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“A friend,” I answer instantly and keep walking, acting if it's not a big deal. I do not need Corey on a power trip. I remember how anxious he was about Onyx on the first day of school. We make it to my English class and I give Corey a smile like I usually do. “See you at lunch.”
Corey nods his head, his face still masked in silence. “Yeah,” he mutters before shuffling away. My chest deflates at the look in his eyes, while at the same time, I struggle with the need to keep this to myself. Corey has many parts of me, and this one thing I share with Onyx, I want to be just between Onyx and me.
* * *
When the last bell rings,I don’t hesitate to stop at my locker before booking it to Patti’s. Onyx wasn’t at school the entire day. For some reason, the knowledge made my chest uncomfortable. I realized I had wanted to see him, expecting to find his midnight eyes from across the cafeteria at lunch, to feel that invisible magnetic pull as we passed in the hallways. All the ways he was already ingrained in my life, even though we really only had a few lingering moments between us. Harper whispered to me after lunch that she would make Corey take her home, which freed me up to leave right away. I was in my car and on my way into town without looking behind me, hell-bent on seeing Onyx.
The parking lot is full of its usual moms bringing their little dancers in and the handful of teens, like me, who are working on their choreography for the winter recital. My eyes sweep across the parking lot, but I don’t find Onyx’s car. I force myself to smile as a group of girls a year younger than me walk by. I can’t explain the disappointment I feel of him not being here.
Somehow, I manage to get to the locker room and change. I ball my clothes in my backpack and head for the studio, but my heart doesn’t feel into it. Never have my feet felt so heavy or my moves this off-balance. It’s concerning. I have never in my years of dance let myself be distracted in this way.
I’m breathing hard by the time class ends and the room clears out. I wait until the building is silent before turning down the lights and hooking my phone to the sound system. The same jazzy rhythm from Nelly floods my speakers, and soon, a little of the stress I’ve been carrying melts away. I force my mind to bend to the music, to let my body lead the way it always does and cancel out everything else around me.
Soon, my skin is slick with sweat. I can feel him before I see him. My stomach dips, my skin grows hot from where his eyes sweep over me. After the last twirl, my knees sink to the ground in my ending pose. I’m breathing deeply when he finally steps from the shadows and saunters toward me. He must have been in the studio for a while. His gray hooded sweatshirt is slightly rumpled and his dark hair looks messy, like his fingers have been tugging on it all day. Still, I don’t miss the spark in his eyes or the way his lips curl in a smile when I finally stand to face him.
“Damn, Little Star, every time I see you drop to the floor that way my stomach jumps.” He laughs slightly. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
I shrug and keep my thoughts off of how dirty that sentence sounded coming from his mouth. “You get used to it.” I nod toward the direction he came from. “Have you been here all day?”
He runs his fingers through the back of his hair, looking down at the black joggers he's wearing. “Yeah, I guess I have been. I didn’t realize it was so late already. I was hoping I didn’t miss you.”
“You weren’t at school today.” I bite my lip, hoping my words don’t come off as needy. His eyes turn a little darker, but the same smile tugs at his lips.
“Want to come see what I’ve been working on all day?”
His words are like drugs to an addict. Of course I want to know what has occupied his day, the lyrics he is probably already turning into music. “I’m really sweaty.” I grimace. I can feel the damp fabric of my bodysuit sticking to my skin.
“I don’t mind,” he shrugs, “you’re a dancer. You should see what I look like when I get off stage after a concert.”
That image alone is enough to make my throat feel dry. “Let me grab my stuff,” I manage to croak out, and motion toward my bag on the floor.
I pull my t-shirt over my leotard and grab some leggings to cover my bare legs. I flop on the floor and untape my toes and the balls of my feet before putting my socks and sneakers back on. Onyx moves around the room, grabbing my phone off the speaker and unhooking the cord. He walks over and holds my phone out to me when he’s done. I grab it from his hand, our fingers grazing in the process.
Onyx leads the way out of the studio and I hit the lights off as we exit. I follow him down to his recording area, my adrenaline pumping with excitement. My eyes trail over his back and I notice he looks tense. His right hand is spinning a pen between his fingers again. My brow quirks at the little habit he has. Much like yesterday, Onyx stations me in the room with all the expensive equipment. I’m too scared to touch anything so I perch myself on the edge of the leather sofa. The floor is littered with spiral notebook paper and a few cans of a popular energy drink. He plays around with a few of the buttons and monitors.
“Okay, it’s rough still, but I finished the one we worked on last night.” He smiles over his shoulder at me.
I push down the flare of excitement from having that smile aimed in my direction. “It finally came together for you?”
He nods and turns back to his task. “Okay, here it goes.” He breathes out the last words and I wait, silent until I hear the music start.
Chills cover my arms in the first minute of the song.
The blood in my heart races.
My chest squeezes in anticipation.
The song is everything. I can feel the rhythm in my muscles. I don’t even mean to, but my body sways and it pulls together.
“Jade.”
My eyes jump to Onyx, who’s watching me, a heated look in his eyes, his mouth slightly parted. “Sorry,” I mumble. “It’s perfect, Onyx. Really, I have goosebumps. I can’t not dance sometimes.”
His head cocks to the side, studying, watching, analyzing. “Will you meet me here tomorrow too?”
ChapterEight
Jade
