In The Spotlight

by Shona Husk

  Ripley shook his head again. ‘You look human, but you’re really an alien.’

  ‘I look at you and think the same thing.’

  Their jobs couldn’t be more different. But Ripley liked that. He didn’t like dating other artists. He liked men who were practical and knew more about cars than where the key goes and how to fill them up. He admired people who understood how things worked. He knew how his body worked but that was about it. And according to Anton, he didn’t know nearly enough about that either.

  He’d been aware of the coach watching him closely, looking for some undefinable strength of character when he performed. No performance was ever one hundred per cent perfect. Not that the audience ever realised.

  ‘Lucky for you I got changed and had a shower already, so I pass for human.’ Ripley grinned. He didn’t want to be arguing or defining what was going on. Relationships were what you made them. Two weeks could be forever or gone in the blink of an eye.

  He had the feeling that this was going to be over way too fast.

  Relationships that were short and sweet meant no one got their heart accidentally stepped on. It could, however, be all too easily yanked still beating from one’s chest. Leaving was going to hurt and they both knew that.

  The last thing he wanted to do was leave a trail of devastation—he much preferred to leave men with a smile. Maybe once the wounds had healed, he’d be able to smile about this. Anton’s words about commitment rang in his ears. Was he not giving his full commitment to the show because he was thinking of moving on—could Anton tell?

  Ballet was different from his relationships. He was committing to Pierce while he was here. He didn’t have a problem with committing. Except he never wanted to stay around long enough for things to get serious.

  There was no way Anton knew anything about that. He had to get work out of his head and focus on the man in front of him. Ripley ran his finger over the patches on Pierce’s uniform. ‘I know you have to get up early … but I don’t want to rush.’

  ‘Neither do I. I’ll just be tired. And cop a pile of shit for it because …’ he glanced at Ripley and looked uncertain. ‘They think I’ve finally got a girlfriend.’

  ‘Uh-huh. So what is my name?’ He didn’t know if he liked existing as a girlfriend, but he knew that Pierce was still finding his footing.

  ‘I didn’t give them one. They are a bunch of nosy gossips. Everybody knows everybody’s business and you have to keep really quiet to not get pinged.’

  ‘Sounds a lot like a dance company.’

  Pierce almost smiled. ‘I bet you’re one of the gossips.’

  ‘I love a tale, but I don’t spread rumours. No one wins.’ He undid a couple of the buttons. The fabric was crisp. Pierce really did look good in uniform.

  He could all too easily imagine pulling down Pierce’s pants and having him. Ripley glanced at the desk and the mirror.

  Pierce’s gaze followed. ‘I can leave my shirt on.’

  ‘You read my mind.’

  ‘Wasn’t that hard.’ Pierce’s hand was on Ripley’s hip. He kissed him, slowly. There were fewer nerves tonight.

  Maybe he’d be able to coax Pierce into giving a little head. ‘If you want to experiment I’ll offer up my body.’

  ‘How generous.’

  Ripley cupped Pierce’s jaw. ‘I mean it … plus I can’t help but wonder what that mouth of yours would feel like around my dick in place of your hand.’

  Pierce’s hand stopped its caress. ‘I may not be that great.’

  ‘That’s a risk I’m willing to take.’

  There was definite hesitation in Pierce’s face. Ripley kissed him slowly; his tongue dipped into Pierce’s mouth as it had done before. This time Pierce got a little more adventurous.

  Pierce drew back and pulled down Ripley’s pants. ‘Before I change my mind.’

  ‘I won’t come.’

  As Pierce knelt, Ripley realised how hard that promise was going to be to keep. Pierce’s fingers walked up the paw prints on Ripley’s upper thigh. ‘What’s this one?’

  ‘It’s … um …’ he couldn’t finish the lie he usually told about a family pet. ‘There was a lot of alcohol involved that time.’ It had been the start of the worst six months of his life. He and his partner had been out and drinking and had met up with his friends, some guys Ripley didn’t know. A few drinks later and they were back at someone’s house and naked. And bareback.

  There had been precautionary medication while he’d got tested, antibiotics, follow-up blood tests, and a break-up.

  After a traumatic wait, he’d come back clear. The paw prints were one for each man and a reminder not to get walked over to keep someone else happy.

  He glanced at Pierce. ‘I don’t want to force you.’

  ‘You aren’t … you’re giving me room to play.’ Pierce gave him a slow lick.

  Then Ripley couldn’t breathe.

  ***

  Pierce eased out of bed and dressed as quietly as he could. Part of him wanted to slip out, the other wanted to kiss Ripley goodbye. He couldn’t just leave. This was no longer a one-night stand. It was becoming more … more than a string of one-night stands.

  He placed a kiss on Ripley’s cheek. Ripley put his arm around him and pulled him on to the bed again. ‘Don’t sneak out on me.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to.’ It had been a fleeting thought, mostly because he wasn’t sure what he was doing. What they were doing. It was impossible to keep Ripley at arm’s length. Pierce wanted to be touching him … kissing him … and doing the things he didn’t usually do. His heart turned over at the memory of sucking Ripley. He wasn’t sure he’d been very good, but Ripley had been true to his word and let him explore. Then Ripley had spent a great deal of time giving what could only be described as the perfect head job.

  He trusted Ripley.

  Maybe he was fooling himself. Maybe Ripley was using him.

  But he didn’t feel used. He didn’t want to label what he was feeling.

  ‘Mmm. Coming back tonight?’ Ripley nuzzled into his neck.

  ‘You want me here every night?’ It was tempting, he didn’t mind the driving if this was the reward.

  ‘We can get some room service and watch a movie if you don’t want to get naked.’

  ‘I can come up every night, but I have duty on Friday.’

  ‘Duty?’ Ripley was waking up.

  ‘I have to work, be on the base all night.’

  ‘Damn. Well, I’ll see you tonight.’

  ‘Yeah, go back to sleep.’

  ‘We should do something on the weekend.’

  Pierce closed his eyes, glad Ripley couldn’t see his face. While he was enjoying staying the night and having a key, he wasn’t sure he was ready to go out and do something. It was too much too soon, for him. Too much like a relationship, and he hadn’t had one of those in years. Not since his last girlfriend—and that had only lasted a few months.

  ‘We can talk about it tonight.’ He pulled away and slipped out of the room.

  He was coming back tonight, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away. But he was glad he had duty and an enforced break on Friday, otherwise it would be far too easy to get swept into Ripley’s spell.

  Chapter 8

  The company physio had worked Ripley’s shoulder and it was almost feeling back to normal. He still didn’t know if he was looking forward to working with Anton each day or dreading it. A bit of both. There was nothing like a new coach to both crush you and open your mind up to new ways of doing things. He hadn’t expected his ability would be questioned. That he was somehow lacking something Anton was looking for and still hadn’t found in him.

  He felt like he was constantly playing catch-up and every time he got there, Anton changed the finish line. He walked out shattered and pissed off because he couldn’t get anything right.

  It was the wrong attitude and he knew it.

  It wasn’t only him. Today it had taken the company half an hour to get throug
h eight counts and get the moves to Anton’s satisfaction. A couple of people had made the mistake of grumbling. Just because they were in the corps didn’t mean they were invisible.

  He didn’t get any special treatment as soloist—he got it worse, if anything.

  Where is the spark?

  Dead and buried right now. Anton’s comments made it sound as though Ripley was going through the motions—and today even they had sucked.

  He would regroup and go back and work his ass off. Mostly because he refused to ever be beaten. A little because he would not let this chance slip by. As much as he hated every minute with Anton, he needed it. It was becoming clear he was coasting on a smile and good technique. That wasn’t enough anymore.

  He’d got through school by being the best, by rising above and putting on a front. He refilled his drink bottle. What if he didn’t have any more to give and there was nothing behind the facade?

  What if Anton was right?

  He didn’t even want to go there. He’d try harder. It had to be there. Coaches didn’t waste time tormenting people who couldn’t do it.

  Some days he was aware he was pushing too hard, but he couldn’t stop. If he stopped he might slide backwards, and he’d worked too damn hard to let that happen. Now he was sprinting to stay in place.

  There was so much he needed to do and not enough time.

  Seeing his father getting worse terrified him. Ripley stared at his hands. They shook, but only because he coming down after a ninety-minute class. He’d be thirty in four years. There could be a bomb inside him waiting to be tripped sometime in the next ten years.

  The closer he got the thirty, the more he contemplated getting the test done. He could do it while he was in Australia and the dance company didn’t need to know because it wouldn’t show on his American health insurance—would he still be able to get insurance in the States if he was going to get Huntington’s? There were so many practical things he didn’t know.

  Plus he hated blood tests and waiting for the results. And it would be a long wait. He’d sworn never again. But there was a certain comfort in a negative result. He might be fine. He might be wasting all this time thinking about it for no reason.

  Maybe it would be for the best if he spent his free time on the weekend with his parents, not Pierce. He might have been half asleep this morning, but he knew Pierce was reluctant to commit to spending more time. It bit, but he shouldn’t be expecting more even though he’d given Pierce a key. They were moving too fast because they didn’t have time to go slow.

  He had stop worrying about what might happen and get on with surviving the afternoon and the hundred micro corrections he’d already been given.

  Hold your arms.

  Push into the floor.

  Through the ankles.

  All of which made sense and would make him better. He stood up into first position, internalising and feeling each adjustment.

  He needed to make the most of Anton’s knowledge, and maybe his connections. If Ripley could get a job in Australia …

  His phone buzzed. Ten minutes until he was due back in. This afternoon they would do a full rehearsal—he hoped they’d get past the opening act. Given Anton’s current mood, Ripley’s hopes weren’t high.

  He picked up his bag and went in early.

  Anton glanced at him, but was talking to the other coach. Hopefully she’d be running this one. He was about to breathe a sigh of relief when Anton walked over.

  ‘How’s the shoulder?’

  ‘Fine.’ Ripley shrugged without pain.

  Anton considered him for a moment. ‘No doubling up this weekend. Chad can do the matinees.’

  Ripley gritted his teeth.

  ‘Better not to overstress it. Precautionary.’

  ‘I’m not breaking down.’ He’d know it if his shoulder was stuffed, and he’d be saying something.

  Anton considered him for a moment. ‘You said you were from here, make the most of the time to find your spark.’ He fisted his hand. ‘Make it so I can’t look away.’

  Other dancers drifted in.

  Ripley nodded. Not doing the matinees had never been up for discussion and his agreement wasn’t needed, but he wanted to be seen as a team player, not a pain in the ass. ‘Okay.’

  Anton was right, it would be better to not overwork his shoulder, and it would be nice to have a little more free time. As everyone took their starting places, he switched off all thoughts about everything except for the music and what he needed to do. He needed more than a smile. It was only rehearsal, but he was beginning to feel as though his career was on the line.

  ***

  If the amount of shit he’d received all week for having a girlfriend was any indication, there was no way in hell Pierce was ever admitting his lover was actually a man. But he wanted to be able to say something, he wanted to be able to tell the truth instead of dodging it. He didn’t want to be avoiding the issue in ten years’ time, or even five. After seeing how comfortable Ripley was, he wanted that.

  But he didn’t know how to get from where he was to where he wanted to be.

  He let himself into the hotel room. It was a little weird being here early, and being in Ripley’s room alone. However, he would’ve been too tired to drive up later. He took off his shoes and tucked them under the desk. He tried not to think about the way Ripley had looked with his hands on the desk, watching in the mirror as Pierce … Pierce looked at himself and shook his head.

  There were some things he didn’t need to see and among them were the faces he pulled while fucking.

  He put on the TV and flopped onto the bed, then ordered pizza from room service to arrive in an hour. Then he immediately doubted himself. Was he sending a clear sign that he wasn’t here for sex?

  Was he here for sex?

  He’d had it more in the last week than he usually had in six months. There was no desperate need. He just wanted to be here. That was just needy.

  Maybe he should go … but the idea of leaving and driving home was too much. He was getting used to the company. To sharing a bed.

  The TV chattered and he closed his eyes. He was getting in too deep.

  The door clicked and opened. Pierce startled. He’d fallen asleep.

  ‘Shit.’ Ripley stepped back and then sighed. ‘I didn’t expect you to be here already.’ Ripley dropped his bag.

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t want to drive up late. Should I have waited outside?’ But he had a key. This was so weird.

  ‘No.’ Ripley leaned over the bed and kissed him. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see such a good-looking body on my bed. Thought I had the wrong room or something.’

  ‘Definitely your room, can’t you tell from the mess?’

  Ripley glanced at the clothes lying around. ‘It’s tidy.’

  ‘Yeah … I hate to burst your bubble, but this is not tidy by anyone’s definition.’

  ‘Well, maybe not tidy, but it’s … I can find everything.’ Ripley lay on the bed with his head on Pierce’s stomach. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

  Pierce ruffled Ripley’s dark hair. It was wet, as though he’d showered before coming back to the room. He must have. He wasn’t in costume or make-up either.

  They were both silent. Ripley wasn’t usually this quiet—or at least he hadn’t been in the time Pierce had known him.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Yeah. Temporary coach while the regular one gets over chickenpox. Anton is … I want to say picking on me, and he is, but in a good way. Do you know what I mean?’ Ripley glanced up.

  ‘I think so. It’s for your own good kinda thing?’

  ‘Yeah, that.’ He fell silent again. ‘Did you want to do something on the weekend? I’m not doing the matinees so I’ll have a few extra daylight hours.’

  He wanted to ask why? Or like a date? Or even ask what they were doing, but he didn’t. They were doing whatever this was. He’d already agreed to that and taken the key and used it. ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don
’t know. I want to get out. I haven’t been back here for ages and it might be ages again.’

  What was he, a temporary friend who put out? Something like that. Would they have even been friends if they’d met and had no spark of lust? Pierce doubted it. They were too different and had nothing in common.

  Ripley turned and looked at him. ‘What’s eating you?’

  ‘How do you do it?’

  Ripley frowned. ‘What?’

  ‘Go out and not care and …’ Pierce shrugged. ‘Everything. I want that.’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m wired that way.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘I never had to be anything else. No one tried to make me change so I never did. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t terrified at times—teenage boys can be cruel and I spent all my free time in tights.’

  ‘My mother said it wasn’t possible because she’d taken me to church every weekend. It’s never been discussed since.’

  ‘What about your brothers or sisters?’

  ‘I have two sisters. One older, one younger. The older one doesn’t want to know, Michelle left home to go to uni and we talk.’ His family was prickly. His parents went to church but only his eldest sister still went with them. She hadn’t left the small town she’d been born in. The idea of staying had never occurred to him. He hadn’t expected his mother to want to ignore him so completely either. He should’ve known better. There were so many things that his mother put to one side as being too hard. So she chose to ignore them.

  ‘My parents are the best, my brother is a dickhead. He still calls me Jacob.’

  ‘Ripley isn’t your name?’ But it was the name he was listed under in the cast. Pierce wasn’t about to admit that he’d looked Ripley up.

  ‘My middle name. I thought it would be a good idea to reinvent myself at sixteen when I told my parents. Looking back, I might have been a touch dramatic about the whole thing.’

  ‘You, dramatic? I don’t see it.’ Pierce grinned. He couldn’t imagine Ripley ever being Jacob.

  Ripley grinned back. ‘Okay, some things don’t change.’

  There was a knock on the door. Ripley tensed. ‘I’m not going out. I told them that.’

  ‘It could be the pizza. I ordered in. I’ll find out.’