Pas de Deux

by M. J. Duncan

  “How do you know that?” Will challenged.

  Mallory pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “Because even if she did fancy the company of the fairer sex—which I have no idea about one way or the other, by the way, so don’t even bother—I am shite with women. One needn’t look further than what happened with Gwen to see that. And Addison…” Her voice trailed off into a sigh, and she shook her head again. She might not have known her for very long, but she knew Addison deserved someone so much better than herself. “I’m happy with where my life is right now. Granted, I’m too busy to remember my own name half the time, but I genuinely enjoy my work, and I don’t need anything else. Okay? So”—she held her hand out and crooked her fingers for him to give her the phone back as she spotted Clara over Will’s shoulder, looking their way with a pointed get your arses out here glare on her face—“just let me reply to her text so we can get back to work. Clara looks about ready to march over here and drag us back into the crowd by the ear.”

  Will smiled and shook his head as he tapped at the screen of her phone. “This will be faster. Say cheese!” he instructed in a high-pitched, overly-enthusiastic tone of voice better suited to coaxing a smile from a toddler than a grown woman.

  Nevertheless, Mallory couldn’t help but chuckle as she muttered, “You’re bloody ridiculous.”

  Will hummed and nodded as he turned her phone so she could see the screen. “Perhaps. But you’re beautiful, Mal. And I like seeing you happy. Send her the picture.”

  A small smile tugged at Mallory’s lips as she looked at the picture he’d taken. It wasn’t often that she actually liked seeing herself in photographs, but whether it was the smirk she was wearing in the shot or the amused twinkle in her eyes, she couldn’t find any of the multitude of faults she knew she possessed in the image. “Fine,” she grumbled as she took the phone from him and attached the picture to the message thread. She debated adding some kind of comment to act as a caption of sorts, but every idea that came to mind seemed impossibly lame, and so she instead sent the picture on its own.

  Because it was worth a thousand words.

  Or something.

  “There. You happy?” she asked Will as she locked the screen and reached for her bag. Before she could slip the phone inside, however, it buzzed with Addison’s response. Nerves, light and fluttery, erupted in her stomach as her fingers tightened around the slim edge of the phone, and she held her breath as she flipped her wrist to see the screen.

  “What’d she say?” Will asked, sounding impossibly pleased with himself.

  There was no containing the smile that bloomed on her face when she saw the string of heart-eyes emojis that Addison had sent, and shook her head as she opened her clutch and dropped the phone inside. He might have prompted her to send the photo, but there was no way she was going to show him Addison’s response. He would try and convince her that it meant more than she was certain it did, and the last thing she needed was his encouraging the quiet hope that blossomed in the back of her mind whenever Addison did or said something that blurred the line between friendship and flirtation. She had seen Addison with her friends in Covent Garden, had lost count of the number of hugs and cheek kisses that had been exchanged, and she didn’t want to be forced to crush the whisper of what if that swirled inside her whenever that casual affection was turned her way by having to explain just how innocent Addison’s response had been.

  So, instead, she answered simply, “She liked it.”

  And Will, thankfully, didn’t press for more as he smirked as he offered her his arm and tilted his head toward Clara, who was still staring pointedly in their direction. “Told you it was a good idea.”

  “You did,” Mallory agreed as she tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and they began making their way back into the crowd.

  Clara, who looked quite dashing in one of her trademark suits, nodded to them as they neared where she was stuck in conversation with a round-looking man in a tuxedo and his equally round wife in an unflattering peach gown and smiled at the couple as she waved a hand at them in turn as she introduced them. “Mr. and Mrs. Verne, may I introduce Mallory Collingswood, leader of the symphony, and Will Adrian, our bassoonist.”

  The couple’s eyes betrayed exactly how star-struck they were as they all shook hands, and Mallory cleared her throat as she plastered a polite smile on her face and buckled herself in for what was sure to be a positively interminable evening.

  “Hold on a moment, please,” Devereaux instructed, holding her hand up to stop Mallory and Addison.

  Mallory turned to go get a drink of water as Nina and Toby fell into hushed conversation, only partially paying attention to the arms and legs moving in the mirror as the two talked. With almost four days down in her third week of rehearsals, she knew that now was the time to steal a sip of water if she wanted one, because as soon as the two choreographers agreed on whatever it was they were discussing, she would be directed back to one spot or another on the floor to try it all again.

  They had introduced the fourth piece of music the day before, having gotten the steps for the first three at least adequately down, and so the rehearsal was back to the start-and-stop routine of the first two weeks as they worked out the kinks. Though, because the section they were working on featured Addison much more heavily than herself—she had been instructed to stand somewhere between center stage and up-stage center to give Addison more room to dance—there were noticeably fewer interruptions than when she was more actively involved.

  The ultra-competitive part of herself was mildly irked by this, but mostly she was grateful for Addison’s ability to quickly grasp the ideas being presented to her and turn it into a strikingly beautiful series of dance steps.

  “So, what do you think?” Addison asked as she dropped to the floor beside their bags, which migrated further and further every day from where Nina, Toby, and Paul liked to stand. She stretched her legs out in front of herself as she pulled a metal water bottle from her bag and took a long swallow.

  Mallory set her violin in her open case and retrieved her own refillable water bottle from the floor beside it as she sat down next to Addison. “I haven’t the foggiest idea,” she admitted with a small shrug as she watched the muscles in Addison’s thighs twitch beneath the thin, almost sheer fabric of her white tights that she wore beneath a pair of royal blue running shorts.

  The music had been building from the beginning, slowly becoming faster and more energetic to build to this part, but she wouldn’t dare presume to even think that she knew enough about ballet to hazard a guess as to what Nina and Toby might be looking for.

  Addison grabbed a towel from her bag and wiped at her forehead. She didn’t look frustrated by the constant corrections, but she did look tired. The steps Nina and Toby had been directing her through were, to Mallory’s untrained eye, at least, a blend of classical ballet and modern dance, and she had been spinning and leaping and jumping for close to two hours now. And, though she made it look easy, the sweat drenching her pale blue leotard was proof enough that it took a remarkable amount of effort to appear so effortless. “Yeah…” she sighed.

  Mallory smiled and nudged Addison’s foot with her own. “I thought you looked wonderful, though.”

  “Thanks.” Addison rocked her foot to return Mallory’s nudge and winked. She sighed and returned her small towel back to her bag and pulled out her phone. Her eyes widened as she looked at the screen, and she arched a questioning brow glanced up at Mallory. “We’ve gone over. It’s pushing four o’clock. Don’t you have a performance tonight?”

  “I had a feeling we might have,” Mallory admitted. There were no clocks in the room, but they had worked through the first ten minutes of the performance three times before bringing in the next part, a positively formidable seven-minute piece titled Rise that was not for the faint of heart to attempt, which they had gone through more times than she could remember. “It’s fine. We don’t go on until seven, and my pre-show meeti
ng with Clara is at a quarter after six, so I have time. I brought my dress blacks with me because I wasn’t sure if I’d have time to run home and change before I have to be at the Barbican, so I’ll just grab a quick dinner at the canteen there and change in my office. Lord knows I’m only going to need a quick little warm up before I go on after this.”

  “I realize we’ve gone over for the day,” Nina called out, interrupting them. “But if we could just work through this one more time before wrapping up, we think we have this bit figured out. Mallory, is that okay with your schedule?”

  “Of course.” Mallory nodded and set her water bottle back onto the floor beside her violin case as Addison all but floated to her feet.

  “Here.” Addison held out both her hands to help Mallory up, knowing that the violin would stay put until she was back on her feet.

  They had taken to switching off helping the other to their feet after breaks, and Mallory smiled her as she laid her hands in Addison’s, tensed her arms, and bent her legs to help hoist herself from the floor. “Thank you.”

  Addison grinned and rocked back on her left leg as she yanked on Mallory’s hands.

  “Addy!” Mallory squeaked as she was nearly lifted into the air.

  “Sorry!” Addison laughed, looking entirely unrepentant as she deftly released Mallory’s hands and grabbed her hips to steady her as she stumbled to find her footing. “Guess I don’t know my own strength.”

  The warmth of Addison’s touch was noticeable even through the material of the thin capris sweatpants she was wearing, and her pulse jumped at the way Addison’s thumbs pressed against the point of her hipbones. “Bollocks,” she muttered as she stared down into laughing brown eyes.

  That made Addison smile even wider, and she looked so beautifully pleased with herself that Mallory couldn’t help but smile back. It was, she was learning, all but pointless to try to even feign annoyance with her.

  “I like it when you call me Addy,” Addison whispered, her smile softening in a way that made Mallory’s breath catch as she gave her sides a little squeeze. She sighed and cocked her head toward Nina and Toby as her hands fell back to her sides. “Right, well, back to the salt mines we go…”

  Mallory cleared her throat and nodded. “Right…” She took a deep breath as she bent down to gather her violin and bow, and let it go as she straightened and turned toward the spot where Addison was being swept into conversation with Nina and Toby while Paul listened on.

  She fiddled with the screws for the shoulder rest on her violin as a flurry of Franglais flowed back and forth between the choreographers and Addison, not really bothering to try and keep up with the exchange. The handful of words she knew in French did not translate to ballet, and it was so much less mentally taxing just to tune it all out and wait for the gist of what had been decided to be conveyed to her in proper British English.

  “I can do that,” Addison declared, drawing Mallory’s attention back to the group.

  “Excellent.” Nina looked to Mallory and gestured toward the back of the room. “Mallory, could you take your previous spot, please,” Devereaux instructed, the pitch of her voice lifting at the end of the statement even though it wasn’t a question. “Maybe vamp the beginning few bars to let Addison find her place, and when she begins to move, just stay with her.”

  “Will do,” Mallory agreed. She shouldered her violin as she neared her spot, and took a deep breath as her eyes locked onto Addison’s in the mirrors. She waited until the small tip of Addison’s chin assured her she was ready, and only then lifted her bow and began to play.

  Even though Nina had only asked for the first few bars to be vamped, she played through about the first minute of the song before ad-libbing a bridge that took her back to the beginning. This time though, Addison’s eyes fell shut as her shoulders, arms, and legs twitched in micro-movements to the music. The gestures got fractionally larger the third time around, and when she circled back to the beginning to start again for the fourth time, Addison’s eyes blinked open as her left shoulder dipped and her right arm lifted and she began to dance.

  Mallory didn’t need to know the names of the steps Addison was performing to appreciate their beauty, but before she could get swept up in the moment and lose herself in the long, long legs lifting and stretching twirling in front of her, she pulled her gaze to the mirrors. It was, she had discovered over the last few weeks, so much easier to not get distracted by Addison’s beauty and remarkable athleticism when she focused on the large-scale scene they were creating.

  Toby catching her eye and wiggling his shoulders was all the instruction she needed to know that she had slipped into old habits and was standing too still, and she took a deep breath as she relaxed her stance and allowed herself to move with the music. Close to three weeks of practice had made it easier for her to become more demonstrative while playing—though it still took a conscious effort on her part—and the nod Toby gave her for her effort made her feel like she was flying.

  She rode that high through to the end of the piece and, when the last note faded to silence, took a deep breath and squared her shoulders as she waited for Nina’s verdict. In front of her, Addison seemed to be doing the same as she dropped from her toes, her heels smacking softly against the floor.

  Nina seemed to enjoy toying with them as she studied them seriously for almost a minute, tapping her index finger against her lips, but then the furrow in her brow smoothed and a pleased smile curled her lips. “We can work with that. Nicely done, both of you.” She rubbed her hands on her thighs and nodded. “That’s it for today, ladies. Thank you for your hard work. We’ll pick up again tomorrow at one.”

  Mallory’s eyes widened as Addison turned to her with a beaming grin. ‘Nicely done’ was high praise, indeed, when it came from Nina Devereaux.

  Toby and Paul followed Nina from the studio as she and Addison made their way toward their things, the pleased tenor of their chatter the perfect way to end the session. All the frustration from their previous rehearsals was forgotten in the high of success, and Mallory felt lighter on her feet than she had since the first afternoon she had walked into Fonteyn.

  Once the door closed after Nina and company, leaving them were alone in the studio, Addison laughed and looped a victorious arm around Mallory’s waist. “We did it!”

  “You did it,” Mallory corrected with a smile. “I just made sure to stay out of your way.”

  “And played the most incredible music,” Addison argued, squeezing Mallory’s side for emphasis. She released her hold as they stopped in front of their pile of belongings against the side wall and gave Mallory a pointed look. “You do realize that none of this would be possible without you, right?”

  “Yes, well…” Mallory murmured, lifting her right shoulder in a small shrug as she looked away. The rehearsal session had gone so much better than the ones where she had been expected to dance that she sincerely doubted Addison’s belief that she was the only one who could handle the musical half of the equation, but she nevertheless appreciated the sentiment.

  Addison rolled her eyes and poked Mallory’s hip. “Don’t even try and argue with me on this. Just accept the compliment, Collingswood.”

  “Pushy American,” Mallory grumbled as she shifted away from Addison’s finger and bent to set her violin in its case.

  “Stubborn Brit,” Addison shot back as she dropped to the floor and began changing out of her pointe shoes.

  Mallory huffed a laugh and shook her head as she closed up her violin case. She was stubborn, usually to a fault, so she didn’t see the point in even trying to argue that one. “Right, well, what do you have going on this evening? Anything exciting?”

  “I’ve got one more rehearsal from four thirty till six to get ready for Mayerling in two weeks, and then I’m going to go home, toss a frozen lasagna in the oven to cook while I have a nice, long soak in the tub. Then I’ll probably eat dinner on the couch with my feet in an ice bucket and turn on some old Grey’s Anatomy ep
isodes on Netflix to distract me from the cold.”

  “Minus the ice bath, that sounds heavenly.” Mallory sighed as she tossed her ballet slippers into her bag and slipped her feet into her trainers, not bothering with the laces since they’d be coming off again as soon as she was in her dressing room. She was looking forward to officially kicking off the symphony’s season—Clara had put together a program that she was sure the audience would love and they had performed it flawlessly in rehearsal that morning—but the idea of going home and giving herself time to recover from the day she had already put in was appealing, too.

  “But the ice is the worst part!”

  “Exactly.” Mallory smirked and grabbed the lower rung of the barre overhead to pull herself upright. She rolled her head in a slow circle as Addison’s bandaged toes disappeared into soft slippers, and tilted her head toward the door when Addison crossed her legs at her ankles and pushed herself to her feet. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” Addison gathered the strap of her kit bag in her hand and slung it over her shoulder. “Want me to send you a picture of my poor feet freezing away in an ice bath?” she asked as they fell into step beside each other, their bags bumping together as they walked. “You know, just so you have proof that you weren’t the only one suffering?”

  Mallory shook her head as she pulled the door open and motioned for Addison to go ahead. “I don’t need a picture of that, no.”

  “Come on, there’s nothing sexier than feet that have spent the better part of the day en pointe,” Addison teased. “I mean, the bruises, the chafed skin from tape being pulled off…what’s not to swoon over?”

  “Okay. You win,” Mallory relented. “I’d love nothing more than to find a picture of your lovely feet waiting for me when I leave stage tonight.”

  “Kinky.”

  Mallory gave Addison’s shoulder a shove. “You’re the one who was insisting!”