A Terrible Love

by Eros, Marata

  He wants me.

  I want what Mitch offers.

  I want what I'm doing with Cas like I take my next breath. Right now, at this very moment, I feel like he's my food and drink.

  It's beyond confusing, on the total side of wrong. But after two years of avoiding intimacies like the black plague, I've suddenly found my selfish streak. If these two men can live with terms, then maybe I'd let it play out.

  “Say the words, Jess,” he tells me.

  I fight to look into his eyes. “We're friends.”

  I let the look say what else we are.

  “You're screwing him.”

  I flinch, he notices and doesn't back down.

  I flush, fighting the urge to fidget with my hands. Instead I shift in the restaurant seat.

  I don't owe him. I do. “Yes,” I admit.

  “Dammit,” he seethes.

  “So don't date me,” I say softly, praying that this will be our last date, praying that he'll wait through my unhealthy infatuation with Cas.

  “You can't just be with him,” he says.

  “I'm... I can't...” I stutter, flustered.

  “Be lovers with two men?” he says for me and I nod.

  Mitch laughs. “Oh I don't know, you're doing a bang up job right now.”

  I cast my eyes down at my salmon, a small portion the size of a deck of cards, lathered with butter and sprinkled by lemon. Exquisitely prepared. Red potatoes and fresh asparagus flank the salmon in a perfectly orchestrated arrangement of color and symmetry.

  I'm no longer hungry but Mitch leans forward, stabbing a piece of my fish and shoving it into his mouth where he chews it viciously, his eyes glittering as the candlelight sweeps past them while he levels that piercing gaze at me.

  “Well?” he asks, dabbing his mouth with his cloth napkin. His eyes hold a dare.

  I flip my fork upside down, then right side up on my plate. Back and forth, back and forth. Mitch sets his tines on top of my own, stopping the nervous motion. His brows rise in question, but he says nothing.

  I can't do this. Can I?

  “I don't know... Cas said,” and this part sticks in my throat, I feel like I choke but spit it out anyway, “he won't share.”

  Mitch grins. “Bullshit.”

  My eyes jerk to his.

  “You're telling me he's not banging every female that he wants?”

  I feel instant betrayal pour over me and I'm suddenly off-balance, almost swaying.

  I hadn't thought about it. Maybe he was sleeping with everyone? I felt the heat rush over my body and settle on the fair skin of my face again. I'd been had.

  Of course a guy like Devin Castile could have anyone he wanted. Why would he settle for a secretive ballet dancer, when he could have any woman he wanted?

  Mitch lets me think about it and sees when I decide.

  “Good,” he says. “I was hoping you'd see things my way.”

  “What about you?” I ask, my eyes searching his.

  He shrugs. “I don't need anyone else, Jess. Pretty soon, you'll get that.” He gives a disgusted sigh. “When Castile gets tired of you and throws you away, I'll be here to catch you before you fall.”

  “That's a crappy thing to predict,” I say with heat.

  “Let's just say he's got a rep and I doubt he's going to suddenly give up his swinging dick agenda for you.”

  Mitch has a point, it had been bordering on unkind but I can't dispute the logic right now. He was right. I didn't know Cas.

  My body did.

  And my body was in love. Would the heart follow?

  We ate in an uneasy peace. Had I just agreed to date two men? One who had all but told me he wanted to be with me and with me?

  Further, was I really going to be with them both?

  I watch Mitch eat with gusto. Now that he's gotten that off his chest, he is relishing the expensive supper. I shift mine around on the plate, Mitch's big bite missing from the fish staring back at me. Daring me to finish it.

  I can't.

  Should've turned tail and ran while I could.

  *

  “Again!” Boel barks at Shelby and I and we spin, dropping like clumsy cattle, our chests heaving, so out of breath were gasping.

  “Ugh!,” he says, gliding away angrily. If one can glide away angrily, it is my instructor. He's had it with us. It's so Monday, my strange weekend put away like a jacket in a closet, to be pulled out later and inspected for unseen lint.

  I had not done any barre exercises this weekend but was strangely languid.

  “Miss Mackey,” Boel began, snapping his fingers at me like I wasn't paying attention.

  Right.

  “Yes, Instructor Boel,” I say, rising en pointe then landing, rising then landing, trying to stay warm for the next move of torture that would be asked of me.

  Then he is suddenly there and I yelp. His hand grabs my thigh and I groan. I am sore and exhausted and he knows Right. Where. To. Touch me.

  “Are you working your four hours?” he asks, tightening his hold and I bite my lip.

  Shelby gives me a look of sympathy then her eyes widen.

  A hand falls over Boel's, the ebony tattoo band rises above Boel's wrist.

  “Let her go or I break it,” Cas says casually. But his eyes aren't casual, they're lethal. Serious.

  I breathe a little easier when Boel lifts his hand and turns to face him. Cas steps away and squares off with my instructor. Though he's muscular like all dancers, it's a lithe build, muscles strung taut and fashioned from many years of movement, not building. When compared with Cas, who is six feet four or thereabouts, he looks like a pony next to a thoroughbred.

  Boel's eyes narrow on Cas, beginning at his feet, they ride up to his head. Finding he likes nothing about Cas, he dismisses him. “I am in the middle of a ballet class that is not to be interrupted by anyone, understood?”

  Cas walks into his chest, looking down on Boel, who, to his credit doesn't give an inch.

  “Whoa... who's this guy?” Shelby asks.

  Who is Cas? My lover... my... I don't know. A guy I just began sleeping with? I didn't know how to quantify it and we weren't in junior high anymore. He wasn't a guy “I liked.”

  “I just began dating him....” I answer quietly.

  Shelby gives me the look. “He's gonna fuck up your chances.”

  I had thought of that, my thigh still throbbing from Boel's abuse.

  “What I understand is that you will not put your hands on Jess again. Do you understand?”

  Cas waits and Boel deliberates. Surely he sees that Cas might be a problem.

  I knew he would.

  “Who might you be?” Boel finally asks.

  I groan out loud and they both ignore me.

  Cas's eyes flick to mine.

  Oh no.

  “I'm who she's seeing, Instructor Boel.”

  Boel stares a heartbeat longer, both of us are surprised he know Boel's name.

  “You have me at a disadvantage...” Boel begins.

  “Devin Castile,” Cas says.

  Boel smiles in a condescending way. “I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you as the young man that Miss Mackey is seeing.”

  Oh shit. Shelby gives me wide eyes and I stare back, our ballet gear growing cold against our body during the altercation, my temperature drops and my body gives a small shake, becoming chilled.

  “The one I know she is dating.” He gives me a murderous glance that clearly says you could have been doing barre this weekend instead of him.

  Although that unspoken sentiment is presumptuous, it's the truth. My shoulders drop and Shelby gives me a conciliatory pat.

  Cas's brows lower over his eyes, his tattooed arm clenching, the muscles bulging in response to the tension of the moment.

  “I believe his name is Maverick. Mitch... yes?”

  I want to die. Cas looks over at me then back at Boel.

  Then he says the unexpected, “No matter who your dancer is screwing, you won't lay ha
nds on her.”

  Oh dear baby Jesus, my heart stutters in response to his words.

  “You cannot tell me how to teach ballet. You are obviously no expert.”

  Cas scoffed, folding his arms over his tight tee-shirt. “I know a thing or two about pain, Boel.” His eyes meet Boel's. “Giving and receiving.”

  Shelby gives me a considering look at that bit of strangeness.

  “And her face told me you were hurting her. Dance with her, fine, but if you touch her again... I might see fit to make dancing harder for your arrogant ass.”

  I put my face in my hands. I've so opened Pandora's box. And found Devin Castile inside.

  12

  “Jesus, Mary & Joseph,” Shelby begins, making the sign of the cross, “that guy is smokin' hot!” she yells in the cavernous communal bathroom as she mock-fans herself above her crotch and I wince at the echo. The two of us strip down to naked, my bath tote in my hand as I swing it over to my stall and jerk the spigot hard to the left. It protests in a lurching groan as hot water pours out.

  “He... like, showed Boel his ass!” Shelby pumped her fist down low then speared the air with it in a victor's pose.

  I rolled my eyes. “Right, and now Boel hates me and is going to cut me from the program.” I stand under the spray, shivering for the first instant the water hits my chilled skin. Then slowly my flesh heats and I lather the soap, getting it everywhere.

  I turn and Shelby's staring at me, mouth open.

  “He's not gonna give you the ax. You're the teacher's pet.”

  I smile, washing the shampoo out of my hair as Shelby steps underneath the spray.

  “We're not in elementary school,” I say.

  Shelby laughs. “True dat... but, I know where I stand, Mackey.”

  I startle at my old nickname-now surname coming from her mouth, blinking the hot water out of my eyes I look at her through the rising steam, our naked bodies as starved and sore as they can be.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask cautiously.

  She squeezes out a quarter-sized amount of green shampoo into her palm and carefully lathers it, working it into her hair incrementally.

  I wait then she says, “I know I can't be principal.” Her eyes meet mine. The silence that was so restful, just two dancers getting clean becomes strained. “You have that thing, Jess. That...” she made her hand waffle one direction then the other, “indefinable spark.” Shelby shrugs. “I don't. And that's okay. I'm just sayin',” she looks at me with serious eyes, “don't blow it because of a dude.” Shelby giggles into her soapy hand and I know it's going to be okay. “Even if he is a walking sexsicle.”

  I don't know for who.

  Not me. I'd pissed everyone off.

  Boel was mad because my boyfriend that was actually not, had threatened him. Mitch was mad because he wanted to be my boyfriend but I was the lover of another. Shelby had noticed my placement without words.

  And Cas could follow me by scent alone. Like a bloodhound, he was hot on my trail.

  My ballet potential lay in the hands of Boel who was moody at best, I was barely staying on top of my classes and horribly distracted by Cas.

  I'd probably ruined everything by running out of the gym while they argued, Shelby coming after me.

  We rinsed off.

  Shelby flipped her head upside down and using her towel to pat her body dry, she wrapped her hair in it last. It was such a long haired girls move I laughed.

  “What?”

  I grinned. “Conserving towels?”

  “Hell yeah. I don't want one more thing to have to wash. It's a damn hassle. Plus, the laundry room is frigging creepy as hell.” She shudders.

  Shelby levels me with a look. “We can't hide in the bathroom forever.”

  I sigh, patting my hair dry and slicking it into a bun.

  “It's like my mom says, 'better face the music'.”

  Right.

  We get dressed and walk out into the hall. And he doesn't disappoint, Boel's out in the hall, tapping his foot, eyes like steel and all for me.

  “Catch ya later, Jess,” Shelby says as she scuttles away, chancing a furtive glance at me before disappearing.

  Coward, I think. Not that I can blame her.

  My eyes shift back to my ballet instructor and he meets my gaze across the corridor. “You either agree with my methods or quit, Jess,” he states.

  I open my mouth to defend Cas and realize there's no defense.

  “I won't go easy on you.” His eyes drill mine. “I will check for muscle soreness; which should be lessening if you're working the barre as I've directed.”

  I stare at my feet.

  “That's what I thought,” Boel says, a subtle reprimand in his tone. Then he says, “Sometimes dancers need a tonic.”

  I look up with a question in my face at his bizarre comment.

  His lips twitch at my expression. “It isn't necessarily good for them. Tastes good going down, leaves them vaguely poisoned but they still want more.” His serious eyes lock with mine. He continues slowly, “The more they have the more they want.”

  Cas, he's talking about Cas... like a metaphor.

  I blink and he nods.

  “I don't want him interfering with my teaching again, Miss Mackey.” And I can tell he's thinking about saying more. When he finally does it's not what I expect.

  “Think moderation on that beverage.”

  Boel walks away, his smooth grace showcased as his form grows narrower when he moves further down the corridor.

  I thought he'd say to shut Cas out. That he was bad for me.

  It's not that Cas was good for me, not really.

  It's that he was good for the dancer in me. Ultimately, that was all that Boel gave a shit about.

  I walk down the corridor after Boel, noticing that Cas was nowhere to be seen. He'd appeared like a ghost and disappeared like one.

  He was an enigma.

  *

  I looked at the big D circled on my mid-term paper and want to burst into tears. There's no overcoming that. I obviously suck and am going to draw attention to myself because I was challenged by Biology.

  I can't believe it. There were mouth-breathing jocks in here that were acing... acing damn Biology. My eyes stray to Brock's group unconsciously then I look back at my paper. I know I'm smart, why can't I do well?

  I know why. I just wasn't through lying to myself.

  “Nice grade, dancing girl,” Brad murmured. His own paper shows a red-penned B+. I want to judo chop him in the throat. It’s worse when he grins at me. I scowl at his grinning face.

  “You know, Brad... I want to kick your ass but I know you can take me,” I sulk, crossing my arms across my chest.

  He guffaws, a real shout-out and the professor takes a break from his lecture to give Brad a look.

  Brad slinks down in his seat and covers his mouth, his shoulders shaking at my expense, his laughter barely contained.

  I listen to the lecture as my B+ neighbor takes half-ass notes.

  Yeah.

  Finally Biology is done and Professor Steuben stops me before I can escape. Brad makes a fake gun with his hand and pulls the trigger, snickering as he skulks out of class. He's always shooting me, I think as I glare at his broad departing back.

  “Miss Mackey,” Steuben begins.

  I swing my eyes back to his. “Yes?” I ask but I know.

  “Let's meet in my office for a quick chat, shall we?”

  That's one of those questions people ask you that doesn’t require a response and is decidedly beyond a suggestion. I feel my shoulders fall and he gives me an awkward pat. “It's not as bad as all that. However,” his kind gaze studies my face, “before it becomes something insurmountable, let's squelch it before it does.”

  I follow Steuben as eyes burn a hole into me. I turn, feeling someone's stare and there's no one. My class had exited and the next class was filtering in. As Steuben passes his TA, he instructs casually, “Give me ten minutes and begi
n on the review.”

  I get depressed immediately, shaking off the disconcerting feeling of being watched with difficulty.

  He opens the door and we walk in together. Steuben gestures to the seat in front of him. “Have a seat.”

  I sit.

  “What's the trouble, Jess?”

  I am hiding from my powerful and psychotic family, I'm dating two guys, having sex with one and debating another while dancing for a premier ballet troop under the unrelenting methods of Patrick Boel. I can't make a clear choice for my own benefit if a gun barrel was pressed against my head.

  Oh... nothing. Aloud I say, “I'm busy, and having a hard time with the Punnet Square.” Less is more, I tell myself.

  His brows furrow and he leans forward. “Do you need a tutor?”

  Hell no. “I think if I give it a little more attention I can make this up.”

  Professor Steuben gives a miniscule shake of his head. “I'm not sure. You'll possibly pass but I've taken the time to look over your transcripts, and you have an exemplary record--

  --I'll try harder,” I interrupt as I force every ounce of sincerity into my expression that I can, keeping my scattered thoughts at bay by the slimmest margin.

  He watches me again, gauging my truthfulness. “Then come to me when you have a question. The offer for tutorial assistance still stands, Miss Mackey. Here at the U Dub, we take education very seriously.” His gaze weighs me down and I drown, trying not to gasp for air.

  “Thank you,” I choke out. I know he means well. I just can't... have another complication added to my life or I'll scream.

  I should have just stayed in my shell where I was safe.

  It was stupid.

  I'd never know how much until after.

  *

  Carlie filed her glitter nail tips and I found myself stuffing a pang of envy, there was no way with dance that I could have the fancy nails. They looked beautiful though.

  She blew on the tips and sparkly purple dust fell softly to the creaky wooden floors of her shared dorm room. Amber would be back any minute so I cranked out my dress down by not only Boel but Steuben as well.