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Dances with Monsters

Page 10

by D. C. Ruins

"It's not a problem," he replied simply, and effectively ended her protests. He stared ahead during the ride while she opted to look out the window, but he saw in the large rearview mirror at the head of the bus that she turned to look at him a few different times.

  When they finally reached her neighborhood, he walked beside her quietly down the street to her building. The streets were peacefully quiet, but he knew it wasn't particularly safe for any woman to be walking by herself so late at night. He followed her to the entrance of the building, silently insisting on walking her to her door again. When they reached her front door, she turned to face him.

  "Well," she began, playing with her keys. "Um. Thank you, Heath. For dinner, for seeing me home. For…helping me out."

  He looked down into her face and felt his insides working strangely. He felt a tingling heat in his chest and adrenaline creeping through him. It was all a very foreign feeling to him, but not altogether unpleasant.

  "You're welcome," he replied. He jammed his hands into his pockets and took a step back, preparing to wish her a good night and beat his retreat, but he started in surprise when he felt her small hand reach out and take hold of his forearm. His eyes flew to her face as she stepped closer, and he froze when he felt her arms go around his torso tentatively. He was shocked, mostly because he'd picked up that she had a thing with personal space, but she was hugging him. Then he shook himself and slipped his arms around her in return. He felt her cheek press into his chest and he hoped she couldn't tell his heart was beating erratically.

  He wondered if he was making her comfortable with physical closeness, or if she was trying to repay him for the night, or what her motivation was. His mind whirled in confusion when he felt her give him a tiny squeeze before stepping back. She met his eyes, her own bold but shy. She dropped her arms and his hands found his pockets again as he cleared his throat and flushed slightly.

  "Good night," she said softly. He nodded wordlessly, unable to form words, but waited in the hallway until he heard her locks slide into place.

  He headed down the stairs and out of her building, heading back to the bus stop. He leaned against the shelter and sighed deeply, feeling a strange, alien emotion creeping through him. It was confusing, disarming, and uncomfortable. As he inhaled and her scent lingered in his nose, he realized it was also amazing.

  Chapter Nine

  Heath arrived at the gym early the next morning as he always did to get in some training before opening for business. He also made a habit of making a circuit of the gym to ensure that everything was as he left it from the night before and there hadn't been any break-ins or anything else untoward that had gone down.

  As he rounded the corner of the ring past the punching bags, he noticed a small object in the center of the ring. As he got closer, he saw that it was Drew's small prescription bottle of medication. He stepped into the ring and leaned down to scoop it up.

  "Shit," he muttered. How had they overlooked that last night? What if something happened to her during the day and she needed them?

  He glanced at his watch. It was six-thirty. He figured she might be up this early, but he wasn't sure. He shuffled back to his office and pulled out her file. He dialed the phone number she had listed, but received an automated message that the number he'd dialed was no longer in service.

  "Well, shit," he grumbled to himself and tossed his cellphone on the desk. How had getting her phone number escaped him over the past several weeks? He'd have to try and drop them off to her later today; he just hoped she wouldn't need them until then. He figured that if she had an emergency, she would call the gym to check to see if she'd left them there. He decided he'd try to leave at lunchtime and drop them off to her at the café.

  ***

  The day proved to be extremely busy, and his original plan of slipping out during lunch time to drop off Drew's medication went out the window. It seemed that his schedule of private lessons and training had grown exponentially, and he found himself dealing with client after client. He barely had time to stop for a meal himself. However, Drew hadn't called about her medication, so he assumed she was okay for the time being.

  He finally left around six and headed for Bloomfield. He figured his first stop should be the café. He wasn't sure what time she usually got off or what time they closed but it seemed like a logical place to start.

  When he arrived and pushed through the door, he saw that it was as empty as it had been the last time he'd visited, but this emptiness felt like a "getting ready to close" emptiness versus a midday lull. The bell over the door tinkled and after a moment, Bunz came out from the back.

  "Oh, hi," she said. "Sorry. I should have locked the door—we're pretty much closed up for the night." She gestured behind her to the disassembled espresso machines with their various parts spread neatly on towels on the counter, freshly cleaned and drying. "I can't make you a drink or anything."

  "No, that's ok," Heath said quickly. "I was wondering if Drew was around?" He pulled the medication bottle from his pocket and held it up. "She left these at the gym last night. I wanted to get them back to her earlier, but the gym was crazy today."

  "Oh," Bunz replied, fixing her gaze on the bottle. She met Heath's eyes and a look of understanding passed between them. "Well. No, she's not here. She left a little early to go drop off the deposit at the bank, then she said she was going to the Y."

  "She doesn't teach tonight," Heath said, but it came out like a question. "I thought she taught on Wednesdays."

  "She does," Bunz confirmed. "She went to work on her piece for the showcase. I know she thinks I don't know she's working on something, but I do. Anyway, she seemed a little stressed out today and said she was going straight to the Y after the bank. You can probably find her there."

  "I can just leave these here with you," Heath offered.

  "Or you can take them to her at the Y," Bunz said pointedly, smirking. "Just call her and let her know you're coming."

  "I don't have her number," Heath replied.

  "Haven't you escorted her home like, twice now? And she's at your gym every night," Bunz pointed out, leaning on the counter.

  Heath shrugged helplessly. Bunz shook her head and withdrew a piece of paper from underneath the register, jotting a number down and then slid the scrap over the counter across to him.

  "Won't she mind that you're giving out her number?" Heath asked, taking the scrap and tucking it into his pocket.

  Bunz shrugged. "It's not like you're a perfect stranger," she said. "And frankly, I don't care what she wants. I want you to have her number." She smiled pleasantly.

  Heath smirked back at her and nodded. He turned to go then stopped and looked back at Bunz. "She say why she was stressed out?"

  Bunz studied him knowingly. Heath got the feeling that she knew everything about him and Drew. "Well, a number of reasons, I'm sure. I understand she had a bit of a late night last night." She lifted a brow at him before continuing. "She got some mail she wasn't particularly happy with but wouldn't tell me what it was. And, she's upset that her favorite ballet is coming into town and she can't go see it."

  "What ballet?" Heath asked. "Why can't she go? She working?"

  "Tickets are just really expensive and she can't afford it," Bunz said. "I would have loved to get her tickets but I'm just a broke college student."

  "She said you paid for her entry fee for the showcase, by the way," Heath said. "Good work."

  Bunz smiled. "Yes, well. I knew she never would have done it if I hadn't. But that was most of my free money, so now I'm reduced to eating Ramen again." She shrugged negligently, but he could tell she wasn't being serious.

  "You seem like a good friend," he replied. "Well. I guess I'll go look for her at the Y, then." He turned and headed for the door, then turned back, his hand on the knob. "What's the name of that ballet?"

  Bunz glanced at him sharply, and smiled with something like approval. "It's called Giselle," she answered. "It's next Thursday. At the Benedum. It's at eight
o'clock. Oh, and her favorite restaurant is Elements, which is only about a five-minute cab ride from the theater." She smiled so innocently that Heath couldn't help chuckling.

  "Duly noted," he replied. He lifted his hand in a wave. "Thanks."

  ***

  Drew was breathing hard, sweating, and glaring at her reflection in the long mirror that covered an entire wall of the studio. She stalked over to the stereo system encased in a small wooden entertainment center to restart her song.

  She had several ideas for her showcase piece, but when she started a new project, she liked to let a few different songs move her to see what struck her. She'd been working on this latest piece for almost an hour, just letting her body and training take over, pushing her conscious thought process to the back.

  The opening strains of "Ride" by Lana Del Rey seeped out from the machine and Drew stood still for a moment, her eyes closed. As the singer's haunting, melodic voice flowed around her, Drew began to move, her eyes still closed. She let the notes, the voice, the melody control her movements as she moved around the room. Her muscles strained from fatigue, but she refused to be tired. She pointed her toes sharply, her thigh muscles aching as she forced her legs straight up in controlled grande battements, her calves tensing as she pushed up en pointe, turning pirouettes and fouettes. The emotional words flooded through her body; the song was melancholy, the singer begging a lover not to leave her as she sought her own freedom on the open road. As the music and lyrics reached its climax, Drew leapt through the air, each leg extending sharply in front of and behind her.

  "I'm tired of feelin' like I'm fuckin' crazy/I'm tired of drivin' 'til I see stars in my eyes/I look up to hear myself saying baby/Too much I strive/I just ride."

  For a moment Drew's conscious mind left her although her eyes opened to watch herself in the mirror. Her dance was strong, emotional; she hadn't danced like this in a long time and she observed her own body, lost to the control of her muscles and emotion and training, moving to a song that evoked great emotion within her. It was nothing she'd rehearsed or worked out prior to this exact moment. She was just moving but it made sense; she was telling a story with her body. Her story.

  As the song ended and she came to a gradual stop, she was amazed to see that she was crying. She studied her reflection in the mirror, seeing her eyes glistening with tears. One slipped down her cheek as she stared at herself, her chest heaving from her exertion but strangely, she didn't feel tired at all anymore.

  A movement reflected in the mirror caught her eye, from behind the window that peeked into the studio. She whirled around and was shocked to see Heath standing in the window, watching her with something like amazement on his face. She quickly brushed the backs of her hands over her cheeks and moved to the door, pulling it open. She was embarrassed; she typically never danced for anyone except her students, and even then, it was just exercises, techniques and easy recital dances. No one she knew personally had ever seen her dance with true emotion and passion like this for a long time, and it made her slightly uncomfortable. Moreover, she couldn't recall a time where she spontaneously, unconsciously began crying during her dancing.

  "Hey," she said uncertainly, praying all traces of tears were gone from her face. "What are you doing here?"

  "I came to bring you your meds," he replied, pulling the bottle out of his pocket and holding it out. "You left them at the gym last night."

  Her eyes widened as she took the bottle. How could she be so irresponsible? You're lucky nothing really happened today, she chastised herself. She nodded up at him.

  "Thanks," she said softly. "You came all the way out here just to drop off my medication?"

  "I didn't know if you'd need them or not," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. Drew was touched, and again felt amazement at how nice and thoughtful he could be.

  "Listen," he started, staring into her studio. "I don't know anything about your craft. Dance isn't something I've ever been into before, or ever had a reason to pay attention to. But that, what you just did in there—that was…good. Really fucking good." His cloudy blue eyes met hers and were filled with genuine appreciation and he gave her a half-smile. "I think you just made a believer out of me."

  Drew smiled, his compliment making her feel humbled and touched. "Thanks," she replied quietly. "That really means a lot to me." She held up the medication bottle. "And this. I can't believe that you came out here to bring it to me." Heath shrugged and averted his eyes.

  "No big deal," he said.

  "Are you heading back to the gym?" she asked.

  "Yeah," Heath answered. "Eventually. I feel like I practically live there. It's nice to get out once in a while."

  "Well," Drew said. "If you're not in a huge hurry, do you want to grab some frozen yogurt? I owe you for the sandwiches and now for bringing my meds. My sister is picking me up in about forty-five minutes, so, maybe you could wait with me?"

  He glanced down at her. "You don't owe me for anything," he said, "but yes. I'll wait with you."

  "Okay. Let me grab my things." Drew turned and reentered the studio. She quickly crossed the springy wooden floor to the sound system and unhooked her cell phone, from which she played her music, and trotted back over to her coat, bag and shoes lying on the floor underneath the double barre that spanned the length of one wall. She pulled off her dance footies and stepped into a pair of old, woolen and suede boots, tucking in the hem of her black yoga pants, and she quickly threw her vegan leather jacket on over her leotard and ripped T-shirt. She added her scarf and shouldered her bag and exited the studio, turning off the lights as she let the door fall shut behind her. Heath followed her out of the Y and out into the drizzly evening.

  She pulled her scarf over her head and walked down the sidewalk, staying as close to the overhanging awnings over the businesses lining the block as possible. Her favorite yogurt place was just down the block. Heath sauntered along behind her, his baseball cap pulled low over his face and the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up. Drew had a feeling that it had more to do with the many stares of recognition he drew and less with the weather.

  "Do you like frozen yogurt?" Drew asked to be conversational, pushing into the small, brightly lit shop. There were only two other customers there. The scent of sweet yogurt filled her nose.

  "Sure," Heath replied with a shrug. "What's not to like?"

  He followed Drew's example, grabbing a cardboard bowl bearing the company's name and logo around the sides, and moved toward the soft-serve yogurt machines. He opted for a simple, low-fat vanilla and added a little granola and a variety of fresh berries. Drew gave him a scornful look and filled her cup with her favorite flavor, chocolate peanut butter cup, and proceeded to add chopped Oreos, crumbled Reese's peanut butter cups, raw chocolate chip cookie dough, and a drizzle of chocolate syrup. Heath couldn't help chuckling. She took his bowl from his hand and set it on the scale at the register along with her own, and pulled her wallet out.

  Heath held out a hand. "Wait a minute, now," he began.

  "Hush," Drew shot back and handed the cashier some cash before taking her change and tucking her wallet away. She removed their bowls and handed Heath his. "Here's your boring yogurt, sir. I said it was my treat."

  Heath smiled and swirled his spoon around. "Thank you. It would probably look more like yours if I wasn't training," he reminded her. "Trust me, when it comes to food, I hate my life lately."

  "I don't blame you," Drew replied. "Mine is definitely going to be way better than yours." She pushed through the door to head back outside and took a seat on the wooden bench just outside the shop, under the awning. She glanced at Heath, who was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hunched over his bowl. "Is this okay?" she asked, realizing he might not want to be outside. "Sorry, I was just thinking how much I love the rain and the smell. We can go back inside if you like."

  "No, I'm good," Heath said, taking a spoonful of yogurt. "I like the rain, too." They ate their yogurt in silence for a bit, D
rew enjoying her treat as well as the cool rain and the earthy smelling breeze that accompanied it. Heath spoke up again.

  "You're a hard person to track down," he said lightly.

  Drew pulled out of her reverie and glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

  "I tried to call you about your meds. The number you listed on your gym application said it was out of service." Heath swirled a berry in his yogurt before popping his spoon in his mouth.

  "Oh, yeah," Drew said uncomfortably. "That. Well, I haven't had that phone number for a few months now."

  "I figured as much," Heath said and reached into his pocket. "Your girl at the café gave me this." Drew took the scrap from his fingers and saw that it was her own phone number written out in Bunz's large, bubbly handwriting. "Hope it's ok," Heath went on. "I promise I'll never call it unless you say it's all right." His lips pulled up in a gently mocking smile.

  Drew returned it. "It's fine," she said. "You should send me a text or something so I have yours, too." She felt awkward saying so; she hadn't discussed exchanging numbers with a guy in a very long time. In fact, she couldn't recall the last time she had done so.

  "Your friend also mentioned you've been having a rough day," Heath added, spooning up some more yogurt. He didn't look at her. "You want to talk about it?"

  Drew sighed and popped a giant spoonful of her concoction into her mouth before answering. No, she really didn't want to talk about it, but she knew her weak story from the other night hadn't really done anything to provide any solid answers; answers she knew that Heath sort of deserved. She didn't feel like telling him about the official letter she'd received in the mail today. It would only depress her further and bring up a whole round of questions she didn't want to deal with at the present moment.

  "Just life, stressing me out," she answered lightly after she swallowed. She felt his eyes on her then and knew he wasn't buying it. "And on top of that, my favorite ballet in the history of the world is coming to town and I can't even go see it."

 

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