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The others at the window slowly backed away to give her privacy, but I was riveted.
With her back to me, the music ended, and I watched, spellbound as she picked up her cell phone and chose another song. She took her position. Goosebumps surged across my skin before the opening note rang out.
She pushed herself further, her heart in every beat, every step. Splayed open, she bared her grief for the ever after that never came, the life that never was, and the dreams she laid to rest.
I rubbed a tight circle over my left pec, soothing the ache of a muscle unused to flexing.
“No, beautiful girl. Not you. You deserve every dream,” I murmured.
I knew the moment she saw me.
She danced on, never faltering, never fading, and came to a stop in front of the window at the end of the song.
I stared back into eyes that reflected the promise of heaven.
You deserve every dream.
I wish I could be the one to give them to you.
Hope
Defiantly, my loneliness exposed, I stared back at him and willed him to move. Break.
Instead, he turned and walked away.
What the hell was that about?
I gathered up my things. Frig, I wish I hadn’t played that last song. Had I seen him there, I would have chosen something else. I laughed and answered myself, “That’s what you get for letting your drama out to play.”
Sweat rolled off me as the last echoes of the music burned through me leaving half of my angst on the floor of the studio. Just as I’d hoped.
Before going back to my room, I booked the yoga room for the following night, as well as Thursday’s dance practice, then ordered room service. By the time I showered, ate, and fell into bed, there was barely a thought left in my head.
Even the memory of Nora leaving Ares’s room didn’t pack the punch it did.
Wasn’t there something in their contracts about sleeping with the photographer? Or the crew? I punched a nest in my pillow and grumbled, “If there isn’t, there should be.”
I beat Ares to the set the next morning. The time I’d set aside to connect with Brayleigh went unused. Again. Perhaps expecting a two-year-old to Facetime was a bit of a stretch.
In any case, when Ares arrived, I was ready for him.
“Good morning,” I chirped brightly.
He stood sorting all his paraphernalia out on his table and tipped his eyes up to me momentarily.
“Morning,” he stated warily.
“I’d like to see the photographs this evening.” I tapped my finger to the bow of my mouth. A nervous habit I’d tried to quell to no avail.
His face remained impassive. A brief flash of memory, him laughing with Nora, assured me he wasn’t always so. I pushed the thought away and continued briskly. “I’m exercising again this evening. Would you like to meet before or after?”
His eyes flashed with amusement. “Exercising or performing?”
“Exercising,” I bit out.
His eyes tipped up to me again. “You had an audience.”
I shrugged. “Dance is powerful.”
