In the Air (The City #1)

by Serowka, Crystal

  I grabbed my gym bag from the front of the studio and heard a voice I didn't recognize over my shoulder.

  "You don't look like Juilliard material today."

  I looked up at the mirror in front of me, and saw Natalia's friend behind me.

  "Listen, I don't have time for any bullshit right now." I threw my gym bag over my shoulder and started to leave.

  "My bullshit? By the looks of you this morning, I'd say you belong at an AA meeting, not Juilliard."

  I turned to her with a look of repulsion. "I don't know who the hell you think you are or why you think you know anything about me, but you need to back off," I demanded. I turned away from her and walked through the auditorium, but she followed, heavy on my heels.

  "My name is Kingsley. I'm Natalia's roommate."

  I stopped, turning back to her. "I care because ... ?" My journey to the elevator continued.

  "I can see the way she looks at you. She gets serious bedroom eyes," she called out.

  Kingsley's admission made me stop walking. Suddenly, I was interested in what she had to say. "You've been rooming together now for what, two whole days? What could she have possibly told you about me in such a short time?" Trying to hide my curiosity, I added, "I'm sure you have no idea what you're talking about."

  "I know that look when I see it." Her lips perked up, showing a devious grin.

  "I bet you do," I said as I motioned to her half-naked body. "I'm sure you give that look often." My head was throbbing, and listening to this girl's voice made it feel as if it were about to detonate. I walked through the elevator doors and Kingsley rushed in before the doors closed. "Why are you following me?" I looked at her, noticing the similarity in our heights, and waited for her answer.

  "Don't be so full of yourself. I have somewhere to be."

  The elevator descended to the first floor in silence. I was thankful the altercation had ended. I exited, Kingsley still trailing behind me.

  The weather outside was warm for September and the mugginess intensified my hangover. I spotted Natalia standing near the building and headed in her direction.

  "Natalia, please tell your friend to stop following me like a lost puppy."

  Natalia looked at us both, unimpressed, and started walking away.

  "Seriously, you're not going to help me out?" I yelled after her.

  Natalia turned around and looked at me, daggers shooting from her eyes. I was surprised my body didn't collapse from the effect. "Help you out? Here's a tip: your pants are too tight. It gives the wrong impression, and since you're already a ballet dancer, you're going to start turning the wrong heads."

  Kingsley cackled wildly after hearing Natalia's response and walked away.

  I groaned. "Can we talk?" The hurt on Natalia's face was apparent. I stepped a little closer to her to bridge the distance.

  "We already tried that in class. It's not getting us anywhere," she responded.

  "I just want to make sure we're okay."

  The laugh she gave was not pleasant.

  "We're great." I noted the sarcasm pouring from her.

  I stepped forward to reach for her arm, but she backed away. "Are you okay?"

  "If you're referring to my ass, it's bruised, but I'm fine." Her tone remained short.

  "Natalia, I already told you that I'm not good at apologies and I just don't want you to think that it was something more than it was. We had a moment and I couldn't control myself." Excuses rolled off my tongue. I hoped they weren't transparent or else she'd hear that I didn't want to pull away. I wanted the kiss to last all night. My lips still stung from the electricity I felt when they were pressed to hers.

  "Nice, Samson. I really have to go. Let's just keep our conversations limited to our rehearsals. Okay?"

  I watched her walk out of sight and knew I had just made the situation worse. I'd never met a girl that got under my skin so quickly. I didn't like the way she seeped into my pores and set up camp in my head. I needed to come up with a way to halt all of these emotions before the situation got out of hand.

  After the conversation with Natalia, I needed to sleep off the frustration that was growing inside me.

  Just as I stepped into my dorm room, my phone began to vibrate. Looking down at the screen, I contemplated not answering Aubrey's call. Her smiling face filled the screen and remorse filled my body. I took a deep breath and answered, preparing myself for the next several minutes.

  "Hey, Aubs." Silence. I looked down to make sure I had pressed the right button. Nothing. "Are you there?" My room was dimly lit, the curtains still drawn from last night.

  "I shouldn't be," she answered quietly. "But if I waited for you to call me, we'd never talk."

  "It's been a really long morning, Aubrey. Can we not do this right now?" I removed everything but my pants and wrapped the sheets around my exhausted body.

  "I'm calling to let you know that I'll be in New York this weekend. My father is having a benefit. You know how I don't like to let Daddy down, so I expect you to be there with me." I didn't understand why Aubrey continued to call him "Daddy," considering she was older than twelve.

  "Can I get back to you about this? My head is killing me and I need some rest before my next class." Knowing I'd possibly see Aubrey's father this weekend didn't help.

  "If you didn't drink so much, you wouldn't get headaches all of the time." Aubrey nagged. If we were having this conversation face to face, she would have her arms crossed and her feet tapping loudly on the hardwood floors.

  "Look, I don't drink so much."

  "If you say so, Samson. Get back to me within the next few hours about this weekend."

  "I'll call you later. Enjoy –" I heard a click. Once again, silence. My girlfriend had become the Queen of Hang-ups.

  Every woman I've come in contact with these past few days is sucking the life out of me.

  Before I drifted into a deep sleep, I remembered dancing with Natalia. Her movements had a way of manipulating so much emotion out of me. If she only knew how much control she actually had, she could easily have me begging just to be near her.

  What a fucktard. I mean, who comes to class hung over on the second day?

  After the confrontation with Samson this morning, I'd decided to make my night an enjoyable one. I really needed to get away from all of the pretentious assholes at Juilliard, so later that evening, I hopped on the train and headed to more familiar surroundings. It felt good to be back on my stomping grounds, even though I'd only been away for a couple days. Tonight, I had on my red "fuck me" skirt, my black bustier top, and my favorite leopard print high-heeled boots. To most people, I was sure I looked like a streetwalker, but I'd never given a shit about what people thought of me.

  When I walked into The Commodore, the best bar in Brooklyn, I saw my favorite bartender manning the bar. He made the best drinks and because he wanted me, he made mine extra strong.

  "Well, if it isn't Kingsley in the flesh. I haven't seen you around these parts in awhile." Brad looked me up and down, mesmerized by what he saw. He'd been trying to get into my pants ever since he first laid eyes on me two years ago.

  "I started school a few days ago. It's crushing my soul." As usual, the bar was packed, and I grabbed one of the last stools near the end of the bar. "I need a shot."

  I started coming to this bar when I was sixteen. Young, I know, but I had a lot of older friends.

  The first time I showed my fake ID to Brian, the doorman, he looked at me and started laughing. "This is obviously fake, but since you're hot and will probably attract some customers, I'll let you in. Don't make me regret this."

  My beautiful relationship with the bar grew from that day forward.

  "Jameson?" Brad held up my favorite brand of whiskey. When it came to liquor, he knew exactly what I liked.

  It was only 11 P.M., but the bar was packed from wall to wall. After my third shot, my soul reappeared. With liquor in my system and the high I got from the music blaring from the speakers, the d
ay's stress vanished quickly.

  "Hey, pretty thing. Can I have your name?" A voice asked from behind. I could already tell by his lame pick-up line that he wasn't going to be a looker. I turned in my barstool and saw that I was right.

  "Why? Don't you have your own?" I asked, annoyed. I started to turn back around, but he grabbed my arm.

  "Sassy and beautiful. Where have you been all my life?" With the way this man was slurring his speech. I hoped Brad had already cut him off.

  "Hiding from you." My eyes stared icily into his. "If you don't let go of my arm, I will remove it. For good." I angled my eyebrow up at him, daring him.

  His grey eyes glossed over as he looked at me scornfully. "Well, aren't you a rude young lady?"

  "If I throw a stick, will you leave?" With my question, the sorry bastard accepted defeat and walked away with his tail between his legs.

  "Nice way to deal with an asshole. Maybe you should write a book."

  The voice was gorgeous. I detected an accent, but couldn't pinpoint it. I turned to my left and saw a guy, leaning against the bar. His hair was dark, almost black, neatly styled, reminding me of the 50's. He had tattoos peeking out from under his shirt. I was practically salivating.

  "Maybe I should. Only if you promise to buy the first copy." Biting my lip seductively, I waited for him to look up at me. When he finally did, his eyes were dark and mysterious.

  "Would you autograph it for me? Write a special note inside?" His smile widened when he took me in. His eyes traveled up my legs, over my chest, and finally onto my lips. When our eyes locked for the second time, a tremor ran through me. I wish there was a fan nearby. I need to cool myself off.

  "Anything you want." I licked my lips slowly, which attracted his gaze.

  He held out his hand to me and I noticed the tattoos across his fingers spelling out love. He's sexy and romantic? What have I done to deserve this?

  "My name is Wren. Can I get yours, pretty thing?" He laughed lightly, mocking the asshole that had just hit on me.

  "Beauty and wit. This must be my lucky day." I shook his hand and the attraction flared. "My name is Kingsley." Without letting go, he lightly stroked the inside of my wrist with his thumb. "I noticed your accent, Wren. Where are you from?"

  He dropped my hand and picked up his drink to take a sip. I was already feverish from this man, but the way he licked his lips after taking a sip was going to give me heatstroke.

  "I'm from South Africa but have lived in the States for five years. I'm a student at NYU. What about you, Kingsley?" He slid the barstool closer to mine. His hand found my wrist again and began lightly stroking the inside of it. "What's your story?"

  His knees hit against mine and I had to stop myself from caressing his thigh. This man was so gorgeous it would take zero effort for him to get into any girl's pants. If he asked me to get naked right in the middle of the bar, I would have happily obliged.

  "How about a drink first?" I motioned for Brad and ordered two shots of Jameson. When they arrived, Wren's hand left my skin, leaving it aching. I downed my shot, watching Wren swallow his at the same time. I noticed the black and white rose tattoo that peeked out from under his collar. "How many tattoos do you have?" I wondered just how much of his skin was covered in sexy ink.

  "Quite a few. All over my body." His tongue left his mouth and licked the outside of his full lips. I imagined his lips wrapped around my earlobe.

  This may have been the longest conversation I'd ever had with a potential sex partner. I felt my entire body needing a release. I could tell Wren wanted me just as much as I wanted him, so I went on to make the first move.

  "I'd like to see," I stood up from my barstool, smoothing out my mini-skirt, "all of them."

  He was silent for a moment before he smiled. "I think I'd be okay with showing you all of them." Wren stood up and I noticed how much taller he was than me, even with my heels. Finally, a man whose ego wouldn't be bruised by my height.

  I led the way to the bathroom in the back. I knew it wasn't the most sanitary thing, but I couldn't wait much longer.

  As Wren and I entered the bathroom together, I locked the door behind us and prepared myself for the screaming I would be doing in a matter of minutes.

  Three days had passed since the kiss I'd shared with Samson. I wasn't even sure if I should consider it a kiss. Yes, his lips were on mine, technically, but then he pulled away seconds later. I liked it, but not how it made me feel afterwards. Every rehearsal since had been awkward and our only conversations were about dance techniques. From the moment I'd first laid eyes on him, he was like a virus I couldn't seem to kick.

  I'd been cooped up in my dorm room the past three hours, contemplating my days here. Before my father died, he told me it was his last wish that I send my audition tape to Juilliard. At first, I laughed.

  "I can see the administration watching my audition and laughing at me." I told him.

  "Nat, you need to do it. I believe in you."

  "You really think I'd make it?" I asked hesitantly.

  "You're the best dancer I've ever seen. Don't tell your mom that." He laughed, pulling me into his chest and giving me his crushing bear hug. His encouragement was the one thing that convinced me to follow my dreams. I was here for one reason. Somehow, thoughts of Samson kept deterring me from focusing on those dreams.

  Deciding to get some air, I grabbed my purse and headed out. Just as I turned the knob to leave, Kingsley burst in. I jumped back to avoid getting hit in the face by the door.

  "I can't believe it. You're actually leaving this dreadful room?" She sashayed past me, dropping her bag on the floor. "Don't tell me you're meeting Samson."

  I was already so used to Kingsley's assumptions, that by the second day I was here, it had stopped bothering me.

  "No, I thought I would go get some coffee and work on homework. Like you said, this place is dreadful." I wanted to be alone, though I knew I should probably be a good roommate and invite her. "Would you like to join?" I asked half-heartedly.

  She laughed and then immediately became serious. "Go to a coffee shop and do homework? Do I really look like the type?"

  "No, actually. You look like the type that would have an afternoon filled with random hook-ups."

  "I've only known you for a few days, but I think I like you already. We should make best friend bracelets."

  I loved Kingsley's sarcasm. Her personality was refreshing and kept me on my toes. Before walking out, I faced her with my own sarcastic smile. "I'll add that to my calendar."

  New York City was so different than what I was used to. Mount Prospect wasn't a small town by any means, but the city life had me feeling like a brand new person. I stepped outside and inhaled the air. As I exhaled, I felt weightless. Before coming to New York, I researched places I would have to visit while living here. The typical landmarks, of course, but I also wanted to visit places referenced in my favorite movies and TV shows. I reached for my phone to find a nearby coffee shop and saw that Cafe Lalo was only a mile away. It was featured in You've Got Mail, and since that was one of my favorite movies, I had to visit.

  I felt my purse vibrate. Digging out my phone, I saw that I had missed a call from home. My heart grew heavy remembering the times my dad would call to check up on me. It wasn't long ago that I was sitting in the uncomfortable pleather chairs, reading three-year-old magazines, waiting for my dad to finish his chemotherapy treatment. The day he lost his battle to cancer, I lost a piece of myself. Not having my father around for the past year had been extremely hard. Now, with it just being my mother and me, I had to stand up to her by myself. I hadn't figured out how to do that yet.

  "Hello, Natalia. I've only talked to you once this week. Your dance teachers must be keeping you very busy."

  Immediately, I became irritated. She couldn't even ask how I was doing. "I have been busy. As a matter of fact, I'm on my way to a cafe now to do some homework."

  "You mean you're not in the studio practicing? Honey, it's S
aturday morning. You should have been practicing for at least two hours already."

  I was tempted to hang up, but knew if I did that, the tension would become thicker than it already was. "Mom, I have other classes outside of dance." I stated. My mother didn't understand the rigorous schedule I was faced with my first year. I was completing a four-year degree and at the end, I'd receive my Bachelor of Fine Arts. Since I was getting a degree, it was a requirement for me to take courses outside of dance, ones that focused on writing skills and verbal expression. Even though it was just two Liberal Arts courses I took for the year, my mother believed it would completely take away from the nine classes all centered around dance.

  "I don't understand why you didn't just audition for the Milwaukee Ballet School. If you had, you would have been accepted and able to focus on only dance." The sternness in her voice grated in my ears.

  "You'll never be happy with what I achieve in my life, will you? Even if I would have gone to Milwaukee, you still would have found something wrong."

  "I always told you that dancers don't need degrees. If you're good, you'll get into a company."

  Her comment fueled my anger. "Mom, I have to go. I'm at the cafe and it's loud in here. I'll talk to you later. Bye."

  As usual, my mother found a way to make me feel as if I was stupid for wanting more. I missed having at least one supportive parent.

  I climbed the steps into Cafe Lalo. The inside was just as immaculate as the outside. My eyes immediately went to the expansive glass display, filled with every pastry you could ever want. The brick walls were adorned with colorful paintings throughout the cafe. All but one table was taken, and I grabbed the leather nailhead chair, just as another couple was coming across it. "Sorry, table's taken." They each gave me dirty looks and stormed off. I was already becoming a good New Yorker.