I sucked in a deep breath and huffed it out, letting the air fan the wisps that had slipped out of my top bun. I was sitting in the middle of the massive reception desk at Atelier. It was on a raised platform, made entirely of marble and wood. It overlooked the front wall, which consisted of nothing but windows staring out onto the bright street of Rodeo Drive. The clean sidewalks, brick pavement and tinted windows of boutiques across the street glistened in the late morning light. I gulped down some sparkling water, and sat back in my desk chair, swiveling around to take stock of the activity going on around me. Even though I had absolutely no plans of doing anything that had anything to do with hair, I still loved the atmosphere.

There were ten chairs lining the walls of the salon. They each had their own, three part mirror, with a dark wood trim to give it a kind of old, rustic, yet luxurious feel. There was a wooden cubby filled with styling tools, irons and a hairdryer. There was a spinning organizer filled with brushes and combs and of course, the necessary shelf full of luxurious styling products to make every woman feel their best. The entire space was filled with the buzz of warm rinse sinks, hair dryers and hairdressers chatting with their clients. They also doubled as unofficial therapists for their clients.

The door opened and a woman came in. She had long, thick blond hair that she wore tied in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were shielded by her baseball cap. She was tugging a girl who, by the looks of it, must have been her daughter. Her own hair flew all around her, a big bushy mess of curls and frizz. My eyes widened as they got closer to the desk, but I did my best to hide my expression of sheer horror. “Good morning ladies welcome to Atelier!” I said, my voice as fake as the fur worn by most of our clients.

The woman didn’t even smile. “Look, I need a chair now.”

I glanced at the girl, who wouldn’t even make eye contact.

I already knew that she couldn’t get a table now. I had every stylist’s schedule, which was remarkably regular, practically memorized. I made a show of checking my computer for slots, then looked up her, genuinely remorseful that I couldn’t solve that girl’s problem right then and there. “I’m sorry but everyone is booked up for the rest of the morning.”

The woman huffed.

The little girl’s face turned almost beet red. I wasn’t sure what she did to end up in this situation, but I knew no one deserved to be embarrassed like this. Then, I remembered Hailey had an 11:00 who always showed up late. She never started anything without a mimosa. “Wait a second honey,” I said, speaking directly to the little girl. “I think I got you.” I got up and rushed down the steps, across the lobby and onto the floor, where Hailey stood putting her stuff in order.

She turned, flipping her red hair at the sight of my approach. She took one look at the expression on my face and the unlucky match standing up at the door, and her face fell. “Oh God girl, don’t do this.”

I shook my head apologetically. “Look, I know you want a break but look at that little girl. She’s a mess.”

Hailey scrunched her nose. “She does look like shit.”

I leaned in. “Her mom is pissed.”

Hailey huffed out a breath, twiddling her hair with her right hand. “Damn. I know what that’s like.”

“Just give her a blow-out it’ll take like twenty minutes.”

Hailey sighed. “You know I like my mid-morning break.” She stared at the mother and daughter again. “But just because you asked…”

I clapped involuntarily. “Great! Thank you so much,” I ran up to the reception desk. By the time I got back up there, I realized that I was already really late for something. I told the woman and her kid what was up, and grabbed my bag. I rushed out of the salon and into the warm morning, scurrying down the street to the parking garage that housed my 2008 Toyota Camry. Even though I had ten minutes to make a twenty-minute drive, I had to stop and check what I looked like in the mirror, just to make sure my hair wasn’t a complete mess or that I didn’t smear my lipstick all over my face.

With that done, I pulled out of the parking garage and thrust myself into LA traffic, cursing myself for not being better at basic things like being able to tell time. I practically honked my horn from the moment that I got on the open road all the way until I was pulling into the office park that housed the corporate building for JP Morgan Chase. I had been waiting three weeks to get this loan interview and now I was rushing into the building five minutes late. God, my life was a mess. I ran across the lobby and slammed on the button in the elevator, sucking in several deep breaths, hoping my heart rate would fall back down. Soon enough, I had made it to Sherry’s desk and was mumbling hasty apologies.

Sherry, a woman with curly, brown hair and severe features, stood up to shake my hand and close her office door. I had first spoken on the phone with her several months ago. “Hello Ms. Abrams. Don’t worry, you just gave me a few extra minutes to check my email.”

I nodded with a tight, nervous smile on my face.

“So, I have read through your file. But can you tell me in your own words what this loan is for and why you feel like this would be a good investment?”

I nodded, sucking in a deep breath and readying myself. It was an answer I had been rehearsing with Neil and my other dance friends for the last couple of days. “So, I am a classically trained dancer. I grew up in a small town. I love my parents, but they were never really there for my brother and I-- my, my mom was a nurse and my dad was a paramedic. So yeah, they were never around. I got into dancing as a kid, and it became my home away from home. I saw a community in that studio that I didn’t see anywhere else. It got me a scholarship to UCLA. It got me out of that town. So, I guess, I’ve been inspired by my own experience and by my training to make this happen for young girls all over The Valley.”

The banker nodded. “I’ve heard they have a pretty great fine arts program at UCLA.”

I laughed, trying to ignore the sound of my heart pounding in my chest. “Yeah, they do.”

She cleared her throat, turning her gaze back on my file. “So, you have an apartment rented in your name, yes?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“A car?”

“Leased.”

“Both parents are still alive and you have a brother; Neil Abrams, right?”

I nodded.

She sucked in a deep breath and closed my file. I knew that something was wrong because of the way that she took off her glasses and cast her gaze down. I didn’t know what I had done or said wrong, but something told me she was about to turn me down. My heart had already sunk, my eyes glazing over. This was the closest I had gotten to my dream in years and, just like that…

“So…” she said, but then closed her mouth again.

I shifted my weight in my chair, waiting to hear what the next thing would be. Then she said, “I think that your idea is amazing. We’re just a little concerned with your finances.”

My chest rose and fell with a breath.

Then she said, “But let’s do this, how about you just give us some time to review your case over again and we’ll give you a decision over the phone? I’m rooting for you and your studio idea though, I want you to know that.”

My eyes widened.

Damn.

I thanked her and got up. I practically dragged myself out of that office, down the hall, back in the elevator and down to my car. My mind was swimming with worry as I made my way across town. I headed to the abandoned building where a couple of my old dance friends and I had agreed to meet. We were working on a dance for my audition video to the New York Dance Company, one of the most elite groups in the world. By the time I was parking my car in the nearly empty parking lot and hurrying inside, I had fully realized that the studio might not work out.

I shook my head, almost trying to physically shake the worries away as I entered the old abandoned building, and shut the door behind me. The sound of the heavy door closing echoed off the walls. I walked down what used to be the lobby, but was now covered in graffiti. The artists had sprayed bright colors all over every flat surface they could reach. I walked through another doorway into a bigger room. There was one wall made entirely of dusty windows that overlooked a dead garden. Seeing as I was late in getting there, my friends had already gotten themselves ready for the video. They were wearing the black leggings and leotards that we had discussed, eyes covered in black makeup, lips bare. A smile played on my face as I realized they looked exactly how I felt. But I put that thought behind me. I couldn’t let what had just happened affect me. I had to get this done.

“Jennifer, you got the camera?”

Jennifer, my tall ex-roommate, walked across to hand me the Nikon and tripod. “Thanks,” I said as I set it up. Ten minutes later, everyone was in place. I double and triple checked the positions, the facial expression, the eyes, everything down to the pinky finger placement. We ran it four times all the way through before I was convinced that it was ready to be filmed and documented forever.

“Okay,” I said, huffing out a breath. I started the music and stood back to watch the people work. They moved beautifully to my music, their bodies the embodiment of my vision. I loved this; having my ideas, my vision, my love materialize right in front of me. I was bobbing my head to the music with a smile on my face by the time it was over. My chest felt tight, my heart thudding with excitement. Dance always did that to me, whether I was watching or doing; it was impossible to frown. “All right guys,” I said breathlessly, clapping my hand. “That was gorgeous.”

Jennifer smiled. “We’re working with what we have, love.” She winked at me.

“Okay, so as promised, you are all invited to my club for free drinks.” There were collective cheers as everyone gathered their things.

Later that night, I had just about shaken off that terrible meeting at the bank and replaced it with the vision of my dancers bringing my vision to life. Since I wasn’t performing, I could actually enjoy myself. I rushed home, changed into a black cocktail dress, let my hair down and made it to the club just in time for the end of reverse happy hour. I scurried down the steps and down the hallway that led to the little basement lounge. I could already hear the thumping of the base, the excited chatter of everyone in the club and the clinking and sloshing of drinks being made and mixed.

I emerged into the little lounge, taking in the smell of the liqueur and the drink machine. I felt free, my body humming with the sound of music ringing through my bones. I waved at a couple of my dancer friends before I went straight to the bar. “A Jack and coke,” I called at Alice, the bartender.

Her thin lips stretched into a smile and she went to work, filling a glass with ice, Jack, and a tiny bit of coke. I took a sip, turning and leaning with my back against the bar so that I could get a good look at everyone. I caught a glimpse of Jennifer with a couple of my other friends a little far off, her lean frame hanging over the side of the bar.

I waved as I pressed my way through the crowd to get to her. “Hey! Thanks for coming!”

Jennifer smiled. “Thanks for having me,” she said before she surveyed the room. “This place is amazing.”

I stood there with her for a little while longer, the two of us taking in the atmosphere. I had only gotten to the second sip of my drink when I saw James walking through the entrance. My heart stopped at the sight of his tall figure and broad shoulders. His low cut hair and stubble framed the perfect, sharp features of his face. Our private conversation the night before came flooding back to me. My toes curled at the thought of getting another moment alone with him.

He pressed through the crowd, his gorgeous green eyes on me the entire time. “Hey!” I said when he finally got to me.

“Hey you,” he said, a smile on his face and his eyes making my heart race.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He turned after he had ordered himself a drink, and stood next to me, leaning against the bar. I tried not to get distracted by the fact that our arms were touching. He shrugged. “You see, I left something here last night… and I was hoping I could come pick it up.”

I smiled. “What did you leave?”

He stared right at me. “You.”

I blinked, but took a sip of my drink to try and keep my cool. “Oh really? How do you know I didn’t want to be left?”

He shrugged. “I can see it in your eyes,” he said, smiling at his own joke.

I laughed at him, hoping that I wasn’t blushing. “What’s gotten into you, James Paris?” I asked. I had known him at least for the last three years since he met Neil at business school, and this was only the first time we were both really looking at each other.

He rested his arm on the bar top, making sure there were mere inches between us. I caught a whiff of his cologne; something woodsy with a hint of pine. God it smelled so good. I could feel my palms getting hot and sweaty under his impossible gaze.

“I dunno.” He took another sip of his drink as the song changed.

Our eyes met again as he put his drink down. He shifted his gaze from me out to the crowd of people dancing on the chairs, by the bar, around the coffee tables, in the booths. “Do you wanna dance?” He asked.

I smiled at him. “You realize who you’re talking to?” I asked as he leaned into me. “What are you trying to get into?”

He nodded. “I know exactly who and what I’m getting into, and I can’t wait.”

I wasn’t expecting this from him, to just turn up at my club out of the blue and ask me to dance. But if there was one thing I’d figured out about him—was that he wasn’t a predictable guy.

My smile grew wider as I put my drink down on the table and let him lead me to a spot on the floor far away from the bar. It was in a little space in between the booth and the stage. It was darker there, more private. I gazed up at him as I let my hips sway to the music, feeling a little liberated in the fact that we didn’t actually have to talk to each other in that moment. The next thing I knew, we were touching. He rested his hand on my hip like it was the most natural thing in the world. I pressed my chest up against his, feeling his hips grind against me. His body swayed with me and the music. I gazed up at his face, taking in every perfect chisel, the way that his strong jaw set, the way he stared down the line of his wide nose at me. I caught the lines of his arms; strong, hard, sturdy. I couldn’t stop the way my heart pounded in my chest, the way that my skin was covered in goosebumps, the way that I could go completely off the grid with him.

I was lost in his scent and his body. I couldn’t stop the way that my knees went weak when he pressed me against that wall, the way that I gasped for breath when his hands explored my body, his fingers clutching at my dress, my skin. He bent my knee, hitching it on his hip as we continued to sway to the music. I clutched onto his long-sleeve t-shirt, my hands exploring his body as we kept moving. Our lips were so close, all I had to do was reach a little more and he’d be kissing me. As the song ended and another one started, I kept my eyes locked in his. I could tell by the shadow in his green gaze that he was into me too. His lips were parted, ever so slightly, as he stared down at me. His grip was tight and unwavering.

Then, just when I thought I was going to die of anticipation, he reached down and took my face in both of his hands. He pressed his lips against mine. My body whimpered at his touch, my heart fluttering in my chest. We were grinding against each other, our hips moving as one as he slipped his tongue just inside my mouth. I sucked on his tongue, his lips. I couldn’t get enough of him. His hands found their way to the back of my head, my hair entangled in his grip as he massaged my scalp. He slammed me against the wall, his hand slipping under my skirt. I rubbed his crotch, feeling him harden in my grip. I could barely breathe, or hear, or think. He was the only thing that existed in that room, on the planet, and I didn’t know what was happening to me.

My head leaned back. My neck stretched as I felt his fingers rubbing me on the outside of my panties. I pressed him a little harder, getting the outline of his cock. My mouth watered because I could feel how big it was through his pants. I sucked in a breath as he sucked on the skin of my neck, practically massaging me with his mouth.

Just when I thought I might climax just from the sensation of that tongue on my neck, the lights dipped. There was no question what that meant.

“I think the show is about to start.” I groaned. We couldn’t keep doing this, I was still reeling from the shock of what nearly happened.

He let out a dark chuckle, planting another kiss on my lips. “Let’s give them a show.”

I laughed. God he was so sexy. “No no. Come on, I wanna see this one.”

“You know it like the back of your hand. Let’s get out of here.” He said, kissing my hand.

My eyes rolled back in my head as I wondered how it was possible that a human could be so irresistible. But then a thought came crashing down on me, almost like a memory I had buried deep. I had to stop this. I wanted him. Holy crap I did. But not now and not like this. “Come on.” I said. “Buy me a drink.”

He smiled at me, and then nodded. “Let’s go to the bar.” He said, clearing his throat.

As soon as I had another Jack and coke in my hand, I wrote my number on a napkin for him.