Sway

by Melanie Stanford

  The guy steadied himself with one hand on the table but didn’t stand. I raised my eyebrows. His smile widened, revealing perfect dimples. They were so adorable that I had to fight the urge to reach out and touch them.

  My eyes followed him as he stood. His lips puckered in a cocky way. He was hot, and he knew it. I didn’t look away.

  “Ava!”

  We both turned at the sound of Lacey calling my name. Dimples-guy looked from Lacey to me and back again. Lacey and Eric awkwardly tried to sidle around him to get to the booth. With one last glance at me, dimples-guy turned and walked away.

  “Who was that?” Lacey asked as they slid into the booth from the other side, both of them out of breath and sweaty.

  “No idea.”

  Lacey waggled her eyebrows at me. “Uh huh…”

  I laughed. “My turn,” I said, sliding from the booth. “You guys can hold the table for a while.”

  Not only did I not want to be the third wheel at the table with Lacey and Eric, but I felt emboldened by the attention that guy had paid me. It was time to have some fun.

  A Taio Cruz song started playing just as I found Mari and Charlie on the dance floor. At first, my body felt strange, as if it didn’t remember what to do. Gradually, I loosened up. I stopped worrying about how I looked or what Eric and Lacey were doing alone at the table. My hands were in the air and my hips moved with a mind of their own. Mari, Charlie and I danced in a tight circle facing each other. We spun, we laughed, we let the music take us. And I had fun.

  I felt a hand caress my arm and I turned around. Grinning down at me, his teeth gleaming under the lights, was dimples-guy. His hand continued its path down my arm to my wrist. My pulse jumped under his touch. He grabbed my hand and tugged, gently pulling me closer.

  He was bold, but I was into it. I put my hands on his chest and moved with him. My heart sped to an even faster staccato, pounding with the beat overhead. His hands gripped my hips as we swayed and he pressed his forehead into mine.

  Sweat dripped down my neck. The air felt thick around us and I gasped for breath. When the song changed, I pushed back but left one hand on his chest. His eyes lingered on my lips. He placed one hand over mine and I could feel his heart thumping under my palm. Turning around, I placed his hands on my waist as we continued to dance. When he buried his face in my neck, I pulled away again. He took my hand and spun me back into him.

  After a few songs I needed a break, both from the dancing, and from this stranger who had my heart racing. “Water,” I said into his ear. I headed to the bar without waiting to see if he would follow. He did.

  “Water, huh?” Dimples-guy leaned against the bar next to me. His voice carried over the din of music, a deep bass like the beat of the song. He motioned to the bartender and asked for a beer.

  My eyes on him, I took a long swig.

  His eyes lingered on the sweaty shirt clinging to my skin. “It obviously does a body good.”

  I removed the bottle from my lips. “That’s milk you’re thinking of.”

  “If you say so.” He gave me that same cocky expression from before. His mouth looked entirely too delicious, which I’m pretty sure he knew.

  I leaned toward him so I wouldn’t have to yell. “Are you always this cheesy?”

  “Do you always talk about dairy products?”

  “It’s a very important subject.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Right up there with the federal budget, or the whole potato/potahto debate.”

  He barked out a laugh. “I’m Gage,” he said into my ear. Hot breath wafted over my face, tinged with beer. I wrinkled my nose. “And you’re Ava?”

  “Yep.” He remembered my name.

  “Well, Ava…” He moved in close and stroked his hand down my arm. Even though he was insanely attractive, I didn’t want to go where he wanted to take this.

  “I’m going to rejoin my friends,” I said, and stepped away. “Thanks for the dance.”

  “Wait!” He set his beer on the bar and grabbed my hand. “What if I want to see you again?”

  I studied his face. His dark eyes were a little glassy and sweat sprinkled over his forehead, but his lips were oh so inviting. A sharp pang of want surged through my gut.

  “You’ll have to find me,” I said.

  “Give a guy a chance here.” He took my other hand in his. “Phone number?” I shook my head. “Last name?”

  I bit my lip. Why not? “Elliot.” He blinked and his eyebrows rose just a fraction. “Ava Elliot.”

  For a moment, he just stared at me, looking a bit shocked. Then he leaned into me. “Challenge accepted.” His mouth grazed lightly over my ear, sending shivers through my entire body. He let go of my hands.

  I grabbed my water bottle and headed upstairs to the booth. The feel of his lips lingered over my skin, reigniting that burst of desire.

  When I got to the table, Lacey was leaning over Eric and talking to Mari. Eric wasn’t paying any attention to them. His eyes were on me.

  I squished in beside Charlie at the edge of the bench and opened my water bottle.

  “Who was that guy, Ava?” Mari shouted, so loud the surrounding tables could probably hear. “He was delish!”

  I shrugged, containing a smile.

  Lacey leaned against Eric but looked at me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance before.”

  A slow blush heated my cheeks. “It’s been awhile.” I took a swig from my water and tried not to feel old. When I put the bottle down, I noticed Eric was holding a bottle of water in his own hand.

  Lacey must have noticed it too. “We’re going to save a lot of money with the two of you and your water. Doesn’t this place have a minimum or something?”

  “Ava’s all about perfect health,” Mari said. “Bo-ring.” She turned to Eric. “What’s your excuse?”

  All eyes swiveled to Eric. He hesitated, his hand squeezing the bottle and then letting it go. “It’s not health for me.” Squeeze, release, squeeze, release. “I’m…not very nice when I drink. So I quit.”

  My curiosity piqued. For once, this had nothing to do with me.

  Lacey stroked his arm. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you do something bad?” Mari asked, eager for gossip.

  Eric shook his head, his face set. He didn’t want to answer and wouldn’t. Lacey leaned into Eric and whispered something in his ear. After a few seconds, his hand loosened from the water bottle.

  “Wanna dance?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “You go ahead.”

  Her mouth turned down in a pout. Eric leaned in and kissed it away. Her face still held a bit of hurt as she sidled out of the booth.

  “I’m coming,” Mari said. I let her and Charlie out of the booth and then sat back down. For the first time in eight years, since the day I broke his heart, we were alone.

  Sitting across from Eric, I watched him slowly stroke his fingers over the bottle. A faint crease appeared between his eyebrows. It used to be that I could tell what he was thinking, maybe because I knew him so well. Now, I had no idea. The person across the table from me was practically a stranger.

  He looked up and caught me staring. I opened my mouth but had no idea what to say.

  “Still a health nut, huh?” he asked, breaking the silence. “Not that I’m surprised given the reason.”

  A reason Eric knew well. My thoughts turned to my mother. I looked down at the table but all I could see was her face behind my eyes. “It’s not usually an issue.”

  “I know what it’s like,” he said. “Getting flak for not drinking.”

  “I bet. You’re a musician. It’s like going against the code or something.”

  Eric laughed. The sound tingled in my ears for a moment before it died. His face went serious. “I didn’t like what it was doing to me. Wh
o I was becoming.”

  I studied his face, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He looked away. “Don’t worry about it.”

  For a brief moment, he had been like the old Eric. Now I could feel him tightening up, pulling away. I reached for the Eric I knew.

  “You couldn’t have been that bad. I mean, you used to—”

  “Stop it, Ava.”

  I leaned back.

  “I’m fine. It’s not your job to fix me. Never was.”

  My mouth parted in surprise. “I wasn’t trying to—”

  “Why are you here anyway?” he cut in, his voice harsh as he shouted over the music. “This never was your scene.”

  His words stung like a screeching violin. I wanted to clap my hands over my ears so I would never have to hear him like this again.

  “Then again,” he went on, “maybe it is now. What do I know?”

  “It never used to be yours either,” I said, when I could find my voice.

  He shrugged. “I’ve changed.”

  “Clearly.”

  Eric raised his water bottle in salute. “All thanks to you.”

  That hurt more than anything else he’d said so far. I clenched my teeth and the pressure kept the tears at bay. “Are you sure that water isn’t spiked?”

  He blinked.

  I stood, eager to get away from him. And then I stopped. I put my fists on the table and leaned close to his ear so he wouldn’t miss a single word.

  “It’s been eight years. Get over it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  A couple of mornings later as I scrambled some egg whites with spinach, my phone rang. Unknown number. I put it to my ear with one hand while my other hand scraped the eggs in the pan with a spatula.

  “Hello?”

  “Ava Elliot?” The voice on the other line was deep and unfamiliar.

  “Yes?”

  “I win.”

  I frowned. “I’m sorry?”

  “It’s Gage. From the club the other night? We danced together.”

  The spatula almost slipped from my hand. “Oh right. Gage. How’d you get my number?”

  “I have my ways,” he said, sounding pleased with himself.

  Oh brother. “Well done.”

  “Actually, you’d never believe me if I told you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Oh no. It’s too soon for that.”

  I sprinkled pepper over my eggs and dumped them onto a plate. “For what, honesty?”

  “Secrets.”

  “I’m not ready for secrets anyway.” I grabbed a fork and took my breakfast to the table.

  “But you’re ready for me, right?”

  This guy spoke in pick-up lines.

  “Come out with me today,” he said when I didn’t answer.

  I hesitated. Told myself not to be so cowardly. “Sure. Okay.”

  “Excellent.”

  We made plans to meet. When I hung up the phone, I listened to my heart pounding double-time. I’d come home to LA wanting to start over. The Philharmonic was step one. Gage made a great step two.

  * * * * *

  I met Gage in a park nestled amongst a well-to-do community. Tall trees shaded picnic benches, the grass was lush and green, and a garden of well-groomed wildflowers lay in one corner. Two children sat at the edge of a pond with their mother, feeding breadcrumbs to the ducks lazily swimming in the water. Other than them, Gage and I were the only ones there.

  He was waiting for me, leaning against a tree in a short-sleeved button-up shirt. He had a James Dean vibe going on except for his hair—dark brown and almost buzzed. I parked my BMW and grabbed my purse before getting out.

  When I reached him, he broke into a smile. “You look even more beautiful in the light of day.”

  I fingered the hem of my lace shorts. “So, is this Frisbee at the park?”

  Gage lifted a blanket and canvas grocery bag from the ground. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  I nodded. Nerves had taken over before the date and I hadn’t been able to eat anything. I followed Gage to the middle of the lawn and helped him spread out the blanket.

  “I know it’s not very original,” Gage said when he sat down. “But I thought this was the best way to get to know each other.”

  I didn’t know what to expect from this guy, but it hadn’t been this. He pulled two ready-made salads from the bag and two forks.

  “Greek or taco?” he asked.

  “Definitely Greek,” I said, sitting across from him. I took the offered salad and popped the lid off. The smell of crumbled feta filled my nose and my mouth watered.

  “So.” Gage handed me a bottle of water. “Ava Elliot.”

  “So. Gage McCheesyPants.” I arched an eyebrow.

  “Johnson.” His eyes on me, he crumbled taco chips over his lettuce.

  “Gage Johnson.” I ripped open the dressing packet and poured it over the salad. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a model and an actor.”

  It figured. Those lush lips and eyes could sell anything. “Have I seen you in anything?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve done some commercials, some guest-spots, that’s about it. I’ve got a few big auditions coming up.”

  “For what?” I took a bite of salad, enjoying the mix of veggies, dressing and cheese in my mouth.

  “A lead role in a new HBO show. A smaller part in an action movie. And a recurring role on a soap.”

  I murmured my praise around the food in my mouth.

  “What do you do? Besides looking insanely cute with salad dressing dripping down your chin.”

  I blushed and wiped my face with a napkin. “I play the piano.”

  “As a job?”

  “Hopefully.” I went on to tell him about performing with the orchestra and my search for a teaching job. “I just moved back here so I haven’t figured everything out yet.”

  “From where?”

  “New York. I’ve been at Juilliard the past eight years.”

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That long?”

  “I had a lot to learn.”

  He put his empty salad container aside and sidled up beside me, stretching his long legs next to mine. “Did you miss home while you were gone? Miss your family?”

  When I’d left LA, I was angry at my family. I blamed them for my break-up. Blamed my dad and Aunt Rose for giving me doubts about Eric. Blamed my entire life for pushing us apart. It took me a while to wise up to the fact that the break-up had been my doing alone. The only thing I had missed was the memories of my mom at Kellynch. And Eric. I missed him like crazy at first. Over time, I forgot that I was supposed to.

  I couldn’t tell Gage all that. “A little,” I said.

  “You have sisters right?”

  “Yeah, two.” I froze mid-chew. I hadn’t told him that.

  “And your dad’s an actor?”

  I eyed Gage warily. “Did you Google me or something?”

  He laughed. “No.” He shot me a sly glance while I waited for him to explain. “Your dad is Walter Elliot.”

  Okay, he was starting to creep me out a bit. “How do you know this stuff?”

  “My dad was an actor on the same soap. The Time of Our Life.”

  “He was?” I leaned back on my hands and stared at him. “How did you find that out?”

  “They used to be friends. My dad told me a long time ago.”

  “Used to be—?”

  “It’s fate. We were meant to meet.”

  “Oh really?”

  He ran one finger lightly down my neck. “Don’t tell me that doesn’t thrill you, just a little.”

  I swallowed under his touch. “That is yet to be determined.”
<
br />   He did his now-famous lip-pucker. I resisted the urge to lean in just so I could see how those lips would feel.

  “So what did you do for eight whole years at Juilliard?” he asked. His eyes locked with mine and didn’t let go as I told him about my life in New York. I was surprised by how interested he seemed, how little he talked about himself. He devoured every little fact I gave him, and came back eager for more.

  An hour later, we were both lying on our bellies side-by-side. He was telling me a story of a photo-shoot gone wrong and I laughed into my hands, determined not to snort in front of him.

  “The snake is completely wrapped around my leg and squeezing.” Gage clenched his hands around one thigh in demonstration. “The photographer is yelling that he can’t get the shot and my leg starts turning purple. So one of the models tries to pry it off but it just hisses at her. And then, I think the snake decides he’s had enough of us and wants to hide. So it does—under my loin cloth.”

  “No!” Tears leaked from my eyes and I shook my head, begging him to stop.

  “I felt so…violated,” Gage said between his deep rumbling chortles.

  “Admit it, you loved it.”

  His laugh tickled my ears, his teeth gleamed white in the sunlight. Too white, but I ignored that.

  My laughter died when he reached out his finger and swiped my tears away. His hand moved from my face to my hair. He slowly pulled strands through his fingers. My heart pounded like a timpani, light and fast. I watched his lips part, the tip of his tongue snaked out and wet his upper lip. I wanted to taste it.

  We leaned into each other. His mouth brushed against mine and my eyes closed as our lips melded together. He cupped my cheek with one hand. I trailed my free hand up his chest, my fingers light and trembling. When my hand reached his neck, I pulled him closer. Our tongues met. He tasted like spice and heat and my whole body trembled for more.

  But I pulled back. He opened his eyes and slowly licked his lips. My face felt hot.

  “I forgot,” he said, his deep voice reaching an even lower octave.

  “Forgot what?”

  “Dessert.” He sat up. I followed suit as he pulled another container from the grocery bag. He opened it up to reveal a gooey, chocolate brownie bigger than my fist. It smelled divine, like ovens and aprons and my mother’s smile.