Evangeline
My eyes blinked open, and I felt nearly as tired as I did when I finally fell asleep last night. With a heavy sigh, I rolled onto my side. Big red numbers on the alarm clock screamed at me.
9:18.
Crap.
Double crap.
I had booked time in the dance studio at ten. I’d be late even if I managed to get ready and out the door in the next fifteen minutes. I jumped out of bed, and cold air hit my naked form like a brick wall. A rush of uncomfortable memories taunted me. Jeered at me.
My stomach bottomed out. Flames licked at my cheeks. My knees wobbled, and even supposing I wanted to pretend like last night didn’t happen, my first step shattered the illusion. I was deliciously sore in all the wrong…or right places. I couldn’t decide which. My sleepy brain scrambled for a way to rationalize what had happened between us.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about him. It doesn’t matter.
The clock ticking, I yanked a t-shirt over my head and ran out of the room. Ten minutes later, I was dressed with my dance bag slung over my shoulder and rushing toward the front door. I skidded to a halt when I noticed Gian sitting at the long walnut kitchen table, scrolling through his phone.
My heart stopped for a second then lurched into gear, beating double time, fueled by my already frazzled nerves. I’d counted on not seeing him for a day or two, or at worst until tonight. He was normally long gone by this time of day. Now that I thought about it, though, I’d seen him more in the last three days than the entire previous week.
“Where’s Tony?” I kept my voice monotone all while silently begging my face not to blush.
It wasn’t like I’d never hooked up with a guy and had to face him the next day, but it happened infrequently enough that I felt decidedly awkward. I didn’t know where to put my hands. I didn’t know where to look, so my gaze bounced everywhere other than on him. I licked my lips. I fidgeted from one leg to the other. More than a little annoyed with myself, I froze like a deer caught in headlights. Was there anything more pathetic than the way I was acting? Because right then, I felt like an enormous loser who couldn’t handle a simple hookup with sophisticated indifference.
Gian looked at me over the rim of his blue coffee mug, one brow cocked, his ever-smirking lips mocking my discomfort. “He had some personal business today, so I gave him the day off.”
“Well, then…” I tugged on the cornflower blue infinity scarf that felt more like a noose around my neck the longer he looked at me. “I guess I’ll catch a cab. See you later.”
He stood, the metal legs of his chair scraping across the ebony-stained hardwood floors. “Where are you going?”
“Dancing.” At his blank look, I continued. “I booked some private time in a dance studio to practice and get in shape. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Ah, right. I don’t know how I forgot.” He snagged his phone from the table and stuffed it in the back pocket of his dark jeans. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m fine taking a cab.” I flipped my hand toward him. “I’m sure you have better stuff to do. Don’t you have to work or something like that?”
“Nope. It’s Monday. The club isn’t open.” He edged closer to me, his heavy footfalls ringing in my ears. “Besides, I don’t want you wandering around by yourself. It’s not a good idea after what happened last night.”
My brows scrunched together, and my heart did this weird fluttery thing inside my chest. For a fleeting second, I thought he meant what happened between us. Then I remembered the drive home, and my shoulders uncoiled with relief. I didn’t want to jump right into a conversation about the meaning of last night. It’d muddle my thoughts and tear my attention away from dancing, and I needed to remain focused on my career regardless of what happened in my personal life.
“Yeah, okay. You’re probably right,” I agreed despite the anxiety clawing at my chest. What other choice did I have? “Do you have any idea what happened? Was it random or…?” I didn’t know how to finish my sentence.
“I’m working on it.”
“Okay.”
I didn’t understand Gian’s world. He never talked to me about the risks of what he did. I assumed he and his family were into some bad stuff and somehow connected to the mafia, and other than that, I didn’t know shit. I was running blind, and I couldn’t exactly use mafia movies or books to give me the down low on what not to do. As much as it irked me to rely on another man after Kevin, I had to trust Gian.
***
Twenty minutes later, I stood in the dance studio in a pair of black capri leggings and a cotton cropped black top that hung off one shoulder. I moved from leg holds to lunges and every other stretch in my warmup routine, doing my best to ignore Gian’s presence. It seemed nearly impossible. My gaze tangled with his every time his feet shuffled over the hardwood floor or his finger pressed against the screen of his phone. Every movement, breath, or shared glance reminded me of last night, and I couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Sighing, I stuffed my earbuds into my ears and started moving through a dance I had choreographed last week.
Pas de bourrée.
Grand jeté.
Fouetté
Every noise, thought, and twinge of pain faded away. I loved dancing. It was a part of me. I loved flowing from one move to the other, my body straining, muscles flexing and merging with the music. I loved the way the bass rumbled through me, making me feel alive. Even if I couldn’t do it professionally, I knew I could never stop dancing. It was imprinted on my soul. Without it, I’d be lost.
Two hours passed like twenty minutes. Sweat misted my forehead. While my legs felt a little too much like jelly for my liking, my ankle didn’t hurt nearly as much as last week. In fact, I hardly noticed it once I got into the routine.