by Jayne Frost
“Miles. We’re going to be late if we don’t—”
She froze, her eyes bouncing between Miles and me. She was his thing. Emily. His assistant.
I managed a little wave. And she smiled back. Which made it worse, since she’d never smiled at me before.
“Give me a minute, Em,” Miles said, his eyes never leaving my face.
She nodded, backing out of the room like she was on eggshells while I tried to melt into the marble floor.
Suddenly, I felt small. Like a child who’d tried to play with the grown-ups and failed miserably. The bags were too heavy in my hands, and my finger too light without Mama’s ring. Proof that I’d had a someone too. Once.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I lost track of time.”
“Gelsey…”
I waited for him to say something else. To tell me I was an ungrateful brat. Impossibly rude. But he didn’t. He just stood there rubbing the back of his neck.
Voices floated from somewhere else. Daryl’s first, then Emily’s. Then nothing.
“You’d better go,” I said, my face about to crack from the pressure of maintaining my smile.
Miles hesitated for a moment before nodding jerkily. “Have a good night, Gelsey.”
He turned on his heel, and he was gone.
I pulled my knees to my chest as I turned my new phone over and over in my hand. It was the only smart purchase I’d made during my ill-fated trip to the mall. With the discounts, I’d only spent thirty bucks. And now I had my own data plan with unlimited talk and text.
And a new number. One that no one would recognize if I called.
I scrolled to my contact information, my thumb hovering over my dad’s picture. He was probably screening his calls, so I was stressing over nothing. If he answered, though, it would mean he was only screening me. My calls.
Did I really want to go there?
Biting my lip hard, I hit the button, then slowly lifted the phone to my ear.
My dad answered on the second ring.
“This is Chris.”
Surprise stole the breath from my lungs. And not the good kind. But then, when was the last time a surprise had been good?
“Dad,” I croaked.
Silence. Deafening silence. I’d never known the meaning of the words until they threatened to shatter my eardrums.
“It’s Gelsey,” I added stupidly. Like it would make a difference. And he’d remember he had a daughter. Because in that moment, that’s all I wanted.
A sigh rumbled across the line. And there was so much defeat in that tiny exhalation, I could feel it all the way to my bones.
“Gelsey. I’ve been meaning to call you,” he said, his tone resigned, like he’d been caught. “I just…I didn’t know what to say.”
Anger flared, a million responses coiling around my tongue. But I held them all back. If I could be small, unobtrusive, forgiving…maybe he wouldn’t hang up.
“That’s fine,” I rushed to say. “It’s okay. Really.”
The absolution left a bitter taste in my mouth. He didn’t deserve it. But it wasn’t about him. It was about me. For a few minutes, I needed to know he was there. Listening.
“I’m staying with a friend,” I continued brightly. “Not really a friend, but…”
Watching the clock on the dresser, I babbled on, trying to pack every detail of the last days into a few sentences. At the two-minute mark I paused to take a breath, my head spinning from the lack of oxygen.
There was no response from the other side, just the hum of the engine. Had he put the phone down?
I swallowed hard. “Daddy? Are you there?”
“Yeah, sure. Listen…” Tears pooled as my dad struggled to find the words. He cleared his throat, and I knew I’d lost him. “Everything sounds really good, Gelsey. Really good. But I have to go.”
Smothering a protest, I nodded. “Okay, Daddy. I love—” The line went dead, and the numbers on the clock inched forward. Three minutes. “—you.”
And I did. As much as it pained me to admit it. Pressing my forehead to my knees, I let the phone slip out of my hand, wondering why it was so hard for him to love me back.
Miles
Daryl coasted to a stop in front of the gate. Flashbulbs lit up the interior of the car as he rolled his window down and took his time with the keypad, so the freelancers could get the money shot—Emily and me in the back seat. Close but not too close.
Slumping against the door, I let it happen. It was too late now, anyway. Taryn’s contact at the Statesman had already taken our picture as we exited the Alamo Drafthouse. By tomorrow, People Magazine would pick up the non-item, and the press would shift their focus to Emily and me.
And next week when Emily attended Taryn’s birthday bash at the Parish Bar with her boyfriend, our story would die a swift death, since I’d be there too.
The perfect bait and switch with a twist.
“I thought the whole idea of us going out was to be seen,” Emily mused as we started down the long driveway.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She shrugged. “That was the shortest date in the history of dates. I barely got to finish my popcorn.”
Daryl met my gaze in the rearview mirror, and I narrowed my eyes with a mind-your-own-damn-business warning glare. Whatever he thought he knew, he was wrong. I hated crowds. Despised publicity stunts. That was it. Nothing more.
“It did the job,” I muttered, digging into the muscles of my thigh when we jerked to a stop inside the garage.
My terse reply earned me a glower from Emily, who grabbed my arm as I reached for the door handle. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”
I blinked at her, surprised. “Of course not. I just…”
What?
My sour mood went beyond having to endure a few photos. Maybe I wasn’t used to the attention anymore. But it was like riding a bicycle. In public. In my underwear.
“I’m sorry, Em. Didn’t mean to be a dick. I’m just tired.”
It was a piss-poor excuse. Because, what did I have to be tired from? I didn’t do anything.
Emily searched my face, and whatever she found there was enough to satisfy her concern, so she let me go.
Taking her hand, I helped her out of the car. For the first time all night, I really looked at her. Dark hair fell in loose ribbons past her shoulders, the tips a deep shade of purple that matched her eyes.
“You look pretty, Emmie,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
Her lips twisted into a smirk. “I didn’t say anything when you started calling me Em. But I draw the line at Emmie. It sounds like one of the gold statues they give the soap opera stars.”
“Fair enough.”
Popping up on her tiptoes, she kissed my cheek and whispered, “Thanks for the date. Let’s never do it again.”
I laughed. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“It felt like I was on a date with my brother.” She brushed off the front of my shirt, then patted my chest. “Also, I’m expecting a big bonus at Christmas time. Cash works.”
Frowning, she eyed the beefy security guard conversing with Daryl next to the rented Town Car. “I don’t suppose you’d let me—”
“Nope,” I replied, anticipating her request. “He’s going with you.” I rolled my eyes when she continued to pout. “I’m giving you a week’s vacation, all expenses paid, at a five-star resort in Galveston. With your sister. And you’re looking at me like I ran over your cat.”
“I know.” She toed the concrete like a petulant child. “But why does he have to come with us? I don’t even know him.”
If Emily had worked for me during the height of my fame, she wouldn’t ask. And I was too tired to explain. “Because I said so.” Taking her by the shoulders, I spun her toward the car. “Now, stop giving me grief and go. Have a good time. Don’t get sunburned. I’ll see you at the party next week.”
She let out a sigh, dragging her feet as she trudged toward the Lincoln.
I made eye contact with the bodyguard as she ducked inside, my stone-cold gaze resolute.
Anything happens to her, and I’ll kill you.
He must’ve gotten the point, because he tipped his chin at me before sliding behind the wheel.
I watched the taillights fade into the night, then headed inside while Daryl did his usual grounds check.
Pausing in front of Gelsey’s door when I heard music, I raised a hand to knock. But for what? It was ten o’clock at night. Anything I needed to tell her about Emily could wait until morning.
As I turned to leave, a little sniffle drifted from inside the room. And another. And then a sob.
“Gelsey.” I rapped lightly. The music stopped, but she didn’t answer, so I knocked louder. “Gelsey!”
Light spilled into the hallway as she peeked from a small slit in the door. Only one eye was visible, puffy and red-rimmed. And her cheek was blotchy.
“I didn’t know you were home,” she said, shifting her feet. “Was the music too loud?”
I laughed, despite the band tightening around my chest. “I’m a drummer. There’s no such thing.”
A weak smile ghosted her lips. “Okay, then. Did you want to talk to me about something? Or…”
Or held so much promise.
An invitation to taste her lips. Or run my fingers through her tangled locks. Or kiss away the tears staining her cheeks and ask her why they were there.
She opened the door a little wider, looking bewildered and so damn sad. In another life, I wouldn’t have noticed. Hell, in another life, I wouldn’t have cared.
My gaze flicked to the bed, then back to her face.
“No,” I said, taking her hand. “But I do have something to show you.”
Gelsey
I let Miles lead me through the dark house. I hadn’t forgotten about Emily or their thing.
But I was an adult. And we were friends. I could push any silly little crush I had aside.
Real friends were rare. Something to be cherished. I should know, since I only had one.
At the bottom of the stairs, I cut right, toward the den. But Miles went in the other direction, and since our fingers were twined, I had no choice but to follow.
“You want to work out?” I asked with a laugh when we got to the gym.
He pulled me through the door, and I stumbled, colliding with his chest. His crisp citrus scent enveloped me. And he smiled that damn smile. Even in the sparse light, I could see the dimple.
Miles reached around me and flipped the switch on the wall.
“Maybe later.”
Blinking against the sudden brightness, my hand flew up to cover my eyes. As my vision adjusted, the breath left my body in a rush.
The distressed hardwood was gone, replaced with the gray vinyl we used at the dance company. Mirrors surrounded me on all sides, a waist level barre attached to the longest expanse. The Nautilus equipment was still here, but closer together, inhabiting roughly one-quarter of the area.
It looked like…a ballet studio.
Miles slipped behind me, dipping his head to speak in my ear. “Do you like it?” Dark eyes locked onto mine in the reflection. “I mean, is it right?”
Right? It was perfect.
“Yes,” I breathed. “But how?”
“The construction guys were already here tricking out the pool house.” He walked around, bouncing on the balls of his feet to test the resistance. “I figured this was probably better for my leg anyway, right?”
“Right.”
I discreetly wiped a tear on the shoulder of my sleep shirt. Don’t make more of this than it is, the little voice inside my head warned. But it was too late. Because this was more. This was everything.
“But, why?” I asked.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Miles gazed around at this thing he’d done. This grand gesture. And then he smiled down at me. “Because you needed it.”
It sounded so simple. And maybe for him, it was. But still, it had taken some thought. A phone call. Or a tiny bit of planning. And he’d done it all for me.
I rubbed my forehead, my knees weak. “It’s so much.”
Too much. But it’s not like I could tell him to take it back.
Lacing our fingers, he dragged me over to the barre.
“Try it out,” he said, sliding behind me again, his palms molding lightly to my hips.
My hand coiled around the wood, and my heart swelled. “It’s real,” I whispered. Maybe to myself. But Miles answered with a laugh.
“Of course, it’s real. Now show me something.”
He stood back and crossed his arms over his chest, gnawing on his bottom lip. Anticipation shone in his eyes, like he was waiting to witness something spectacular.
But I wasn’t spectacular. Not this kind of spectacular. I was just me.
“Wait,” I said, slowly releasing the barre. “Just…give me two minutes.”
Miles wouldn’t know a plie from a pirouette, but still, I wanted to give him my best dance. Something beautiful that he’d always remember. So I raced up the stairs to get my bag.
When I got back, Miles was on the floor, reclining on one elbow. I took a seat in front of the mirror and quickly slipped on my pointe shoes. Miles watched with rapt attention as I went through a brief warmup.
“I need some music,” I said when I finished. “Do you have your phone?”
He wrangled the device from his pocket with a raised brow. “Sure. But I don’t have any classical.”
“What about ‘Blackbird’? Do you have that?”
Surprise painted his features. And that’s just what I wanted. To surprise him with a dance of my own creation. If I did it right, he’d remember it forever. The feeling. The flying. And the hope. And if I did it wrong, well, he wouldn’t know the difference.
“Yeah,” he said, sitting up straighter. “I’ll put it on the sound system.”
While Miles scrolled through his playlist, I moved into first position, my breath choppy under a current of nervous energy.
Closing my eyes, I waited for the music. And when the opening note drifted from high above, it lifted me onto my toes. Usually, it was just me when I danced. My partner, and even the other dancers, were just props. But I felt Miles in every movement. His eyes on my body as I told the story of a little bird who learned to fly on broken wings. Fast and slow, and high in the air, I wove the tale. Spinning into a series of pirouettes, I ended the dance with four revolutions, then sank to the floor with my head bowed.
I stayed still, wringing the last bit of magic out of the moment. When I heard Miles push to his feet, I waited for him to break the spell. With a word, or a gesture.
Instead, he eased down behind me.
His arm circled my waist, and my heart sped up, then fell into time with his. And just like that, he was part of it. The heaven between where the dance ended, and reality began.
Miles
Long moments passed with nothing but the feel of Gelsey in my arms. The smell of her hair, and the rise and fall of her chest. I feared she might fly away if I released her. Because she could. I’d seen her. And I knew I’d never separate the girl from the dance again. Not after tonight.
So I sat quietly the way I used to after a show. When the stage lights had dimmed and it was just me behind my kit. On top of the world. Only Gelsey was there now. And here, too.
“Tell me something no one else knows about you,” she said, her voice a soft whisper.
I thought of all the things I kept hidden. Dark thoughts. And darker intentions. The lure of nothingness. And the fear that one day the clouds would return and block the sun forever.
Tightening my grip, I let her warmth seep through me. “I like ballet.”
Gelsey
Shannon waited until the waitress brought our food to toss the issue of People on the table. The magazine slid toward me, a glossy photo of Miles and Emily in the bottom right corner of the cover.
Crossing her arms over her che
st, she pointed to it. No words. Just a raised brow.
When I couldn’t take any more of her scrutiny, I broke eye contact and dug into my salad. “We’re just friends.”
It came out quieter than I expected, and I recalled what Ivan always said about lies and whispers and how they went hand in hand.
Miles and I were friends.
The morning after I’d danced for him, he’d explained about Emily. The plan his publicist had thrown together. It had worked, too. Four days later and the photographers barely noticed my comings and goings. They were too interested in trying to catch a glimpse of Emily. Ironic, since she was hundreds of miles away, soaking up the sun in Galveston.
“Why do I get the feeling there’s more to it?” Shannon asked as she unfolded her napkin.
“Because you have a dirty mind.” Smiling, I batted my eyelashes playfully.
“And your mind isn’t dirty enough.” She pointed her fork at me, lettuce hanging off the tines. “Miles Cooper is fuck hot. Tall, dark and oh so handsome. Plus, he’s got that brooding thing going on. Bet he’s great in bed.”
My cheeks flamed because I wouldn’t know. I’d never know.
Friends.
Miles and I had spent a lot of time together over the past few days. Movies and meals and late night dips in the Jacuzzi. But he’d never tried anything. Our touching was confined to the pool where I made so many adjustments during our sessions, just to feel his skin under my fingers, that he probably thought I was crazy.
He doesn’t like you like that.
My stomach churned at the thought, and I chewed my lettuce slowly to keep from swallowing so I wouldn’t have to reply to Shannon’s comment.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” she chided. When I shrugged noncommittally, she rolled her eyes. “And here I thought he’d be the one to swipe your V-card.”
I choked, bits of cucumber flying out of my mouth.