop my cap on my head, tuck back my too-long hair, and zip my bag up again before more than three minutes have passed.
I swing my bag over my shoulder and race back into the hall to find Lucy sitting on the little stool she was standing on a few minutes ago. But now it’s located right next to Chuck’s seat. Her legs are right there, so fucking exposed it makes me stabby, but the worst part is, she throws her head back and laughs at some bullshit he talks to her about.
They make a cute pair, sitting beside the gutted bike, but just like she and I, they’re opposites. She has the clean yoga pants that fit like skin, and he wears stained jeans. She wears sneakers, he wears scuffed boots. She wears a perfectly-styled bun – because in her spare time, she’s a ballerina – and he has messy hair from running greasy fingers through it all day long.
Is that what we look like when we’re together? I wonder. Rough and dirty, and prim and proper. Large, imposing, and clumsy, to her delicate perfection.
Seeing them joke and laugh doesn’t hurt my heart nearly as much as seeing their contrasts do. Because I’m him, I look as dirty as he does, and just because she looks like she’s enjoying it, doesn’t mean it’s the way it’s supposed to be.
She’s probably supposed to be dating a banker. A businessman. Hell, maybe even a dancer just like Rudy. But instead, she likes to torment me.
“I’m ready.” Slower now, I wander through the car lifts and over to a loose lug nut that Deck sent flying earlier. Stopping behind the three of them, I reach down and take her hand.
My move surprises her, brings her eyes around with a fast snap, but her lips pull into a pleased grin as I slowly pull her up and away from the guy that definitely likes her legs.
“Let’s go.”
“Okay. Come on, Deck.” She taps her thigh, and brings the dog up like he was zapped from electricity. From asleep to crazy, he knocks the cylinder block over so that metal pieces noisily slam against the floor. “Shit, Chuck. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He turns to Deck, and though he remains seated, and therefore, not taller, he still lifts a brow and makes the dog calm. “Chill the fuck out, Gigantor. Sit.” He stares, stares, stares so hard while the dog looks into his eyes and considers whether he’ll obey or not.
But then Deck drops and lets his tongue loll out the side, as though impressed with himself.
“How do you do that?” Lucy asks in awe. “He doesn’t sit at home.”
“You have to be the alpha.” Chuck lifts a hand, slowly, enchantingly, and draws Deck’s eyes. Then he lowers it and compels the dog to lay on his stomach. “You have to be calm, quiet, commanding.” He pats Deck’s ears for doing as he’s told. “You need to find yourself a dog trainer, teach him. He wants to learn, he wants to please his human. You just gotta know how to make him do it.”
“We’ve only ever had one dog.” Lucy’s eyes lose some of the excitement from a moment ago, to be replaced by sadness. “Annie came with her own Harvard degree, I’m certain. She’s crazy smart, so we didn’t even have to teach her.”
Chuck’s eyes study Lucy. “Why the sad face?”
“She’s…” She clears her throat. “Annie’s old. Really old.”
“Ah, bummer.” Pushing off the ground, unfolding his long legs and stretching his chest wide, Chuck stands over Lucy and makes her hand tighten in mine when he folds all the way out. “Circle of life and all that. It sucks when your dog is the best, but they don’t last as long as us.”
“She’s my uncle’s dog.” Finally, she shakes off some of the gloom, and pats Deck’s ears when he leans against her leg. “It’ll be okay. At least we know it’s coming. Come on.” She tugs my hand and leads me back toward the SUV I was working on, around the side, and through the heavy steel doors we roll down at the end of the day. “Catch ya later, Chuck. Good chat.”
“See ya, Bean. Bye, Deck. Be a good boy.”
And yet, the two-hundred-pound idiot prances around the parking lot like he’s got springs on his feet and sugar in his belly.
“Where’s your car?” I glance past mine, past Chuck’s bike, and then into the street when I don’t find the hatchback. “Did you walk here?”
She walks straight to the ‘Cuda with a smile and opens the door. “Come on, Deck.” She slaps her thigh and sends the dog crazy, sprinting toward the small car and slamming in so fast that the whole frame moves. “I was at the gym when Smalls brought Cass and the puppies in. She said they’re shitting all over the yard and sending her crazy. Ben’s getting cranky, and the puppies are eating so much they’re sending him broke.”
She slides into the car and laughs. “His words, though I’m certain it was a lie. So she wanted to get them out of the house for a bit. Deck likes me, so when I said I was heading out, I guess he decided he was too.”
I climb into my side of the car, and stop when I find the giant dog making out with the side of her face from the backseat.
Her bubbling giggles make my stomach dip, but it’s the good kind of dip. The kind that makes me nervous and jittery, but the good kind. The invigorating kind. The kind that tempts me to make bad choices that feel so fucking good in the moment.
“So you rode him over here?”
She laughingly tries to shove him back. “I probably could have, if I’d thought of it. Mostly he ran ahead of me, and I had to shout at him to get off the damn road before he causes an accident.”
“It’s freezing out.” I start the engine, and crank the heating up. “Not worried about catching a cold?”
“Cold weather doesn’t cause colds, dummy.” She rolls her eyes and fixes her seatbelt. “Cold wind doesn’t cause colds. Wet hair doesn’t cause colds. You know better.”
Pushing the ‘Cuda into reverse, I back away from the garage and laugh when Deck decides he’d like to tongue-fuck my ear.
“Still, you shouldn’t walk around in December in thin yoga pants. You especially shouldn’t sit giggling with my colleague while wearing yoga pants.”
She snorts. “Jealousy is so sexy.” To hurt me, or maybe because she’s that comfortable in my presence, she lifts her feet to the dash and slides a hand along her thigh. “I’m not that cold, and since I was working out all day, and intend to be sweating again twenty minutes from now, I figured the walk would keep me warm enough, and I wouldn’t have to cart my shit around unnecessarily.”
“Do you have a leash for Deck?”
She looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “You don’t put Deck on a lead, Mac Blair. Deck leads us.”
“Deck is the mentally defunct runt of the litter. You had to go and make friends with the stupid one.”
“He’s not stupid.” Glowering, she reaches up and pats his floppy ears as he lays his head on her shoulder. “He’s energetic, he’s silly, and I suspect he’s smarter than any of us realize. You saw him sit and lay down for Chuck.”
“So he’s an overly smart, massive dog, that suffers a nasty case of ADHD? That’s the one you chose?”
She stares right into my fucking eyes as we slow at the traffic light. “Kinda reminds me of you. Silly and too full of energy. Doesn’t mean you’re not worthy.”
I turn back to s
tudy the red light, but inside, my blood roars in opposing directions. Happiness, because she chooses me, but frustration, because I can’t say yes.
“You need to get him into puppy school or something.” I press my foot to the accelerator when the light turns green, cross the intersection, and head toward the studio. “Him running into the street and causing accidents will get you hurt.” I purse my lips with disapproval. “We all know you’ll follow him straight in.”
“Mm.” She leans toward the stereo and begins fussing with the dials. “A flaw of mine, I suppose. How dare I care about people other than me? That Lucy Kincaid, such a bitch because she cares about other people before herself.”
“Not a flaw,” I amend. “But self-destructive, perhaps. Self-sabotaging. At some point, you have to think about you. You have to put yourself first, otherwise you’ll end up bitter and mean.”
“You’d know what that’s like,” she swipes.
Bullseye.
“And I do think of myself,” she continues defensively. “That’s why we’re dancing tonight, instead of building on our weights.”
As soon as I pull up at the studio, she flips her seatbelt off and slides out, only to fold the seat forward and let Deck follow. I follow them, because how the hell can I resist? but stop at the studio doors as she and Deck walk ahead and meet up with that douchebag who was here last time.
No shirt, and shorts much like mine, instead of the tights he wore last time. It’s like she called him in on his day off, so he’s here as a last-minute favor to her. And that bothers me so much more than if this was a routine session.
“Deck.” She turns to the goofy dog, leans a little so their faces almost meet, then she points to me. “Go sit!”
He smiles at her.
“Deck. Go sit with Mac.”
He swishes his ass so hard that the movement rolls right up to his head.
“Deck.” She stands taller. “I’m being the alpha, and I need you to go sit and be a good boy.”
“Deck?” Quieter, but firmer, I call the dog and point at the floor as he gallops over. “Lay down.”
He drops like a bag of potatoes and instantly starts licking his dick. His balls are long gone, they sit in a jar somewhere inside the vet’s office, so he works with what he has and produces gross slurping sounds that make Lucy’s lips curl back.
“Why does he listen to everyone but me?” she whines. “I said I was the alpha.”
“An alpha doesn’t have to tell people they’re the alpha.” I look straight over her shoulder and meet Rudy’s curious gaze. “Everyone knows by default. There’s a pecking order, and it’s natural to know where one stands.”
The dude-dancer’s lips curl into a sly smile that he drops as soon as Lucy peeks over her shoulder.
“Do we have a problem?” she asks him, then me. “Is this going to be an issue? Because I’m not breaking up fights today.”
“No problem.” I slide along the wall until my ass hits the floor, then I push my hands into my pockets and cross my ankles. “We know the pecking order. Trying to posture and jump line usually ends in the kind of injury that a dude doesn’t want.” I wave a hand toward them. “Go. Do your thing.” I peer directly into her eyes and lift a brow. “Dance for me, Holly.”
Her eyes darken. Widen. And the pulse in her throat becomes visible, which, despite my vow not to touch her, still pleases me.
I’m so fucking messed up that I say no to her, but I can’t let her go either. It’s so unbelievably selfish of me, but that’s who I am, ain’t it? Selfish and mean.
When I say nothing more, and Deck rests his head in my lap, she turns away with a huff and switches on the stereo. She cues up her music, not the song we first danced to, but a Jay-Z song, and turns it up so loud that the floor vibrates.
My foot begins tapping even before she kicks her shoes off, tosses her hoodie, and turns back to her partner. You can’t listen to Linkin Park without bobbing your head. It’s a fact of life, so I roll with it as she peels her yoga pants away and stands in that black leotard I knew would be under the heavy fabric of a Rollin On hoodie.
No little skirt today, no tutu, no-fucking-thing but a leotard that is basically swimwear. Swimwear at the beach is forgivable. But in a dance studio while another man watches her and waits to catch her… not okay.
I murmur the song under my breath and try to ignore Rudy’s flexing hands. They’ll be on what is mine soon, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. She wants to dance, and I told her long ago that she never has to choose between me and dance. It’ll never be a hardship, watching her move to the beat of a good song, so this is my penance. I get to watch her, but like my every nightmare, I have to watch her with someone else.
“Okay.” She points toward an invisible spot on the floor. “We’ll start from the lift. I want to nail it, since I don’t love it.”
“What lift?”
Lucy’s eyes snap to mine with impatience. “Don’t speak.”
“I just wanna know about the things that make you happy.” I flash a grin when she huffs again.
I suspect this is like someone talking to me while I’m working on a car – today notwithstanding. Normally, I want silence. Let me concentrate. Let me work my day job, get it out of the way, so I can move onto the good stuff.
“You brought me here. You’re being rude by ignoring me.”
“Shut. Up.” She glares so hot that I have to laugh. “I’m trying to concentrate.” She turns to Rudy. “On the third, lift, but I wonder if my glutes are too tight? Maybe if we switch legs, it might come easier.”
“I heard glutes,” I heckle. “Show me your glutes, Kincaid.”
“Gah!” She spins and looks to the dog. “Deck, attack!”
Deck’s eyes pop open and look at her. Then me.
I shake my head.
He yawns so wide that I can see right down into his throat, then he flops his head back into my lap and goes back to sleep. “He’s my dog now. Sorry.”
“I hate your stupid guts. Just… shush!”
Chest bouncing, I watch as she steps closer to Rudy and speaks with him as privately as she can manage when I’m sitting so close. She grabs his hand, places it on her ass and looks over her shoulder to make sure I’m paying attention.
I am.
Then she looks back to Rudy and speaks. His eyes remain on me.
It’s all fun and games until the beta wants to challenge me.
I push off the wall and sit taller, prepared to pop up and run at him just as soon as she steps out of the way, but then the music enters the chorus, and up she goes.
I’m left with my mouth agape when they move as smoothly as if Rudy were a machine and not a man. There’s no hesitation. No shaking muscles. He holds her eight feet off the ground, and touches no part of her body but one single calf muscle, and yet, there’s no shake, no worry that he’ll let her fall.
They spin as one, then it’s almost like she swan-dives forward. He continues to hold her leg, but her body, her pose changes. Her left leg flies, her heel and toes stand proud, higher than her head, and though this angle makes her ribs stick out scarily far, she still looks powerful as she flies.
I’m a slave to her every move. My heckling is gone, my joking. Even my constant hunger for her body, forgotten as she moves through the air.
But then he drops her. She tumbles, tumbles so fast that I thrust to my feet with my heart in my throat.
Before I can run at them and save her life, she stops falling. Two inches off the floor, she stops, he holds her, and in the next breath, he tosses her in a way that somehow, she twists out of and lands on her toes.
Her fucking toes.
“Come here.” Sophia arrives from nowhere, grabs my hips and pushes me toward the middle of the dancefloor while Rudy chases Lucy and spins her into his arms. “Arm like this.” Soph lifts my right arm. “Open your legs.” She kicks them apart the way we’ve done a million times when teaching in the gym. “Then get ready.”
“Get ready?” My heart races from nerves. “What? Sophia? Get ready for what?”
“Here they come.” Wide smile, Soph dives between the dancing couple, only to extricate Lucy from her partner’s arms.
Lucy folds herself backwards so far, so fast that I wonder why I don’t hear the cracks. But then she shoots forward. Like gravity doesn’t rule her. Like the floor isn’t there, and the fear of falling has never occurred to her.
My arms and legs remain exactly where Soph put them, like I’m a statue in the center of the room, but then Lucy slams against my chest and we’re off.
Without missing a single beat, she leads me, spins us, twists out of my arms, only to come racing back. When it’s time to lift her the way I did that first time, Soph stands behind me, guides my arms, and steers my hips when she wants me to step backwards.
“Let her go,” Soph coaches, then forces me to do so when I don’t do as commanded.
My arms ache without Lucy in them. My hands clench and my fingers tingle, because I want her back. I want to lift her some more. I want her to crash into my chest and smile that way that she does.
There’s nothing else on this planet, not one other hobby or person that makes her smile the way she’s smiling right now.
She races back to Rudy’s waiting arms, but I don’t feel rejected. On the dancefloor, he’s the fucking alpha. It pisses me off, but when it’s me and her, I help her lift. When it’s him and her, he helps her fly.
And that distinction is important.
“Watch her feet.” Soph stops beside me with a heaving chest. She races to catch her breath while Lucy and Rudy do their thing. “Watch those fighter feet.”
“She’s one of us. No matter how much you want to teach her to dance, she’s also a fighter.”
Soph laughs. “She really is. She can’t help it. It’s in her blood.” Then she jumps aside. “Get ready.”
“How do you know?” Heart pounding, I lift my hands, open my legs. It’s like we’re in the boxing ring. Hands up, wide stance. “Soph, how do you know?”
“The song.” She taps her ear and grins when Jay-Z sings of screaming until our lungs get sore.