CHAPTER 15
Theo
The sound of a drill pierced my ears when I entered the side door of my three-story house. I lived on the outskirts of LA with privacy and land not normally found on this side of town. It was quiet and homey—the perfect getaway from my normally crazy life. Talk about an inconvenient time for renovations. Especially on a day when I could use some major shut-eye. The past few weeks had caught up with me. But the construction was almost finished, and it would be a lifesaver when it was.
As I moved through the foyer and down the hall, specks of sawdust caught the light and floated in a cloud around me. I entered the room where the ruckus was coming from and someone cut the engine to the machine. In seconds, the dust cleared, giving me a better view of the open space.
My mood was instantly lifted. My own personal dance studio. It’d always been a dream of mine, and after I’d bought the house three years ago, the studio was the first update I planned to make. The time had never been right before, but after officially getting the gig with Winter, I decided to make the move.
My plan was for the studio to be finished two months ago, but that was another project my ex-assistant had been responsible for.
“Coming along, boys.” I greeted the four men with a handshake as they proceeded to run down the list of remaining work.
“I’d say we’re about two days out. Walls get fresh paint tomorrow. Floor sealant goes on the next day. You’ll want to give it a few days to dry. Then it’s all yours.”
“Thanks, man. I really appreciate the rush job here. Finding studio time at Gravity has been a bitch.”
The men chuckled, though I knew they hadn’t a clue what I’d been through, nor did they care. After a final perusal of the space, I jogged upstairs, strode past the kitchen and living room, then made my way to the top floor, where my bed was waiting.
The studio would be soundproof, but since the door was open, I could still hear faint sounds of the machines. Luckily I was too tired to care as I threw myself on my bed, intending to nap for just a few hours.
It was dark when I woke, my eyes sprinting open and my heart lunging straight through my throat. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I’d slept too long.
I threw off the covers and dove for the bathroom to rinse off and change before I headed back to Gravity. I had five more dances to choreograph. I’d been stalled for the past few days, which set me back. And Monday was going to be a big day. The crew would not only learn an entire routine but also Winter would be joining them for “blends,” which was when backup dancers and the artist began rehearsing together.
Blending was always the trickiest phase of show prep. For artists, it was like a whole new world, being surrounded by dancers who were ultimately better than them. But at the same time, it empowered the artist to know they were backed by a chorus of talent to help them shine. The glittery costumes and fancy lighting didn’t hurt either.
I stuffed my legs into a pair of sweatpants and a muscle shirt, strapped on my sneakers, and busted down the stairs like a tropical storm ready to destroy anything in my path. The center was only twenty minutes from my house, and luckily LA traffic was avoidable along the backstreets.
I parked along the curb in my usual spot at the front of the building and entered the dimly lit facility, no key required per the twenty-four-hour policy. The only person there was a security guard, Fred, who watched over the place every night. He walked the halls and the perimeter nonstop, and he’d been doing it for years. Hired by Rashni when Gravity opened, he was now the longest-standing employee in the entire facility.
I walked the long hall until I reached a room with light streaming through the rectangular peep window in the door. It wasn’t completely unusual for someone to be here training after hours. I did it every night. But it always made me curious to see who had that same kind of drive.
When I reached the window and looked inside, my heart kicked up a beat. Lex was there, her caramel blond hair thrown into a messy pile atop her head. She was barefoot and wore gray sweats and a white tank that exposed her toned middle section. And from the amount of sweat on her body and her heavy breathing, I guessed she’d been there for hours.
Something about Lex’s style made her stand out from the other dancers. She had a brilliance to her movements and transitions that she probably didn’t even understand in her young career. The way she was able to move from hard and athletic to heartfelt and lyrical made every move—even the moments when she was standing still—mean something.
Every move mattered. Every emotion on her face felt authentic, to the point it reached me deep in my bones. When she danced it was as if she were speaking directly to me. It’d been a long time since watching someone dance made me feel that way, as if my heart were moments away from being yanked from my chest.
When the song ended and her head began to swivel in my direction, I stepped away from the door so she couldn’t see me. I couldn’t let her catch me spying on her like some creep.
Kinda like the way she spied on me in the theater.
Yeah, well. I guess we’re even now.