Heat, actually.
His brown eyes were darker than ever as they met mine. “What now?”
Had his voice always been this low and rumbly? I could feel it, like a bass line thrumming through me. I swallowed again, and this time my throat worked. I drew in a deep breath. “You won’t be lifting me today,” I said,trying to keep my tone matter-of-fact. “I don’t want to injure Oakwood’s star quarterback.”
He laughed and his hands tightened on my waist. “I can handle it.”
I can’t.
I cleared my throat. “Maybe. But there’s more involved than just picking me up,” I said. “Male ballet dancers aren’t just brutes who’re good at heavy lifting. There are movements you need to learn first.”
His smile widened with amusement. “Did you just call me a brute?”
I gave a huff of laughter. His teasing was helping to put me at ease, and I was starting to get comfortable with him touching me, especially since he hadn’t run away in horror.
“I meant it in the nicest possible way,” I said, donning a sugary sweet smile that made him laugh again.
“Well, okay then.” He leaned down slightly so his face was close to mine. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
Kiss me. Touch me. Tell me you think I’m pretty.
Oh, the thoughts that went through my head were dangerous. And ridiculous. But the nerves were gone now, and I was filled with that crazy sense of freedom that comes with conquering a fear.
Maybe it was adrenaline, I don’t know. All I did know was that I was ready to dance, and for the first time in my life?
I had a partner.
NINE
ETHAN
The next two weeks were almost too good to be true. I’d finally found a place to play whatever I wanted for as long as I wanted. And I’d also found the world’s best audience. And the fact that the audience was as cute and snarky as Collette was only made my new normal that much better.
I sat in the studio with Collette one afternoon, trying to still my nerves. I could feel Collette’s gaze on me. Why I thought playing her a new song I’d been playing around with was a good idea, I’d never know. She was going to hate what I did. I was sure of it.
The sounds of my last chord still lingered in the air when I lifted my head. “So?” I asked. “What do you think?”
She was sitting on the ground before me, leaning against the floor-to-ceiling mirror, her legs stretched outbefore her. Her expression was thoughtful and slightly dazed.
I loved this look. It was the look she got every time I played for her, like she was lost to the music, her mind somewhere else. Somewhere beautiful.
I would have given anything to know what she was thinking about when I played.
She tilted her head to the side like she was considering my question. This was another thing I loved about our ‘private sessions,’ as we’d started calling them. When it came to music and dance, she never gave flippant answers. She was snarky and sarcastic about almost everything else, but when it came to the arts, she was totally sincere.
“I liked it,” she said slowly. “I love the way you slowed it down and made it your own. I’ve heard that song a million times on the radio and never realized the melody was so beautiful.”
My chest swelled with happiness at the compliment and I had to smother a goofy grin. “Thanks.”
She shifted, coming to her feet. “I think my favorite is still the Coldplay song. Will you play that one next?”
“Sure.” I knew which one she meant.Fix You. I’d played that for her the second time we’d met up and I’d looked up from my guitar to find her sitting there with tears in her eyes. I kept my head down as I strummed the first few notes.
I wouldn’t be able to make it through to the end of the song if I saw her cry again.Seeing her sad had nearly killed me, and it had taken everything in me not to pull her into my arms.
In fact, it was getting harder and harder not to hold her, touch her…kiss her like I wanted to. Touching her while dancing was one thing. Showing her how I had begun to feel was something completely different.
My fingers fumbled on the strings and I shoved that thought away.
