by D. C. Ruins
"Oh, yeah?" Heath asked, fiddling with his spoon. "What is it? Why can't you go see it?"
Drew sighed. She knew how trivial it must sound to him, but not being able to go see Giselle was truly eating away at her. "It's called Giselle. And I wasn't going to go originally because tickets are so freaking expensive and I couldn't justify buying something that wasn't a necessity. I've been so good about not spending any extra money on stuff I don't need, so I can get that studio. Then, when I finally decided an hour ago 'to hell with it, I'm going to that ballet,' I called the box office and they said the damn thing is already sold out."
"Sold out? Really?" Heath asked, glancing over at her. "Tickets to a ballet? In one day?" He caught her expression and bit back his grin. "Sorry. No offense."
"People love their performing arts in this city," she replied, shrugging. Disappointment surged through her anew at the thought that her procrastination had prevented her from being able to go see the ballet.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," Heath said. "I can't really relate but, it's important to you and that sucks."
She half-smiled at his attempt to be comforting. "It's not the end of the world," she said. "At least this way I haven't dipped into my studio fund. Eyes on the prize and all that."
"Right," Heath said. "So that's it? The ballet?" He held up a hand. "Not that I'm sayin' that's not a big deal. Just wondering if there was anything else on your mind."
Drew couldn't help a smirk. He was trying so hard to be nice and relate to her disappointment over the ballet. She also didn't miss the way he was prying deeper into her issues, as though he knew something else was up.
Then again, he did witness you freak out on him last night, she thought. And had to feed you your meds. No wonder he's got questions.
"Drusilla!"
The impatient female voice met her ears over the distant sound of traffic and she snapped her head up in annoyance, seeing her older sister, Nik, behind the wheel of her BMW, pulling up to the curb. She was frowning, her eyes cutting back and forth between her and Heath.
Heath smiled at the name and glanced at Drew. "You sure that's not your real name?"
"No," Drew insisted. "She just does it to be annoying and/or when she has a attitude."
"Drusilla!" Nik called again. "Who is that?" She pointed at Heath, and Drew clapped a hand to her forehead. Nik's large brown eyes narrowed as they took Heath in, and as she got a good look at his face, recognition lit up in her eyes. "Oh, my—hey! My husband is a huge fan," she called to Heath. "He thinks what they did to you was bullshit."
"Uh, thanks," Heath called back awkwardly. Drew groaned in embarrassment. Her brother-in-law was a huge MMA fan and talked about Heath as though they knew each other in real life.
"I didn't know my sister knew you," Nik went on, scooting into the passenger seat and leaning out the window. "She never mentioned she had famous friends."
"Nik!" Drew hissed, glaring. "Please!"
"So we'll see you Sunday, then?" Nik went on casually and Drew was truly horrified.
Heath looked confused. "What's Sunday?"
Nik finally acknowledged her sister, shifting her eyes to her in a glare. "You didn't ask him to Sunday dinner? What is wrong with you?"
"Nik, for fuck's sake, what is wrong with you?" Drew demanded, bringing her fingers to her temples. She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt Heath's elbow dig lightly into her ribs.
"What, I'm not invited?" he asked her seriously, though his eyes twinkled with mischief.
She gaped at him. "You-you want to come?" she asked, astonished.
He shrugged. "Sure. Why wouldn't I? Your sister is expecting me."
"The whole family," Nik corrected. "Or, they will be when I tell them about this." She waved a finger. "Not just any random guy off the street is gonna hang around our little Drew without meeting the family. No offense."
"None taken," Heath replied.
"Good. So we'll see you on Sunday," Nik repeated as though Drew weren't sitting there. "I'll let her give you the details later."
"Oh, thank you," Drew said sarcastically.
"Get in here," Nik said finally to Drew. "You didn't bring me any yogurt? Jesus. Good night, Heath," she added, giving him a big smile as she slid into the driver's seat. "See you later."
"Nice meeting you," Heath replied. He rose when Drew stood up. She looked mortified.
"I'm sorry," she said in a low voice. "I'm the baby of the family, they do this. You seriously do not need to come on Sunday. Just ignore her."
"Are you uninviting me to Sunday dinner?" Heath asked.
"N-no! I mean, clearly you can come if you want, but I don't want you to feel obligated or anything…"
"I'd like to come," he said, smiling.
Drew stared up at him doubtfully. "You remember I'm Italian, right?" she demanded. "With a big, crazy loud family? We made ball-busting into an art form. Plus, I repeat, I'm the baby of the family and a girl. You don't know what they'll do to you –"
"Stop," Heath said with a chuckle. "I can handle myself. Plus, it would only make you look bad if I didn't come. Your sister just said she was going to tell your whole family she saw us together."
"She will, too," Drew said, more to herself and sounding slightly panicked as she glanced over at her impatient sister.
"All right then. Just tell me when and where," Heath said. He nodded toward the car. "You better go before she kills you or me or both of us."
Drew sighed. "All right," she said. She gave him another doubtful look. "I—we'll talk later." She tossed her empty yogurt bowl into a nearby trash receptacle and climbed in beside her sister. He grinned to himself as Nik wiggled her fingers in a goodbye wave and Drew gave him an absolutely bewildered stare before pulling off.
The cellphone in his pocket vibrated then, and he pulled it out and glanced down at the screen. It was from a woman named Rose, at the box office he'd called earlier on the way to the Y to see Drew.
"Mr. Riley," the email read. "I just wanted to personally reach out and tell you—good news! We were able to find two tickets for you after all for the Giselle performance next week. There was a mix-up with an online order and we found ourselves with a spare pair. They're in the best section of the house, too. Looks like you lucked out—we are now officially sold out. You can pick up your tickets at the box office the night of the performance. See you next week, and enjoy the show!"
Heath smiled and sent a "Thank you" reply, before tucking the phone back into his pocket and heading for the bus stop to head back to the gym.
Chapter Ten
"I'll take the deposit again tonight, B," Drew called the following evening as she quickly swept behind the counter. She grabbed a rag and wiped down the counter and hurried to the back to begin the dishes.
Bunz eyed her coolly from the counter where she was making lemon curd-filled cupcakes. "Why are we in such a hurry tonight?" she asked. "You don't teach until seven. And it's only five."
"I know, but, like, um…" Drew made a rolling motion with her index fingers, casting about for a suitable lie. "I just have some errands and such to run."
"Like working on your showcase piece?" Bunz said, lazily spooning curd into the small holes cut into her freshly baked cupcakes.
Drew sighed. She should have known better; Bunz was the closest person to her outside her family and knew her about as well, often better. She also had the uncanny ability to simply know things.
"Fine," she huffed. "I just didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to think that this means I've agreed to do the showcase. I told you I would think about it."
"But you are working on a piece," Bunz countered.
"Yes," Drew said defensively. "One, because it's a good choreography exercise for myself. Two, because I should be prepared in the event that I do decide to do it."
"You are going to do it," Bunz said. "So, I'm really not sure what more there is to discuss. But it's fine with me. I don't mind if you leave early to work on yo
ur showcase piece. Or hang out with Heath some more. Whatever."
"Oh, shut it," Drew said, rolling her eyes as she began to rinse off the dishes. "It's not even like that. He's a friend."
"Who's coming over for an Italian Sunday dinner to meet your whole entire family," Bunz said. "I know what that means."
"Yeah, it means that he got railroaded into it when Nik rolled up and started acting like she was running shit," Drew said. "He's a nice guy. What was he going to do, say no?"
"Uh, yes," Bunz said patiently. "He doesn't know your family or owe them anything. You're both grown, he doesn't need your parents' permission to date you or hang out with you or whatever it is he wants from you. He agreed to come because he wants to. Because he likes you."
"He was just being nice and didn't want to make me look stupid in front of my sister," Drew insisted. "You know how Nik is."
"Well, I certainly don't know him like you know him," Bunz said, starting pipe lemon buttercream onto the cupcakes. "Or, well, at all for that matter. But I don't think it's rocket science, my dear. The man likes you. So let him like you."
"I'm telling you, it's seriously not like that." Drew scrubbed at the mixing bowl Bunz brought over to her. "We are just friends. That's all."
Bunz rolled her big brown eyes and shook her head. "Okay. Whatever. You know, for a twenty-seven-year-old, you are irritatingly naïve."
"Your…face is naïve," Drew shot back lamely.
Bunz laughed. "Whatever. Get out of here. Go work on something awesome and make me proud in May."
Drew grabbed the deposit bag and exited the café. The bank her family used for business purposes was a couple blocks away. She made it there in record time, greeting the bank teller and made the deposit quickly. She tucked the empty, zippered cash bag into her dance bag and caught the bus just as it was pulling up across the street to go to the Y. As she settled into her seat, she felt her cell phone buzz in her pocket and she quickly pulled it out, smiling when she saw who the message was from.
Heath had sent her a text message the night before letting her know what his number was, and since then, they'd been texting each other continuously. His latest message was asking what she was up to for the evening beyond teaching her dance class. She replied that she had nothing going on beyond working on her showcase piece. She had told him previously that she probably wouldn't be at the gym very often anymore, her desire to create and perfect her piece consuming most of her free time these days. As always, he made sure she had a safe ride home secured. By now, she had no doubt that if she didn't, he would either procure a vehicle to take her home or he would spend countless hours riding various buses with her to escort her to her door to ensure that she arrived home safely. It was sort of nice to have someone that genuinely concerned for her well-being.
She wondered who looked out for his well-being. She was pretty sure he was single, although she didn't trust anyone easily. Maybe he was actually a scumbag with a girlfriend but was making her think he was footloose and fancy-free. Immediately, she felt bad at the thought. She knew deep down that Heath was playing straight with her. If for no other reason than he just didn't seem like the kind of guy to do things like see her home, buy her a late dinner, travel across the city just to bring her an item she'd left at his gym, agree to attend a family dinner—only to go home to his actual significant other. It wasn't like he was personally getting anything out of it. She knew that they were friends, but she thought that maybe he thought more of her than that. She had picked up on the way he'd looked at her at the lounge last weekend. Then again, she had been dolled up and scantily clad. She never looked like that on a regular day. In fact, that was the whole point of her appearance that night—to get attention. The owner of Cliff's had been very specific on what his waitresses and bartenders should look like. It wasn't a coincidence.
At any rate, he made her feel comfortable in a way she hadn't felt around the opposite sex in some time. She'd had boyfriends before, but only one really serious relationship that had ended shortly after graduating college. Then, last year's event had happened, and she had become a shell of her former self. Heath was the first guy outside of her family that she'd been able to look in the face, talk to, open up a little bit to, since she had gone through what she'd gone through. She hoped she wasn't being naïve as Bunz had mentioned, but in a completely different way. Her instincts told her that she was safe, but she wasn't sure if she could trust it completely. She wasn't even sure she could or did trust Heath. Certainly not completely. But she knew she wanted to. He had pulled her ass out of the fire on a couple of different occasions and while they might not have seemed like a big deal to him, to her, they meant more than she could put into words. She knew he had troubles of his own, or had had troubles of his own. She had watched him on TV like many other people had, and he had always seemed so angry—the way he tore out of the ring after winning fight after fight, how he never gave interviews, how he never walked out to any music. How he never looked into the camera when it was in his face. He still had that dangerous edge she'd recognized in him then, but that deep-seated anger seemed to be gone. She wondered what had caused the anger in the first place, although him ending up in battle against his own brother might have had something to do with it. And she wondered how he had gotten past it. She assumed therapy must have played some sort of role.
Therapy. The thought made her sigh. She had been to therapy in New York. She had given it her all, she really had, but it hadn't helped her. Granted, maybe it was her therapist; she hadn't been very impressed with the man and the fact that he had been a man hadn't really helped him gain favor with her in that time. After ten sessions he'd all but deemed her a lost cause, and she'd given up on herself. She could no longer face the city, her home, with the same enthusiasm she'd been born with. Eventually, her parents had decided a move and reconnecting the family would be the best thing for her. She knew she'd made some improvements as a result of the move, but she wasn't where she personally thought she should be. Perhaps she should look into therapy here.
As the bus jounced along, she fell deeper into her thoughts. She was self-aware enough to realize that fear of the unknown and her inability to really trust anyone were probably her two greatest issues. She didn't know how to help the former. The latter, though, would require a leap of faith. She had to start somewhere. As she considered it, an idea began to germinate in her brain that she mulled over repeatedly the way a dog worried a bone. She almost felt a panic attack at the idea, but she shook it off.
Leap of faith, she thought to herself, and picked up her phone. She typed the message out before her bravery could dissipate.
Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow? Maybe watch a movie?
Her fingers trembled as she hit the button to send the message and she immediately dropped the phone back into her lap, her fingers coming up to her temple as she squeezed her eyes shut. "What did you just do?" she mumbled to herself. She knew that for most people, this was a simple, common, ordinary exercise. People texted their friends all the time with dinner invitations. It was perfectly normal. And besides that, Heath had shown her kindness in ways she hadn't expected from anyone outside her family when they had barely known each other, and she felt an urge to do something nice for him in return.
But your own home? the frightened, rational part of her brain screamed. What's wrong with a restaurant? Her pulse picked up, and she felt anxiety climb up her throat.
Leap of faith, a quieter, stronger voice reminded her, and she took a couple of deep breaths. On the tail end of that thought, she wondered irrationally what the hell was taking him so long to reply.
A few moments later, her phone buzzed and although she hated herself for it, she scrambled to quickly snatch her phone into her hand to read the message.
Sure. Sounds good.
She exhaled a breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding, and felt a confusing mixture of excitement, anticipation, and sheer, utter panic. Her hand moved toward
her bag where her meds were stashed, but she pulled her hand back before she caught the zipper.
"Leap of fucking faith," she muttered out loud to herself.
***
"B, I can't do this," Drew said frantically the next evening. They were closing, and she had exactly one and a half hours until Heath was supposed to arrive at her apartment. "I think I have to cancel."
"Well, you're not going to do that, obviously," Bunz said calmly. "Just relax! I'm proud of you."
"I don't know how to do this!" Drew hissed. "I have never had a guy over before. I mean, not since I lived in New York before I became a basket case. What if he's a psycho? What if he robs me or tries to do something or…something?"
"He might be a psycho, to be fair," Bunz began. "But I highly doubt he wants to rob you. Your shit isn't that great, anyway. And he's been at your apartment way later than seven-thirty at night before and he's had you alone at his gym. If he wanted to do something to you I'm quite certain he would have done it already." She reached out and grabbed Drew by the shoulders, giving her a little shake. "Man up! This is a date, you should be prepared to have –" Drew gave her a murderous look and Bunz grinned. "Fun," she finished innocently. "Have fun."
"I feeling like throwing up," Drew announced. "Everywhere. Like, what do I wear? Do I wear makeup? Am I supposed to shave my legs? I literally do not know what to do. I'm twenty-seven. This is pathetic."
"I mean, you should always be shaving your legs," Bunz said, eyeing her friend suspiciously. "And, I think the makeup you have on now is fine. It's subtle. Natural. You should take your hair down, though." Her eyes moved over Drew critically. "As for what to wear, it's your house. Wear whatever you want to be comfortable in." She shrugged negligently. "Wear panties."
"B!" Drew exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips. "Not helpful."
"Okay, okay," Bunz said. "He's always been in gym clothes every time I've seen him because he's always at that gym. He'll probably just wear something like that to your place, so just wear like yoga pants and a cute loose top or something. Just be casual. It really doesn't matter what you wear, okay? Now, chill, son."