by Cate Holahan
The embrace felt like returning home. She wanted to relax into it but couldn’t. He wasn’t her home anymore. Moreover, she worried Peter would glance over his shoulder and see that her “friend” was more than that—or had been. He hadn’t yet made it off the quad.
She pushed both hands into Dimitri’s chest. He dropped his arms from around her waist. She stepped back.
“Hey,” she said.
The warmth left Dimitri’s smile. The expression froze on his face, toothy and awkward. “Something wrong?”
“No. It’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”
Dimitri followed her gaze over his shoulder.
Even though Peter had made it to the edge of the quad, she could still tell his clothing was rumpled and used. The walk of shame wasn’t as obvious as a woman in a cocktail dress on a Sunday morning, but it was close.
“I thought guys weren’t allowed in the girls’ building.”
Nia squinted as though she couldn’t quite see the subject of his curiosity. “Oh. That’s Peter. He’s a teacher.”
Dimitri tilted his head. “And he’s on the girls’ quad on a Saturday morning?”
She felt a flush of guilt. She told herself that the emotion wasn’t warranted. Dimitri couldn’t have expected that she’d spent the past year without any romantic relationships. He’d undoubtedly seen many girls since their breakup.
Hurt crackled through Dimitri’s chestnut-colored eyes. He knew. There was only one reason a thirty-something guy would be on the girls’ quad on a Saturday: to see a woman. And she was the only woman around.
His mouth twisted in disappointment. “He came from your room?”
This was not how she’d imagined the reunion with her ex: him in the self-righteous position and her struggling to explain herself. He’d ended things. Why should she be on the defensive?
“Wait a second. You break up with me a year ago, then call out of the blue, and you want to start with the third degree?”
“Well, I didn’t think you would have some dude with you.”
“I didn’t have him with me. He’s across the courtyard.”
“You’re sleeping with him?”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Honestly? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m kidding about you sleeping with some guy?”
“No. You must be kidding coming here and acting like you have a right to know. You wanted to see other people. And now you’re acting possessive, like I’m wronging you by seeing someone?”
Anger made her theatrical. Her hands flitted around like a hummingbird, brushing her brow, flying out toward him. She pivoted toward her dorm. “You know, this was a bad idea. You should just go.”
He grabbed for her hand. She pulled both into her chest.
“Okay.” Dimitri’s stance softened. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just wasn’t prepared. Where would you like to go for brunch?”
“I don’t know the area too well yet. There’s a pay cafeteria—”
“I was thinking someplace more private.”
“Apparently, there’s a brunch place in a nearby bed and breakfast. I don’t know the name, but we could search for it.”
“Sounds good. My car is in the visitors’ parking, down the hill.”
He again reached for her hand. She kept it at her side.
She felt the warmth of his presence behind her as she led the way down the sloping path. A pink blush crept up the tips of the broad-leaf maples lining the walkway. Soon the green landscape would turn red and gold.
“It’s nice here,” Dimitri said.
His fingertips brushed her thumb. She stopped walking and kept her hand steady. He read the signal. His palm engulfed her fingers.
“You look beautiful.”
She turned toward him. He smiled. The expression seemed sad.
“Thanks. You look good, too. The same.”
“I’ve missed you.” He reached for her other hand. His thumbs stroked her wrists.
She steeled herself with a shrug. “Well. You wanted to see if you would.”
His full lips curled inward. He nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. I should never have asked for space. It was the worst decision I’ve ever made.”
The words cut through her. Distance had dulled the pain of their breakup. Dimitri’s sudden proximity sharpened it into a stabbing sensation.
His chocolate eyes took on a syrupy quality, threatening to melt her anger. She held her breath, trapping the hurt, and forced a sarcastic snort. “Why?”
His pectorals lifted and fell, highlighting the crevice where her head had once fit perfectly. She tore her gaze away.
“I was stupid. I’d felt overwhelmed and everyone kept saying, ‘You’re young, you can’t know what you want.’” He touched her chin, forcing her to look up at his deep brown eyes. “But I did know. I knew I wanted to be with you the first time I saw you.”
She coughed, clearing a way for speech in her cinched throat. “I mean, why do you know this now? Did you break up with someone or—”
“No. I mean, I dated. But no one came close to you. I thought about going to see you, but I didn’t know what it was like for you on the road . . .” He rubbed her hands again. “That’s no excuse. I should have come sooner.”
She blinked at the sky to keep the tears from falling. It was a smoky blue today. Gray blue. Like Peter’s eyes.
“You’re right. You should have come sooner. I’m seeing someone right now.”
“It can’t be like us.”
“It’s new. But I’m not going to break it off just because you’ve decided you made a mistake. All I can offer right now is friendship.”
He looked away. She braced for his response. Maybe friendship wouldn’t be good enough. Maybe he’d decide that coming to see her had been a mistake. Maybe she was blowing her one shot to make things work with him again.
She pressed her lips together, stopping herself from proposing anything more. She couldn’t run back to him. It wouldn’t be fair to Peter, and it certainly wouldn’t be fair to her.
“Okay. I understand. I’ll take it.” He sighed. Another sad smile creased his face. “Where are we going to brunch?”
“I don’t know. I’m not that hungry.”
“Yeah. Me neither.” He jostled her arm playfully. “So, want to dance?”
20
Exercices Au Milieu [ex-ahr-CEE-SAYS O mill-eww]
The name given to a group of exercises performed in the center of the room, without the support of the barre.
Dimitri stood in front of the wall of windows overlooking the lake. He jumped in a perfect stag leap—front leg bent, back leg extended behind him. For a moment, he looked as though he were floating in air. He landed, perfectly, on the pads of his sock-covered toes. He hadn’t brought ballet slippers, and street shoes were not permitted in studios. Hard soles scuffed floors.
Nia fiddled with the computer on the wall. A gentle waltz slipped through the speakers. She twirled into him. He grasped her waist. She rose to the tips of her satin-wrapped pointe shoes and, facing him, extended her back leg into arabesque. He rotated her sideways and slipped his hand beneath her raised thigh. She readied to fly.
He lifted her high above his head. She bent her knee and pointed her foot to her thigh, confident that the movement wouldn’t upset his hold.
After a moment, he placed her pointed foot back on the floor. He stepped to the side, hand still outstretched, offering his physical support for whatever she wanted to do next. She dipped forward and extended her raised leg behind her into a straight line with her standing leg—scratching her earlier itch to showboat during penchée practice.
“Nice. You can balance that on your own now.”
“Ruban taught me some things.” She lowered her leg and traveled forward on her toes as she talked.
He followed behind. She caught a flick of his heel in the air. She copied his pas de chat, leaping from one foot to the other, bringing her knees up to form a diamond
. They leapt across the room, alternating between the “cat’s step” and the foot-fluttering entrechat.
They landed each jump at the same time, completely in sync. He’d always been the perfect partner. She could read the step he wanted from the micromovements of his body: the flick of his wrist, the slope of his arm. He could stare at her face while following her footwork, always in the right position to execute the next lift or turn.
She twirled around his muscled body and then slowly lifted a leg in front of her. Suddenly, she tossed herself backward. He caught her and lifted her horizontal figure to his chest. She might not trust him as a lover, but after years of dancing with him, she would always trust him to catch her if she fell.
He lowered to one knee. She dismounted and his hands encircled her waist. He spun her in front of him, then pulled her into his body.
His chest rose and fell against her own. They were too close to dance anymore. She looked up at his lowered head. His chin tilted to the side. His nose grazed her cheek.
Too close.
She jumped backward, freeing herself from his embrace. No more dancing.
“The students might need this room soon,” she lied as she shut off the music. “We should probably go.”
“Okay. If that’s what you want.” He grabbed his leather loafers from the side of the room and slipped them onto his feet. “So how is teaching going?”
“Good. The students’ levels are pretty varied. But there are two girls who are really, very good. One was at ABT for the last two summers.”
“Must be fun to choreograph for them.”
Nia grimaced. In her attempt to sound more important during their phone conversation, she’d inflated her job description. Her earlier excuse for needing to leave the studio was already one lie too many.
“To be honest, my role has been more about demonstrating Battle’s choreography suggestions. He likes to see his ideas in action.”
“Oh.” He tied his shoe. The silence that followed dwelled on her lie. She needed to break it.
“The school has been in the news a lot lately.”
“Yeah. I saw. I meant to ask you about that. Did you ever meet that boy who killed that girl?”
Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? Nia figured she couldn’t fault Dimitri for the assumption. Until last night, she’d also thought Theo did it.
“I did, and I doubt he did it. There’s a student who might be able to place Theo off campus at the time of Lauren’s death.”
“Might just be one of his buddies trying to cover for him.”
“I don’t think so. The student doesn’t really know him. She just saw him.”
Dimitri stood. “Well, that’s not good.”
“Why? He’s probably innocent.”
Dimitri walked toward her. Concern creased between his brows. “Because it means the real murderer is still walking around.”
21
Temps Lié [than lyay]
Connected movement. An exercise used in centre practice composed of a series of steps and arm movements based on the fourth, fifth and second positions.
Nia stood at the side of her bed and considered the man sleeping in it. His defined chest rose and fell with long breaths. He was out. She’d have to wake him. Though Peter could sleep in on a Sunday, she didn’t have that luxury. And she didn’t want to make a habit of sneaking out in the mornings.
She’d invited him to dinner last night in the teacher’s quad. After spending the day with Dimitri, she hadn’t burned with desire to see another man. But she’d wanted Peter to know that her “friend” hadn’t stayed the night.
She’d already showered and dressed, hoping the sound would stir him before she needed to leave. She’d made coffee too, but the smell of French roast had no impact on the tea drinker sprawled atop her mattress. The long hand of her clock flirted with the ten. She had to walk to the dance building now or she’d be late.
She leaned over him. The presence of another individual, inches from his face, had no visible impact. Her lips grazed his forehead. Peter moaned and reached for her. She slipped from his grasp.
“I’m sorry. I have to go to class.”
“It’s Sunday,” he whined.
“I know.”
He opened one eye and frowned. “You’re dressed.”
“Class is in ten minutes. I made coffee. I’m sorry. I don’t have tea.”
He rolled over onto his side. His legs flopped off the bed. “I gotta pee,” he mumbled.
She kissed the top of his head. “I gotta go.”
He scratched the stubble on the side of his face. “Leave the cash on the dresser?”
“I’m sorry. But I can’t be late. It’s still the first week of classes.”
Peter stood like a lazy giant, hunched posture hiding his height. “I’ll walk out with you. Let me just hit the bathroom first.”
“You don’t have to rush.”
“It’s better I leave before the students start buzzing around the hallways.”
Peter lumbered to the bathroom. She admired the muscle definition in his apple-shaped, bare bottom. The toilet flushed. The faucet ran.
He returned and fished his boxer shorts from the twisted sheets at the edge of her bed. Nia poured him coffee as he jostled back into wrinkled jeans and a crumpled shirt. The worn outfit again advertised his night as clearly as a hickey.
He smoothed his shirt. “Ready for ballet.”
“You mean ready to roll back into your own bed.”
“No. I’m up now.” He tilted his head toward his armpit. “But I need to shower.”
She handed him the coffee cup, relishing the routine of the gesture. Good morning. Here’s your coffee. I’m heading to work now. It was nice to wake up with a man.
Peter’s nose wrinkled as he sipped. She’d have to buy some tea.
“Okay. So let me walk-of-shame it on out of here, then.” He scratched his head where the hair lay matted in the wrong direction. “Want to grab some dinner tonight?”
The force of her smile fought against her cheeks. To think a couple days ago she’d thought he would reject her. Now he couldn’t get enough of her.
“Where were you thinking?” She sipped her coffee, hiding her grin behind the ceramic mug.
“I’ll cook at my place. I’ll sneak you in.” He guzzled the remainder of the drink like taking medicine and set the cup on the counter. “My RA is totally clueless.”
“I wouldn’t say totally.”
His eyes sparkled. She took the expression as a green light to offer a taste of the coming night. She kissed him. The coffee masked the odor of stale breath.
He pinched her butt. “Let me walk out with you. Then I’ll leave you to your day.”
They slipped from the door. Nia suppressed a self-satisfied grin as they swept past Aubrey’s room. There weren’t rules against RAs having sex with another consenting adult. The handbook advised discretion.
*
Nia entered the studio to stares and suppressed giggles. Aubrey stood in the center of Alexei’s gossip circle. Her presence in the group surprised Nia. The T twins had always seemed to resent Aubrey’s talent, and June hadn’t said a word to the girl since the semester’s start. Alexei clearly didn’t like her. He’d been all too eager to share stories that painted her as loose.
It didn’t take Nia long to figure out how Aubrey had ingratiated herself into the group. The girl covered her mouth and whispered loudly. “Listen. I bet she’s hoarse.”
Alexei waved as though he tried to grab Nia’s attention across a crowded street. “Hi, Ms. Washington. How was your weekend?”
The group snickered. What had Aubrey told them? Why would she be hoarse?
Ms. V cleared her throat. She admonished the group with a laser-beam look. “Ms. Washington. May I have a word?”
Overenunciated consonants broadcasted Ms. V’s annoyance. Nia felt guilty. Of what, she wasn’t sure.
She followed her boss into the office. Ms. V shu
t the door and took a seat behind a metal desk. Her expression multiplied the smoker’s lines around her mouth.
“Unfortunately, I must bring a rather uncomfortable matter to your attention.”
This was not a good start to a conversation. Nia scanned her mental database of Aubrey encounters and imagined how her actions could be mischaracterized. Had Aubrey mentioned the club? How could she without admitting that she’d been in an adult-only casino?
“I understand that you have been having a male visitor.”
The statement felt like an assault. “V-visitor?”
Ms. V held up her hand. “While there isn’t a rule against fraternization, we do expect teachers to be examples of proper behavior and etiquette. Carrying on in a way that can be heard by the students is, at best, unbecoming conduct. At worst, it’s detrimental to the well-being and safety of our students.”
Fear hollowed out her insides. It sounded as though Ms. V were gearing up to fire her. Nia thought of the pain in her heel. She still didn’t have health insurance.
She struggled to keep her tone and volume steady. “I don’t know what was said to you, but I have not behaved in any inappropriate way. I have kept—”
Ms. V again held up her hand. The way she did it dismissed rather than surrendered. “I don’t need to know the details, Ms. Washington. But you should know that our students observe their teachers. We cannot broadcast our private lives. Moreover, your behavior is interrupting the sleep of our students.”
So Aubrey was the victim? Nia burned with the temptation to spill all of Aubrey’s recent transgressions: sneaking into a club, drinking, performing suggestively on top of a bar, flirting with men twice her age, and more. But Ms. V would never believe her. The girl was the dance program’s mascot.
Nia swallowed her anger. “I am very sorry and embarrassed that anything I said while in the privacy of my home was overheard. Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. Now that I am aware, I will make certain my boyfriend and I do not stay at my place.”
Ms. V settled into her chair. “That’s probably for the best. Off campus is preferable for certain kinds of activities.”