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Chapter 1
Scotlyn
Jaxson: We still on for tonight?
Staring down at the message on my phone, I wonder if it’s too late to cancel. I don’t know why I agreed to use this dating app. I’m not even sure if I’m ready yet. My last relationship was a disaster and wound up with me in the hospital for a week with a broken arm, two fractured ribs, more stitches than I care to remember, and him in jail.
“Answer him, Scotty.” My roommate, best friend, and fellow principal dancer at the Tumarov Theatre of Ballet stares at me like I’ve got the last slice of pineapple pizza we definitely are not allowed to have.
It’s been a year since Nick beat me for the last time, and she insists I need to get back out there and meet someone, even if I only get a free meal or drink out of it.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Libby.” The entire idea has me vibrating with anxiety.
Standing only two inches taller than me, Libby grasps my shoulders in her hands, leans her forehead to mine, and says, “If you don’t get dressed, I’m dragging you there just as you are.” Ripping the phone from my hand, she replies to Jaxson's text,and I feel sick. “Come on. You have that gorgeous black and gold off-the-shoulder that will make him eat his tongue.”
“I think you mean swallow.” I groan as Libby pulls me behind her to my room. She opens the closet doors and grabs the dress in question, and I fall in love with it all over again.
“Fine.” I grab the hanger from her and slip out of the robe I’ve been wearing while trying to decide if I’m going. His text came through three hours ago; I hope he doesn’t stand me up now.
Slipping the garment over my head, it falls to just above my knees and hugs my curves without being too tight. The fabric of one shoulder drapes down while the other remains close to my neck. The bodice has tiny gold flecks that give it a classier look but is comfortable enough to be a go-anywhere dress.
“These ones.” Libby hands me a pair of black peep-toe heels with a small bow on the back. Slipping my feet into them, she forces me down onto the bed while she fishtails my hair into a braid. I wear it up too often and too high while with the theatre that I want a change when I’m home or going out. “Just a little shadow and mascara.” Her tongue pops out of the corner of her mouth as she applies my makeup, and within minutes, I’m ready to go.
My self-doubt kicks in again, and our eyes meet when she hands me the shiny gold clutch. “I’m not sure about this.”
“A free meal, Scotty. Take it. Enjoy it. If he sucks as company, leave and forget it all. But give yourself this. One night to just forget and enjoy. He is kinda a hottie.”I remember.We’ve been messaging for almost a week now, and he’s shared some photos of himself with me, but I haven’t been brave enough to reciprocate.
Jaxson is big like my brother Saint, but he’s got light hair and these chestnut brown eyes that bare his soul. It’s why I originally answered his request to chat.
“Okay, here I go,” I murmur, walking out of our cottage to my car—a white BMW 5 series my parents bought for me when I was offered the position at Tumarov almost two years ago. I’ve traveled the country because of the theatre and have loved every show. While the competition is fierce between dancers, we also have a healthy respect for each other and our art.
After Nick, I lost my confidence. I lost my love of dance and the creative outlet it’s always provided me.
Six months ago, I was offered the lead in a timeless classic meant for royalty: The Awakening of Flora. I will dance the role of Flora, the Goddess of Spring. This will be the first time it’s been performed in the USA, and while my excitement is indeed skyrocketing, so have my nerves. Which all led to Libby setting me up on this dating app. She wanted me to relax and concentrate on something other than dancing. I’ve been so obsessed with this play over the past few months that I finally gave in.
Parking in front of the restaurant in downtown Baltimore, I take a few deep breaths before exiting and handing the valet my keys. A door is opened for me, and the bustling atmosphere nearly has me turning around. Standing at the host's station, the woman gives me an apologetic smile as she deals with a demanding customer. I smile back and shake my head. She has nothing to worry about with me.
It gives me a moment to gaze around. The atmosphere feels fancy here but not quite black-tie. People range from relaxed in dress shirts and jeans or slacks to glitzy dresses. The kitchen is completely blocked off by a wall and swinging doors. The lights over the tables are dim but not so low that you can’t read a menu or see your companion while conversing.
As my eyes roam over the customers, a man in a booth halts my perusal. Close-cropped light brown hair, a day or two worthof scruff on his face—but neat—and bulky shoulders make him stand out.
Jaxson is here, staring down at his phone so I can’t see his eyes, but I know the intensity in them will grip me in their hold when I do.
“Can I help you, miss?” The hostess is finally free.
“Oh, uhm,” I stutter out before shaking my head. “I’m here with Jaxson.” I don’t know his last name, so I hope he used his first on the reservation.
Her smile widens. “Of course, right this way.” She leads me to his table, but his head doesn’t lift from his phone until the woman clears her throat. Turning to me, she winks and walks away.
I can’t read his face as he stands; he's much taller than my five-foot-three frame andholy intimidating. I've grown up with sizeable men, but this one is huge. Larger than his picture, I think. I feel like a pixie in his presence.
We stand in front of the table for a few seconds, which feels like minutes, while his eyes roam across my body, and I would swear I can feel his touch on my flesh. Shivering, my legs begin to shake, and without thought, I drop into the booth across from where he had been sitting. He frowns before taking a seat, and I just hope that when the floor opens up to swallow me, it doesn’t take him too.
Jax
I’ve never been on a blind date before. Never had the desire to date, period. Not for many years. But my younger sister, Gracin, thought it’d be a great idea for me to be less of a caveman and more of a human. I disagree. But here I am anyways. Waiting on a girl named Scotlyn, who was too shy to send me pictures but I’d been talking to for a week. When I didn’t get her text until about an hour before our dinner reservation, I wondered if it would even happen tonight.
My mother has been texting me nonstop because she, too, has been dying to know what this girl with such a different name looks like. A throat being cleared has me placing my phone on the table and staring up at a goddess.
