Dance: The Collected Series

by Charlotte Eve

§

  “What an amazing car!” I gasp as we step out through the doors to the castle that evening and I catch my first glimpse of the cherry red vintage MG, the paintwork sparkling in the early-evening sunlight. Like everything else about Dylan, this car is expensive but tasteful too. It’s just perfect; a real design classic.

  “This car is my baby!” he explains. “I’d love to have it with me in New York, but it’d just be wasted over there. And wait till you see just how fast she can go.”

  And damn - he’s not wrong!

  Before I know it, we’re zooming headlong through the winding country roads at breakneck speed, but even though Dylan’s going crazy fast, he handles the car like a pro, and I just know I’m in safe hands. In what feels like just a few seconds, we’re slowing down again, as we pull into the secluded driveway of beautiful little highland Inn.

  I’m grinning again, and shaking my head, wondering just how much more perfect this fairy tale of a weekend can get.

  As we step through the doors and into the quaint, old-fashioned inn – a cute, cluttered place full of sparkling brass ornaments, whitewashed walls and traditional black wooden beams – we’re greeted by an older woman who’s face lights up the moment she sees Dylan.

  “Mr Campbell!” she says in a strong, forthright Scottish accent. “Right this way please!” And with that she ushers us over to a quiet, candlelit table in the back corner of a secluded side room.

  “Dylan, this place is perfect,” I say once we’re seated.

  Of course it is; just like everything about him – he’s chosen the perfect place for our last night together, too.

  “Rather charming, isn’t it?” he replies with a shy smile. “I kinda wanted to tell you before we got here, but, well, my family also owns this pub, too. But I didn’t want you to think I was showing off.”

  “You’re always such a gentleman,” I grin back. “How could I ever excuse you of showing off?”

  The food is amazing – really hearty, comforting British food. Tender roast beef, creamy buttery mashed potato and delicious gravy. And after we’ve eaten, Dylan takes a moment to go into the kitchen and thank the chef, leaving me sitting at the table, suddenly left alone again with my own thoughts.

  I just can’t let this go on, I think. This is just too perfect, too romantic. How can I sit here knowing that the moment we get back to New York, I’m going to end it? No. I’ve got to say something now, the moment he comes back.

  And the longer I wait for him to return, the more nervous as I become.

  You can do this, Julia.

  No backing down.

  But as I glance up to see him walking towards the table, I feel all my resolve melting away.

  Is it really so selfish to just want one more romantic night together?

  “Everything okay?” Dylan asks as he takes his seat. “You looked kinda worried about something.”

  “No, no,” I reply, smiling sweetly despite my secret turmoil and anguish. “I’m here with you. Everything’s just great.”

  CHAPTER twenty-TWO

  It’s all so wonderful: the beautiful suite of rooms, the roaring fire, the candles, the wine – not to mention the handsome man standing here before me, the man I’ve got to say goodbye to. And it’s as if he can sense that there’s this war going on inside my head, because when I kiss him, it’s with a kind of fever – as if I just can’t get enough of him – and he takes a moment to stop and look at me curiously.

  “Hey, hey,” he murmurs. “Slow down baby. We have all night.”

  But right now, even ‘all night’ doesn’t sound like enough for me.

  I need him: so fucking badly my whole body is trembling with emotion.

  “Just kiss me, Dylan, please,” I reply, grabbing his face in my hands once again and crushing my lips against his, shivering as his tongue pushes back into my mouth and his hands cup my ass.

  I grind myself hard against him, needing to forget – if even just for a single second – what’s coming.

  “Take me, Dylan,” I urge him. “However you want. Just take me.”

  And he does as I ask, lifting me easily in his strong arms and carrying me to the bed, throwing me onto it, consumed with the same kind of animal intensity that’s flowing through me right now. In moments he’s covering me, almost tearing my dress from my body, and I’m tearing at him, too, pulling at his shirt, tugging at his slacks, just desperate to have him naked.

  And once he is, I open my legs wide for him, shivering beneath him, tracing the muscular broadness of his back – grazing my fingernails over his golden skin, crying out as he pushes himself inside me, filling my tight cunt just the way I need right now – trying to memorize everything: the feel of his cock so fucking deep inside me, the taste of his skin, the way he bucks his hips at just the right speed, the way his mouth feels as he kisses my breasts, his tongue lapping at my nipples, the way his ass feels in my hands as I urge him to fuck me even harder and deeper, harder and deeper than he’s ever fucked me before.

  I feel my orgasm building inside me, but I try to fight it, try to hold off for as long as I can – because once I come, then everything’s over.

  I can’t help it, even as he’s fucking me, I’m saying goodbye.

  “I love you, Dylan,” I gasp, cradling his head in my hands, my fingers buried in his thick, silky hair, my legs wrapped tight around him, the pleasure building like a hurricane inside me. “I love you so fucking much.”

  “I love you too, baby,” he growls, before kissing me, his tongue driving deep into my mouth, stifling the cry I make as I come so hard, my whole body shuddering and bucking beneath him, my eyes screwed closed, fighting back the tears that pricking at the corners of my eyes.

  It’s over, everything’s over.

  Goodbye, Dylan, I think as I come. Goodbye.

  §

  “I haven’t made dinner reservations,” he explains as we step back into the New York apartment, bleary-eyed from another round of cross-Atlantic travel. “But I thought we could just get something delivered? That new sushi joint you like?”

  I look back at him, standing in the middle of spacious open plan kitchen, here in this gorgeous apartment that already holds so many memories for me – and he just looks so innocent; so unaware of what’s coming.

  It’s now, Julia.

  No more putting it off.

  But I’ve been pushing it out of my head for so long, I don’t even know how I’m going to do it. I mean, what the hell am I going to say?

  Then I remember: Alex.

  I know it’s stupid. I know deep down that nothing at all is going on between them – I know it’s just a silly petty jealousy I have. But right now, I realize it’s going to have to serve another, much more horrible purpose.

  With a heavy sigh and a breaking heart, I open my mouth to say the words that nobody ever wants to hear:

  “I think we need to talk.”

  CHAPTER twenty-THREE

  “I’ve had the most wonderful time with you,” I begin, “really I have. But I can’t pretend any more and neither should you. We both know deep down that we can never really get married.”

  As I speak, I don’t even dare look at him, instead keeping my gaze firmly pinned on a patch of polished wood floor between my feet.

  “What?” he says, totally confused. “What are you even saying, Jules? This is just crazy talk.”

  I really don’t want to accuse him of sleeping with Alex, especially when I know it isn’t even true, so I decide to remain vague at first. The usual bullshit: it’s not you, it’s me.

  “Thing is, Dylan,” I continue with a sigh, “we’re just too different. It’s no use denying it any longer. Sure we can take a shot at it, make a go of things for a year or two, but I just know soon enough you’ll want someone from your own world. Someone who understands everything you’ve been through.”

  “That’s not true, Julia,” he shoots back, trying to grab my hand, squeezing my fingers urgently in his as he speaks. “I wan
t you. And come on, you know that’s just horseshit. We’ve been through so much together already. We love each other. And so what if we grew up in different worlds; we’ve got the same drive, the same desire to succeed. You’re more like me than any of those society girls that you seem to think I’d be happier marrying.”

  Damn.

  He’s not going to let me get away without a fight.

  And that’s what makes this so hard, because isn’t that exactly why I love him?

  But I fight back the urge to throw my arms around him and shower him in kisses. Instead I just pull my hand from his, then shake my head.

  “But it’s not just that, is it Dylan?” I sigh, feeling his burning gaze on me, even though I still don’t dare look him in the eye. “There’s other things too. Our careers for a start. We’re never gonna make that work. Half the year you’ll be in one country and I’ll be in another.”

  “But the contract!” he interrupts. “We’ve made it work this far, haven’t we? I thought we both agreed that as long as we were committed to each other the distance didn’t matter?”

  “That’s just wishful thinking and you know it,” I reply coldly.

  And finally, when I’ve said everything else I can think of, every damn phony excuse for us not to be together, I know it’s time to bring up my secret weapon.

  “I know about her,” I say quietly, feeling the tears prick at my eyes.

  “What?” he replies, totally puzzled.” Who? Who’re you even talking about?”

  “I know about you and Alex.”

  “What about her?” he demands, his voice rising, still completely clueless what I’m even getting at. “What has she done? Has she said something mean? Made you feel uncomfortable? Because if she has ...”

  “She answered your phone while you were in the goddamn shower,” I interrupt, hearing my voice filled with way more anger and hurt than I was even expecting; but what Dylan doesn’t know is that this anger I’m channeling is against myself, against Gloria, against this whole horrible fucked-up situation.

  “Julia, I was in the office!” Dylan insists. “We’ve got a gym in the London office. But you know that! What is this really about? Come on, you don’t actually think there’s anything going on between me and Alex, do you?”

  “I just can’t trust you, Dylan,” I say in an icy cold tone. “I’m sorry, but it’s just never going to work. I’ve got to leave.”

  I push myself shakily to my feet, the whole room swimming, my heart splintering in my chest, my eyes filing with tears. I turn to go, but a moment later Dylan’s back on his feet, trying to stop me, his hands on my shoulders, holding me in place.

  “I’m not letting you go like that,” he cries, trying to search out my gaze, even though I’m turning my head away from him. “I need you to tell me what this is really about, Jules. What’s really going on? What’s made you change your mind so suddenly? It just doesn’t make any goddamn sense.”

  “I told you,” I cry, my voice trembling with anger, “there’s nothing left to say.”

  I jerk my whole body away, wrenching myself free from his grip, then make to leave but again he grabs me, this time by my arm, his fingers gripping hard enough to shock me.

  “Let me go!” I scream. “You’re fucking hurting me.”

  “You can’t leave, Julia. Not like this. This is crazy.”

  “Let me go!” I cry again, trying to wriggle free. But it’s no use. He’s got me firmly in place.

  And that’s when it happens.

  Before I even know what I’ve done, I’ve slapped him – the loud crack of my hand against his cheek echoing out around the apartment, both of us frozen in shock afterwards, stunned at what I’ve just done.

  Finally, his eyes meet mine, and all I see in them is hurt.

  “Okay, go,” he says quietly, releasing his vice-like grip on my arm.

  I turn towards the door, heartbroken, ashamed, and devastated, and this time he doesn’t try to stop me.

  PART FOUR

  CHAPTER twenty-FOUR

  “Keep still, or your gonna mess up all my hard work!” Roxy laughs, her bright blue eyes flashing and her dyed red curls glimmering in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the kitchen window.

  “Sorry,” I reply, eyes watering from the heady mix of cigarette smoke and nail varnish fumes that are filling this little room as I sit at the table, letting Dad’s new girlfriend do my nails.

  I venture another glance down at my hand, then wish I hadn’t. Because somehow, they’re even crazier than I was expecting; a basecoat of hot pink with silver stars and love heart stickers on top.

  “Like it so far?” she ventures, catching my eye and giving me a big hopeful smile.

  And of course I smile and nod, even though I’m already secretly wondering how long I’m going to have to wait until I can take them off again without hurting her feelings.

  “So where were we?” she says. “Oh yeah, meat loaf. That’s right. Did that father of yours always eat so much damn meat loaf? I swear, if he had his way, he’d have it for every meal! But I told him, uh-uh. We ain’t spring chickens anymore, baby. We got to look after ourselves! So I’ve got him on a regime. Fish. Vegetables. A real balanced diet. Sure, I love my pizzas and hotdogs as much as the next woman, but you’ve read the news. They say bacon’s gonna kill you! Say it’s as bad as cigarettes. Whatever next?”

  Roxy takes another pause from her monologue to drag on her cigarette, then continues talking again, and by now I know just to smile and nod.

  But if you want to know the truth, I’m kinda glad I’m with her today – back at my dad’s in New Jersey for a visit, because at least it’s taking my mind of Dylan, if only a little while.

  My mind strays back to the last time I saw him. After that horrible scene in his apartment, he seemed to be everywhere. I couldn’t escape him. He was waiting outside my apartment, showing up at school, not to mention sending me an endless stream of phone calls texts and emails, each saying the exact same thing: that he was going out of his mind, that he had to talk to me, that he needed to know what was really going on.

  And don’t get me wrong, I wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth. I mean, I’ve only got so much willpower, and faced with the force of Dylan Campbell’s love, I knew that I’d crack and tell him the real reason why I couldn’t be with him.

  But I knew I couldn’t make him choose between me and his family either – or more specifically, me and his mom.

  Our relationship would never last if I did that. I’d been put in this shitty position and now I’ve got to be a bigger person.

  So I did the only thing I could think of: blocked his number from my cell.

  And, although it doesn’t make a whole bunch of sense, I’ve run back to Daddy, too. I did it to escape Dylan, to come to the one place where he won’t be able to find me, just while I get my head together and figure out my next move.

  But don’t panic – this isn’t a permanent move. I just needed a little space, and some time to decide on my next move. Just a few days to clear my head. I told Madame Lyon that it was a family emergency, and I guess I wasn’t really lying. Sure, I could’ve just told her the truth, but I’m scared that would make me sound uncommitted.

  So yeah, the short version is: I’ve run back home like a little cry-baby.

  “Ta da! All finished!” Roxy announces, sitting back proudly in her chair. “Whaddaya think?”

  I dart another glance down at my nails, then back at her, sitting expectantly in her chair, dressed in her uniform of bleached denim, a hopeful smile fixed on her face. She’s been so nice to me, and she makes Dad so happy – and I can tell that she really cares about him, too, the way she talks about him, and she’s helped him turn his life around, helping him get his new job on the construction yard – well, I guess I just can’t hurt her feelings.

  So instead I smile back at her and say, “They’re just great. Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t mention it,” she grins back
. And then her face grows serious, and I feel my heart sink. Because I can just tell that she wants to talk about Dylan again. I’ve already tried to skirt around the subject a number of times, but she just keeps coming back to it. “So if you’re no longer living with that guy with money,” she says in her usual straight-to-the-point way, “how are you gonna pay rent? Manhattan’s not exactly cheap.”

  “Tell me about it,” I sigh.

  But I don’t want to tell her the whole truth; that financially I’m a lot better off than I thought.

  You see, Dylan put all this money in my account – along with a note. It was only a couple of lines long:

  I’ll respect your wishes and leave you alone. But I don’t want your studies to suffer because of me. So here’s some money to cover your rent until you get yourself back on your feet. x

  §

  “You sure you don’t wanna come?” Dad asks a few hours later.

  I smile back from my place on the sofa, then shake my head.

  “A little dance might do you good?” Roxy adds hopefully.

  “Thanks but no thanks,” I say. “But you guys have fun.”

  The thought of Friday night at Charlie’s Tavern is not exactly my idea of fun, and anyway, I wouldn’t want to bring them down with my gloomy mood, either. They look as excited and giddy as a couple of kids out on their very first date as I wave them off at the door, then return to the beat up old sofa, ready to settle in with my Dance Moms all-night marathon.

  But no sooner have I got comfortable again than I hear my cell beeping from it’s place on the floor near my feet.

  I’d sent Nat a couple of messages earlier. I’ve been messaging her practically every day since I finished with Dylan. I haven’t told her what happened though; I don’t want her pity. I just want her to know that I’m thinking of her and that I miss her so, so much.

  So when I first hear my cell beeping, I think it must be from her.