“I thought they wanted a fast one.”
“No, a slow one.”
“Please, let’s dance a fast one. I found a great song that would fit perfectly,” he complains.
“OK. Where’s the CD?”
Gavin walks over to join me. “You just put it on. I bought the CD when I was on tour in Germany, because I liked the cover.”
I glance at the CD. Lemon Ice is written there, and I raise my eyebrows. I’ve never heard of that artist, but that might be due to the fact that some musicians are really successful in Germany without ever releasing anything in the United States.
“I thought we could dance to ‘Stand by Me,’ too.” Gavin starts the song and I listen as he starts singing along.
“I know you’re musically inclined, but you should probably leave that out on Saturday.”
“Why?”
“Because you have to smile, or make an appropriate expression during the dance.”
“And what’s appropriate for rumba?”
“Well, you should avoid grinning like a fool like you did the last two weeks, that doesn’t fit with the whole rumba thing.”
“Why not?”
“Because this is an emotional, passionate dance. You can look sad or unhappy or in love, but not like this.” I give him a wide smile while I dance the basic step. Gavin laughs. “Can’t you see how stupid that looks?” I want to know.
“I can. It was Julie’s advice.”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s do this.”
He puts the song on repeat before coming over to me. We take up the basic pose, and I correct the position of his leading arm. “Ow.”
“That’s good; that means you’re holding your arm right.”
“You’re such a dictator,” he snorts with amusement.
I glance at him expectantly. I want him to take the first step and take the lead. That’s his job as a man.
Finally he takes the first step. I pay attention to his posture and hips. “Work your hips more,” I demand with a smile as he stretches out his leading arm and I spin. “It’s working almost perfectly now to fall back into the basic step. Are you ready to try the lift?”
“How does it work?”
“You grab me here,” I say, pointing at my hips, “and then you lift me up so I can basically do a split in the air.”
“Now?”
“When you feel ready. First we’ll perfect the spins and your hip movement, and then we can do the lifts.”
“All right.”
I spend an hour helping Gavin to move his hips the right way. All I want is to get into the next show; I’m not pretending I have a big chance to win yet. This way, at least I won’t be disappointed.
After we’ve listened to the song for the twenty-second time, Gavin detaches himself from me. “Is that enough now?”
“Yeah, you’ve got it now.”
“Am I allowed to try the lifts now?” he asks with a chuckle.
“Absolutely not.” I walk over to the machine and turn off the music. I can hear his footsteps, and then I feel his warmth on my back.
Gavin wraps his arms around me and lays his head on my shoulder. “I miss you, Lane.”
“But I’m here,” I say, confused.
“No, the Lane I know isn’t here. All I see is a professional dancer hiding her feelings.”
“We need to practice,” I reply.
He strokes my stomach. His hands travel up to the edge of my breasts and touch them with the thumbs. “Why do you shut me out?”
“Why can’t you take no for an answer?”
“Because I don’t want to give up on people who are important to me,” he murmurs and kisses me lightly on the earlobe.
“I’d like to practice, Gavin.”
“And I’d like to finally find a way into your heart,” he whispers.
“That’s it. Let me go.” Oh man, what is this? I’m just trying to do my job in peace without making out.
He won’t let me go, instead he turns me around and looks into my eyes. “Why don’t you want me?”
“I already explained that to you,” I sigh and lower my gaze, which brings his muscles back into my focus. That’s why I look back up at him.
“And I’m not satisfied with your explanation. Lane, I’ve . . . never been this attracted to a woman, please give me a chance.”
If he keeps looking at me like that, I’m going to cave. “You’re going to hurt me like all the others. I don’t want to . . . be destroyed like that.”
Gavin cups my face in his hands. “I would never hurt you.”
I bite my lip, but he pulls it back out with his thumb. “We’re too different.”
“Opposites attract,” he murmurs.
“I’m not up for some Cinderella story, Gavin,” I whisper.
“It won’t be. You haven’t lost a shoe.” He smiles at me.
“You’re on the go a lot.”
“So come with me.”
Does he have to have an answer to all my objections? “I . . .”
“Yes?”
“I really like you, but this won’t work.”
“Why not, Lane?”
“Because I . . . Oh man, just accept that I don’t want to try this!” I shout at him, momentarily courageous.
He gazes into my eyes for a moment, and then he bends down, kissing me fiercely, passionately. I grab his wrists to pry him off me, but he backs me gently against the wall, and my resolve starts crumbling. It’s so unfair that he has this effect on me.
His kisses get deeper, make me sigh, and finally I can’t resist any longer. I let him lift me up while our lips melt together. I place my hands on his back and feel his muscles, which don’t even twitch under my weight, but only move when he strokes my back.
His fingertips explore my upper body until he slides them under my top. His fingers are like hot iron, burning me wherever they touch. The tip of his tongue glides into my mouth, playing with mine gently. Then he breaks the kiss and feels for the edge of my top, and pulls it off over my head. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, gazing at my body. I reach down and untie the cord on his sweatpants.
Suddenly he sets me back on my feet. “Wait here, I . . . have to go get a condom.”
“OK.”
Gavin kisses my forehead, then leaves the room at a run. This is the chance for me to run for it. I know if I don’t, I’ll fall for him for good. I put my top back on quickly, run into the bathroom, where I shove my clothes into my sports bag, and put it on my shoulder. I grab my purse and leave the room, scampering. Hopefully nobody will see me.
As soon as I’m outside, I run down the driveway.
“Lane!” I hear Gavin calling after me.
I won’t listen to him. No, I just run faster. I drop my sneakers, but I ignore them because I’m afraid he’ll catch up with me if I stop to pick them up. How did that frigging Cinderella story go?
“Lane, wait!”
How could he follow me so quickly? His voice sounds far away, but I’m done for if he gets in his car.
With a stitch in my side and panting breath, I reach the gates that are being opened for me. I leave the property as fast as I can, just barely slipping out of the opening. Now I have to reach the bus stop before he catches me. All that matters is that I get away from here.
My phone starts ringing as I’m sitting in the bus. I check the display. It’s Jonah. “Hey. Meet you soon at the dancing school? I’m already on the way there.”
“Hi, Lane. I’m on the way, too. When will you be there?”
“I guess in half an hour or so, you?”
“In an hour, probably. I was in a traffic jam in the middle of Manhattan, and then again going out of the city. It messed up my time management.”
“I’ll just practice my solo until you’re there,” I answer.
“All right, see you later, Lane.”
“See you, Jo.” I hang up and am about to put my phone back in my purse, when I notice a new WhatsApp message. How had I not seen that b
efore? I open it and see a picture of my shoes. Why did Cinderella run away? Gavin wrote. I take a deep breath before sending him the following message: Because Cinderella realized she and the prince were making a mistake.
His status changes to “online” and finally to “typing . . . ,” and then I have his answer. If these shoes fit you, you owe me a date. I won’t be denied, I insist ;-)
“Fuck,” I utter with a heavy sigh. I lean my head on the window and look outside. As though to match my mood, rain starts falling. A date with Gavin would surely be incredible, but also exhausting, because I’d constantly have to resist him. And wasn’t that successful today? I think ironically. I just can’t do it. How can I manage not to give in? I have no idea. I can’t just think of something off-putting for hours on end. I close my eyes, feeling desperate.
I reach the Dance Academy sopping wet and go inside. Luckily I’ve packed two of everything, apart from the leggings I forgot.
“Hi, Madeleine,” Cynthia, the receptionist, says, welcoming me.
I smile at her. We used to take lessons together. “Hi, Cynthia. Is room five free?”
She nods at me. “It is. Just a moment, I’ll give you the keys.” She begins rooting through a drawer. The keys used to be pinned to a board, no idea why they discontinued that.
She hands it over and I thank her.
“Do you need a shower? You’re sopping wet.”
“Oh, may I?” I ask.
“Yes, in the changing rooms. I’ll give you the key for a private one, you’ll find towels there.”
“Great, thanks, Cynthia.”
Finally I have the second key, too, and have memorized the way there. Chilled through because of the wind and rain, I finally reach the changing room. I peel off my wet clothes and lay them over the radiator to dry. Then I step into the shower.
When I get out ten minutes later, I’m feeling warmer.
After getting dressed, I leave the changing room with a CD in my hand. For my solo, I’m going to dance to “One Last Wish” from Casper. Ballet choreography. It’ll be the first time in years that I dance ballet in public.
I reach the ballet room five minutes later. I put the CD in the stereo and start the song. Then I sit down on the floor and put on my pointe shoes. As soon as they’re laced up around my legs and tied with a bow, I begin dancing. I move from a pirouette into a jump. I’m finding it difficult to do the moves that Jonah came up with, since this was one of Brooke’s favorite songs. Casper was her favorite movie.
A second jump, but I don’t land right and fall. I stay on the ground and start crying. I can’t do it.
A few minutes later, I feel arms picking me up and hugging me. “What happened, Lane?” Jonah asks with concern.
“I just can’t do it,” I sniffle.
“Do what?”
“I can’t dance to this song, it’s not possible.”
“Do you mean your solo?”
“I mean this song in general.”
He sighs. “We can make this work together, OK? We’ll dance everything together, and for all I care we can change the steps and do everything freestyle.”
“Does it have to be this song?” I say, feeling frazzled.
“You wanted this song, remember? You said you felt so connected to it.”
“I remember, but maybe we can change it.”
“You’re a strong girl, Lane, you’ll rock this,” Jonah tries to encourage me, pulling me to my feet. “But we’ll turn it into freestyle, OK? Maybe we can get a medley of the songs from the movie, how about that?”
I take a deep breath as he wipes away my tears with a tissue. “Freestyle sounds good, but the medley not so much.”
“Then it’ll be this song. It’s no shame if you cry. She was your best friend, OK?”
I nod at him.
Jonah kisses me on the forehead. “That’s the Lane I know.”
“The crying, sniffling one?”
“The strong, courageous one,” he corrects me with a smile.
I return his smile tentatively, but I feel like I must be grimacing pretty badly.
“I’ll get dressed and then we can start, OK?”
“OK.”
“See you soon.”
“Wait, I was offered one of the private changing rooms, you can get dressed there, too, if you want.” I get out the key and hand it to Jonah.
“Thanks, Lane.”
Chapter 10
It’s Friday, and I’m shopping with Pax. Luckily, I managed to put off the plans for yesterday by telling Gavin I’d come down with the flu. We’ll just have to make it work somehow at the dress rehearsal. Jonah and I chatted a lot while we practiced, and he asked me for a second chance again, but I declined. The TV station rescheduled my rehearsals to early evening because they needed the studio at noon today.
My parents weren’t exactly thrilled that I stayed home yesterday, but what was I supposed to do? I can’t jump headfirst into something that I know will break my heart. Dad and Etienne both agree that I think too much and should try listening to my heart instead. While I’m waiting for Pax, who is currently in the fitting room, I mull it all over. I haven’t done anything else for the last few days.
“Gosh, the people you meet here. Hi, Lane,” Alexis, Gavin’s bandmate, greets me.
“Hey, Alexis. How are you?”
“Good, you?” He sits down next to me and regards me with a smile.
“Not so great.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh . . . Gavin, my ex-boyfriend, the show . . . Right now I just feel like running away.”
He sighs empathically. “What happened with Gavin?”
I shake my head. “He’s . . . great, as usual. It’s more what his presence does to me.”
“Are you in love with him?”
I stare at him mutely.
“Boy, is she ever,” Pax chimes in, amused, as he comes over to join us. “Hi, I’m Pax.”
“Nice to meet you. Alexis.”
“Hey,” Pax replies. “Lane, I’m pretty much done here. I’m buying the jeans, but the shirt’s too tight. I don’t want to look gay.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Are you a homophobe, or what?” I ask, bemused.
“Oh, you know what I mean. I don’t want to wear a skintight shirt.”
“Then go get two sizes bigger,” I suggest. “But watch your tongue.”
Alexis chuckles next to me. “I’ll second that.”
Pax disappears into the gentlemen’s section with a mischievous grin that makes him look a lot younger.
“What brings you here, Alexis?”
“Oh, we drove to the city with Gavin so we can support him tomorrow. Linden’s running around here somewhere, too. The others stayed at the Plaza.”
I nod. “Sounds good.”
“Maybe you’d like to go out with us tomorrow night?” he asks.
“Sorry, I can’t, I already told Pax I’d do something with him.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” he inquires, looking at me with caramel-colored eyes.
“No, we were high school sweethearts, but we broke up before we graduated. We’re just friends now,” I explain, although I owe him just as little of an explanation as I owe Gavin.
“I see.”
“Lane?” Pax calls.
“Excuse me. I need to get going,” I say.
“See you soon, Lane.”
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Alexis. Bye.”
When I arrive where Pax is standing, he gives me a questioning look. “This one or this one? I can’t decide.” He shows me a black shirt with white pinstripes and a white one with black stripes.
“I like the black one better. Are you buying it to go with the jeans?”
“Yeah. I thought a white T-shirt under that wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Then try it on.”
“OK.” He takes off his jacket and shirt, under which he’s wearing a white tee, and then he slips into the black shirt again. It really suits him well.
I nod at him as he gives me another questioning look. “Looks great on you.”
“Finally,” he sighs, taking it off again.
“The one before looked good, too, but it was too tight.”
“Yeah, and they don’t have that one in a bigger size.”
“So let’s go pay so I can finally get out of here.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am.”
When he reemerges from the fitting room in his own clothes, we go to the register and he pays for his clothes. “Want to grab a coffee?”
“Sure, why not? We can leave the bags at my place and then we can go ahead to the studio, because there’s a café there with the best coffee ever.”
The café is diagonally across from the TV studio where they’re filming CDH. I’ve already finished my cappuccino and the sandwich Pax forced me into buying.
“You’re still trying to figure out what you want, aren’t you?” he asks suddenly.
I give him a confused look. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “Well, you seem like you haven’t made a definite choice yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say with a grin.
“You don’t know yet what you want. Pro career or quiet life. Love life or work life,” he says pensively. “Can I tell you something?”
I nod tersely.
“Don’t look for a path to follow—make your own, Lane.”
“I seriously have no idea what you’re trying to tell me,” I say with a laugh.
“I want you to be happy, and I can see that isn’t the case right now. I’m just giving you the advice to make your own path, because if you do what all the others ask of you, then everybody will be happy . . . except for you,” Pax says thoughtfully.
I smile and put my hand on his. “Thanks, Pax.”
He returns my smile. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Lane. It’s just the truth.”
I lift my gaze to the clock over the counter. “I should get going.”
“Should I wait for you here?”
“It’s going to take at least two hours until I’m done. If you want, drive to my place. Macey knows you’ll be staying with us.” I hand him my keys. “But make sure you’ll be there, OK? Or I’ll be standing in front of a locked door.”
Gavin: Pure Passion (Hamptons Book 1) Page 15