CHAPTER 5
Lex
Curiosity seemed to take my mind away from the staggering disappointment I’d just faced, so I wandered the wide, mazelike halls of Gravity. I peeked through windows and open doors to spy on classes in session. I passed by the staff room and the community area, where dancers congregated throughout the day, and moved swiftly past the training center that held a gym, sauna, pool, and locker rooms.
There was a college vibe as I traversed the halls, unique from any other dance studio I’d been in. But the history embedded subtly throughout the facility spoke the loudest. It had awards dating to the mid-nineties and autographed photos that appeared to date back just as far. I stopped at a plaque with a gold plate and wooden frame, feeling an instant tug on my heart. I knew it was special, even before reading the words.
In Loving Memory
Rashni Kaur
1976 – 2010
Founder of Gravity Dance Complex
I had a heaviness in my chest for a man I’d never known but who’d created something so beautiful. I wondered if he realized the impact his studio had on the world, not just in entertainment but as inspiration to young hearts everywhere. Like mine.
I first learned about Gravity from going down the YouTube rabbit hole. One second I was watching adage exercises to help strengthen my center, and the next I was taking an inside peek at studio performances choreographed by none other than Theodore Noska.
If my parents had known their sixteen-year-old daughter was internet stalking a twenty-four-year-old guy, they would have changed the Wi-Fi password on me for life. Fast-forward six years. If they knew their twenty-two-year-old daughter was more infatuated than ever with that now thirty-year-old man, they would have driven me straight back to Seattle.
I couldn’t let that happen. Living in a dingy apartment off Ventura Boulevard, sleeping on air mattresses in the living room, stealing Wi-Fi from our neighbors, and frequenting the laundromat down the road wasn’t exactly what I pictured when Shane and I decided to move to LA. But so far, it had been the most liberating three months of my life.
As I continued down the hall, it was almost as if Rashni’s spirit was with me, guiding me, encouraging me to explore. I had a newfound respect for the space where I’d been spending my days and nights—and a deeper respect for myself. I did it. I was doing it. Following my dreams, even if the current path was a little rocky.
I didn’t even realize I’d hit the end of the last hall until I spotted a gold-textured sign above it.
Gravity Performance Center
The antique white French doors below the sign were closed, but when I pressed my ear against the entrance, everything seemed quiet. I pulled on the handle, halfway expecting it to be locked, but it opened easily, so I peeked through the dimly lit crack.
Empty. A sigh of relief escaped me as I entered the theater.
The first thing I noted was the theater’s size. It looked large, but I didn’t have much to compare it to. There were three sections of blue velvet seats, and each aisle had a runway of carpet and stairs with gold-wrapped banisters, all of it angled down toward a deep stage.
Scuff marks marred the stage floor, and a faded blue-velvet curtain was open. Small brass lamps holding dim lights were fastened to the floral-papered walls, emitting a comforting ambience despite the vastness of the space.
I made my way forward, down the wide aisle, detecting a light draft that brought a scent of fresh wood and paint. After untying my black sweater jacket from my waist, I slid my arms through the sleeves and zipped it over my breasts. I threw the hood of the fabric over my head to combat the frigid air and, with a sigh, sank into a seat at the front of the room.
My thoughts flashed between the failed audition and the constant look of disappointment on my parents’ faces that always seemed to accompany anything to do with dance. They didn’t get it, and I knew they never would. But as a college graduate who’d pursued all the internships and part-time positions offered at my parents’ publishing house, I’d done everything they’d asked to stay in their good graces. My decision to move to LA had disappointed them, but at least they agreed it was my decision.
A loud clang from above jarred me from my thoughts, and a beam of bright light flooded the stage. I gasped, sinking lower in my seat when a figure dressed in white jeans and a leather jacket walked out from stage left. My heart galloped as I identified the man with one sweep of my eyes.
Theo.
There was no mistaking his lean but muscular build, his sexy hot mess of blond hair, and the square face that showcased the sexiest dimple in his chin. I couldn’t see his dimple now, or his insanely hot lips—thick with a peaked Cupid’s bow—but they had been embedded in my mind since yesterday. My cheeks heated at my thoughts.
He removed the jacket and slung it toward the curtain, revealing a loose white muscle shirt underneath.
Music streamed in from the surrounding speakers, but Theo just stood there, his eyes closed, his head down, and his jaw locked tight, as if he were taking in the words and imagining what he could do with them. Even I was imagining what he could do with them.
Rumors started traveling the moment he’d strutted through Gravity’s main doors yesterday. It seemed his mysterious reappearance had been everyone’s favorite topic. Talk in the community center gave me the impression that Theo was content on bouncing from job to job without a real break in between. Apparently, he hadn’t taught a studio class in years, so the probability of him trying to find an open studio to teach in was slim. No one understood why he was back, though there were whispers of a hush-hush project for someone high-profile.
My eyes snapped to the stage when he started to move. First he rolled his neck and then his shoulders in slow and steady isolations as the unfamiliar song played on, save for the random lyric or beat that would inspire him to break out into a combination of moves. Was he choreographing in his head? He’d never talked about his creative process in any of the interviews I’d seen. He always made it seem as if it just happened.
I watched him for a long time, his focus inspiring. From what I’d gathered about Theo over the years, he was a deep thinker—quiet, serious, and not much of a talker. He kept a low profile when it came to his personal relationships and never got caught up in political warfare. He seemed … simple, yet there was nothing simple about the way he danced.
Track after track, he let the record play without stop. I heard more unfamiliar songs, but at some point, I recognized that the voice behind the sultry vocals belonged to Winter. The world’s hottest pop icon—clearly, since she didn’t need a last name—the pop and R&B-inspired singer from Canada had gotten her big break six years ago when she was just sixteen. She was known for her knockout stage performances and catchy songs guaranteed to blow up the charts.
I held my breath when I realized I must have just listened to Winter’s entire unreleased album. Suddenly, I felt I had gone beyond simply invading Theo’s privacy. My head whipped around the space, my heart frantic. Had I trespassed? Could there be consequences for something like this?
Unease rattled me, and I would have snuck out right then if I hadn’t thought I would attract attention. So I stayed put as guilt feasted away at me until, finally, Theo started to walk off stage.
I let out a deep breath as I quietly pulled myself out of the row. I was a split second away from making a run for the exit when Theo strutted back onstage.
My eyes froze on him, half expecting him to catch me in the audience, but his eyes were on fire and so focused on whatever he was trying to accomplish that he still hadn’t spotted me.
I sat back down, my palms sweating and my heart hammering, and then watched as everything he’d been building in his head exploded onto the stage.
Theo laid it all out on the dance floor. His passion. His intensity. He practically shook the room. There was a litheness behind each glide and twist, the strong lines of his body as he rolled into a lock, and the tension he unleashed in each isolated movement.
Jesus. Is this what an out-of-body experience is like? I was weightless, transfixed at the scene before me. Dance was the language of Theo’s soul. He bled in sweat. He breathed in the music. And he radiated passion through every square inch of his body.
I’d always been fascinated with how much emotion could be conveyed through dance. How the body could become an instrument and tell an entire story. Watching Theo dance proved it. He was my preacher, and I was his loyal disciple, two seconds away from worship.
A sheen of sweat coated his face and dripped down his neck, disappearing beneath his long white shirt. He was a beautiful man, but it was what he expressed through his body that made him a god. Some had even called him a modern-day Bob Fosse, with stunning technique and the fluidity that gave him a unique edge and limitless creativity. And it wasn’t just the way he moved or choreographed a single piece but the way he put productions together, making the audience feel immersed in whatever world he’d created.
The longer I sat there, the worse I began to feel. I wasn’t sure how much time passed before he took his next break and downed an entire bottle of water, his muscular chest heaving, his body a river of sweat.
The music still played, but nothing could disguise the sound of my phone when it started to ring.
Crap.
I might have even gotten away with the one ring since the music was so loud, but when bling after bling sounded, like the annoying chime of a morning alarm, I knew I was screwed. I scrambled to steal my phone from my pocket, already feeling intense eyes watching me. I pushed the switch to quiet my phone, but it was too late.
The room carried a heavy silence, and an inferno of heat washed over me. I could feel a confrontation looming.
“Who the hell are you?” The boom of his angry voice shook me.
I cleared my throat and stood, shakily, then stepped into the aisle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were going to be in here.”
“I didn’t see you come in.” His tone was accusing. When I couldn’t find the words to respond, his cheeks reddened. “You’ve been here the whole goddamn time? Didn’t you see the ‘Reserved’ sign on the door?” He threw a look toward the main doors and raised his finger. “How did you get in here? The door was supposed to be locked.”
I looked in the direction he was pointing, confused, then turned back to Theo with a shake of my head. “It was unlocked. There was no sign. And no one was here when I—” I swallowed the jumble of nerves in my throat. “I just wanted a little privacy.” I began to back away slowly. “I’m sorry. I should have told you I was here the moment you walked in.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I-I don’t know. You looked … focused. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
His breath came out in a rush, and he leaned in, trying to get a better look at me. “Take off your hood.”
My hand shook as I lifted it to my head and slowly pulled down my hood, too nervous to just rip off the bandage, as I should have.
“What’s your name?”
“Alexandra Quinn.” I snapped my mouth shut then opened it again. “Lex, actually.”
“You look familiar. Why do you look familiar?”
He doesn’t even remember. I shrugged, trying to ignore the ache in my chest. “I’m just a dancer.” It was true. I was a nobody to him. Invisible.
His eyes scanned the length of my body, I assumed to check out my attire. “Clearly,” he murmured, and I wasn’t sure if he meant for me to hear it. “I’d hate for anything you saw here to get leaked. I could have you sign an NDA, but I don’t have fucking time for that right now.”
My jaw dropped. “I won’t leak anything—I wouldn’t—but I’ll sign it if you want.”
He hopped off the stage and made his way toward me before stopping a few feet away. His heavy scowl caused my heart to leap into my throat and my pulse to pound through my veins, and I couldn’t for the life of me find my next calm breath. I took in a ragged one instead as he assessed me.
A moment later, his eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the girl from yesterday. From the registration line.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks again for, you know, catching me.” My cheeks burned. How much worse can this conversation possibly get?
“Wasn’t that audition today?”
I nodded.
“Janelle’s choreo?”
I couldn’t decide if I was being interrogated or if Theo was genuinely curious. My eyes flicked between his, and I nodded again.
“Well,” he prodded. “Did you get it?” He spoke almost as intensely as he danced. I didn’t know what to make of it.
“No. I didn’t.” Mortification snaked through me. It was bad enough to fail my audition, but to have to discuss that failure with the one person I’d always dreamed of working with was the absolute bottom of the barrel.
“What happened?” His voice wasn’t one of a concerned mentor. He was definitely interrogating me—feeling me out—and I was afraid of what he was fishing to find.
“It was my first audition … so…” My voice trailed off as I caught the way his brows turned down, clearly displeased.
“You’re making excuses.”
Shit. I shook my head. “I’m just—”
“Making excuses. You shouldn’t do that. Justifying all the reasons you fucked up your audition won’t help you improve. Own your mistakes and work to never make them again.”
Wait a second. My head felt as if it was spinning on its axis. Mistakes? “But I didn’t—”
He barked out a laugh, cutting me off again then pinning me with his eyes. “You did. That’s why you tucked your tail between your legs and snuck in here. Am I right? Couldn’t handle the rejection?”
“No,” I shot back. “I handled it just fine, thank you very much.”
He chuckled. “Good. Because it won’t be the last time.”
Jesus. Who knew a fantasy could be destroyed with a few angry words? Theodore Noska was an asshole. I couldn’t find the words to respond. If I opened my mouth, I would be a sputtering idiot, giving him more to dig into me about.
He sighed then shook his head. “Look. I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve seen this industry swallow up girls like you.”
I crossed my arms. “Girls like me?”
“The newbies. The dreamers. The naïve souls without a clue what it takes to step into the professional world. Chances are, the reality will crush you, Alexandra.”
“It’s Lex.” I didn’t care that I’d turned into a snapping turtle in reaction to Theo’s harsh words.
His lip curled. “Whatever. Some people are better off keeping dance as a hobby.”
In that moment, I hated him more than I’d ever lusted over him. Which was probably why my next words flew from my mouth like word vomit. “You’re a jerk.” I gasped, my lids stretched wide, and clapped a hand over my mouth.
His eyes flashed with amusement, then his head fell back as he laughed. “Did you just call me a jerk?”
My entire body shook as I narrowed my eyes at him and released a heavy breath from my nose. “Yes,” I hissed.
He shrugged and narrowed his gaze. “I’ve been called worse.” With a lift of his chin, he gestured toward the door. “Get the hell out.”
So cold. So cutthroat. It was my first run-in with Theo Noska, and I hoped it would be my last.