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I was in trouble.
“What—what are you doing here?” I gawked, smoothing the loose strands of hair around my face back behind my ears, just to give my hands something to do.
“I came to see you,” he replied, matter of fact like. “Nice place.” He let his gaze wander away from me and took in the small studio. One wall was completely taken up with the mirror and barre. The opposite wall, by the front door, had dozens of hooks for each student to place his or her bag and coat. I had a small desk in the corner, with an ancient computer, and a dinged up file cabinet. Both of which had been donations to the teacher before me who had started the studio several years earlier.
“How did you even find me?” I asked, ignoring his compliment. My southern mother would be horrified.
He shifted his dark eyes back to me. “I was hanging with Bennett, he called your girl, Tori, to meet up with us at this bar off the strip. When she got there, I asked where you were and she told me about this place.”
Our bury-the-hatchet conversation from that morning had apparently flown right out the window. I was going to kill her.
“Well, I’m sorry that you came all this way, but I was actually on my way out,” I said, sweeping my keys from the edge of my desk.
I made a move to sidestep him, on my way to the front door, but he stepped in sync with me, blocking my path. “Come on, Ev, don’t go running off. Show me around.”
He was too close, his body too warm, his cologne too enticing.
I stepped back and turned away long enough to take a deep breath and steady myself. Ryker strode across the room and stopped in front of the display case that housed all the ribbons, trophies and certificates that my students had earned in different competitions or shows over the years. The top shelf was where I stored some of my own most prized ribbons, and as I watched Ryker’s eyes move to read them, a smile spread across his lip. “Wow, very impressive.”
My cheeks flushed. “Thank you.”
Ryker turned back to face me and pocketed his hands. “How long have you been dancing?”
“Since I was little, my first official ballet class was right around five.” I relaxed. Talking about ballet soothed me, and with Ryker, it helped to take the focus away from the sizzle between us that was becoming impossible to ignore. “And, it just stuck, I guess. I think it was in my blood or something, even though no one else in my family was a dancer.”
Ryker nodded, and a spark lit in his eyes. “Show me,” he said, flicking a glance towards the barre.
I gaped at him. “You want me to dance for you?”
He nodded and my stomach clenched. I’d danced in front of hundreds of people, but the idea of dancing, in the studio, alone, for Ryker was more unnerving than any audition I’d ever gone to.
“I couldn’t,” I replied, shaking my head.
“Yes, you can, Everlie. I’m an audience of one, how hard could it be?” He dared me, a mischievous half smile on his face. “If it helps, you can pretend I’m not even here.”
Yeah. Right.
I was about to leave, to walk out and tell him if he wanted to see me perform, he’d have to come to my next show—assuming I’d got one anytime soon. But something shifted, and against all odds—and probably my better judgment—I realized I wanted to dance for him, to show off, to make him see that side of me.
“All right. You get one track, and then you have to go home so I can close up,” I bargained.
“Deal,” he agreed, his smile growing. “Where do you want me to sit?”
I pointed to a chair on the opposite wall, wanting to put plenty of space between us. When he was seated, I went to the stereo system, selected a track from the last show I’d performed in. It had been over six months ago, and I’d had a small part in the ensemble, but had been an understudy for the lead, and had practiced the solo dances just as much—if not more—than the real lead, in case I needed to go on. The music started soft as I walked to the center of the room. Ryker’s eyes were trained on me, dark, and hungry.
I caught my cue, and began the routine. The song was about a lost lover, and was an incredibly beautiful piece of music, but it was very slow, almost mournful, which lent to long, sweeping motions. I lost myself in the song, remembering the performance, putting myself into the mind of the character. The background faded from my mind. I was no longer in a shabby dance studio in the middle of a poor, Nevada neighborhood. I was a beautiful prima ballerina, on a grand stage, telling the sad story with my body. I would leave every eye wet with tears, and at the end, the crowd would be stunned into silence for a full minute, before erupting with applause. They would throw roses and call me an inspiration, moving and meaningful.
When the song came to a soft finale, and faded out, I struck my final pose, arms overhead, and after taking a long, slow breath, opened my eyes to find Ryker staring at me, the smile had fallen from his lips, and his eyes were wide. After a beat, he stood and applauded. I curtsied and gave him a small smile, but he remained serious.
“Wow. That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, his voice so quiet it barely reached me. “You’re incredible, Everlie.”
My heart raced and I knew it had nothing to do with the dance I’d performed. Ryker had transformed once again, showing me a different side, and I couldn’t help but get drawn into him. My mind, alight with curiosity, wondered what else was hiding behind his hard, chiseled exterior.
“Thank you,” I replied, with a graceful nod. “It was a piece from the last show I was in.”
“Thank you for showing me. That was…unexpected, but in a very good way.” He paused and for a moment, I wondered if he wasn’t sure what to do. He was always so sure footed and confident, as though every room he walked into was his to command, but in the silence that fell between us, there was a peek of awkwardness to his motions as he crossed to the front door. “Can I walk you out?” He asked, pausing at the door.
I wrung my fingers together for a moment, considering his question. Then nodded. “Uhm, sure. Let me get my bag.”
