Page 51 of Lost & Found

I lifted hopeful eyes, and he shook his head. With a chuckle, he said, “Kinsley has extra leotards and tights in the office. I’m sure we can find something in there.”

“I couldn’t. She will need those…”

“We’ll take them home and have them laundered. I’ll bring them back tomorrow. She won’t even have to know. Our secret?”

I put my hands on my hips. “We don’t keep secrets. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the basic family rule?”

“Then we’ll rush straight home and tell her all about it. I can’t see her getting upset. In fact, I’m surprised she didn’t stick around.”

“That would be because I bribed her. I promised to let her take me dress shopping.”

“You in a dress? Hmm…interesting.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I’ll need one for your friend’s wedding. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” I eyed him nervously.

He sensed my anxiety rising and sauntered over, but then stopped short of touching me. My heart caught in my throat.

“I haven’t,” he offered. “Come with me and I’ll show you her stash.”

I sighed but followed him. His strong, confident strides matched the rhythm of the music playing in one of the rooms. I couldn’t help but admire his form.

The muscles of his back were defined and powerful. Broad shoulders that tapered down at the waist. His body was magnificent. He had a raw intensity about him, even in the way he walked, each step fluid and graceful.

What I wouldn’t give to trace the lines of his back with my fingers. Without warning, the artist in me conjured up new ink for him. It wasn’t entirely my fault, but once it started, it leaped into a fantasy.

One in which he lay face down on my tattoo chair on a night similar to this one. The front door locked, leaving us alone. I imagined my hands on his skin and nearly tripped over my own damn feet.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I had no idea what to do with the gamut of emotions that churned inside my stomach. My heart raced as he opened the door, and I stepped into the shared office. One side screamed Kinsley, with her favorite color highlighting several areas on her desk. His was a stark contrast, more like the sleek, masculine side of his bedroom.

Don’t think about that.

“Get it together,” I murmured under my breath.

“What was that?” he asked. Something in his smirk made me realize I’d spoken louder than I should have. Damn him.

He walked confidently toward the lockers on the far wall. Once more it was easy to tell Kinsley’s from his. Stickers adorned the outside, painting a smile on my face. God, I loved her. She hadn’t gotten an opportunity to go to real school, so this was probably the closest she’d ever come to decorating one.

“The locker rooms are across the way. I’ll meet you in studio B.”

I nodded, thankful for a moment alone. Turning my attention to the locker, I hesitated for a second, scanning the array of pink leotards and tights. A sense of apprehension fluttered in my chest. Of course, my girl wouldn’t have a black one on-hand.

The best I could do was a faded one that was almost gray. It seemed less girly, if a leotard could be described as such. Grabbing them, I went toward the locker room. I slipped inside the small changing area and quickly shed my street clothes to exchange them for the leotard and tights.

I pulled the tights on, feeling decidedly more uncomfortable for no reason at all. The material clung to my skin uncomfortably.

For fuck’s sake, this isn’t the first time you’ve worn tights, so stop acting like it.

I was unsuccessful, no matter the amount of internal rage I had going on. And maybe it was that which caused the next mishap of the night. My fingernail went through the delicate material. I stared stupidly down at the hole and cursed under my breath.

Yanking them off, I tossed them to the side. They were more trouble than they were worth. I pulled my phone out and dialed Kinsley. She answered on the first ring.

“Hey, is everything okay? Aren’t you supposed to be dancing?”

I let out a frustrated sound, and my words tumbled out in a stream of complaints.

“Okay, don’t kill me, but I managed to ruin a perfectly good pair of tights. You’d think I had no idea how to put a damned pair on with the stupid hole I’ve poked in it. And can you please tell me why you hate black so much? Not a goddamn single black leotard to borrow. Plenty of pink ones, though, and purple.”