Chapter Thirteen

An hour later, after dealing with the phone call from a local radio station about interviewing the band, Devon pulled up his texts with Aria. After reading through it again, he ran a hand down his face. The conversation hadn't gone as planned—it sounded like he was giving her the brush-off, and she hadn't argued.

Maybe it was the universe telling him to forget her and walk away. When she danced at the venue, she was poised, elegant, and beautiful. Then there was the sight of her in the restaurant, with her red hair—not in a neat bun—flowing down her back in loose curls, and damn the universe, he wanted to give it another try.

“Can I call you now?” Might as well test the waters.

There was no response, but it had been over an hour, she might be busy with something else. Or she was blowing him off.

Tossing his phone to the side, he stared at his guitar leaning against the chair where he sat. He was working on a new song, well, he was always working on something new, but this one? The end eluded him. Troy had written the vocals, and Devon had promised to play around with an idea he had on his guitar, but it had been a while since they discussed it. He should've done it sooner rather than later. Unfortunately for him, that meant he needed to meet up with Troy again to get back on track, and soon.

His phone beeped, and his heart rate increased. Was it Aria?

Her name was on the screen and he was almost afraid to open the message. Taking a deep breath, he swiped the screen.

“Better yet, come visit me?”

He didn't hesitate. “Where?”

“I'm at the dance studio over on Stonebridge Rd.”

“I know the place, be there soon.”

He jumped up, grabbed his keys, and took off for the studio. Arriving in record time, he sat in the car to calm himself, not wanting to come off as overzealous as he felt. She was a little unsure around him, so he needed to take it slow.

Slow wasn't something he was used to, but he'd try, for her.

Devon had parked in the parking lot in the back of the building so he walked to the entrance around the front. Seeing the “Closed” sign he hesitated, but then he tried the door. It opened, and a bell chimed.

Music drew him through the clean, lemon-scented hallway where he glimpsed red hair flashing by through a doorway. Aria's appearance was nothing like the other times he’d seen her—on stage in costume or at the restaurant all dressed up.

She was across the room, barefoot in a tank top and boy shorts, and damn, she was sexy as hell. Her fiery hair stood in a messy ponytail on top of her head, swinging around with her every movement causing a few more hairs to escape. Most people would probably call her a hot mess, but he'd never seen a more beautiful woman. She was in her element, and it shone from within, reflective in her movements.

The tune was slow, and she danced through a sequence of steps, but then she faltered. He figured she’d spotted him, but instead of looking his way, she threw her head back to stare at the ceiling. She paused a moment, her foot tapped to the rhythm, and then she moved into the sequence again, only to stop at the same spot. She fisted her hands and dropped her chin to her chest.

“Hello?” He knocked on the doorframe.

Aria swiveled her head and her eyes widened in surprise. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear the door. You got here quick.”

He walked toward her. “Hope it's all right I let myself in.”

She walked past him and held up a finger. She stopped the music, and then walked out of the room.

He followed and watched as she locked the front door. “No one else coming in today?”

“No, that's why I invited you here. I wanted to chat, this place is neutral, and no one's here to bother us.”

“How do you know no one will come in?” He glanced at the door.

“I own the place.” She said it matter-of-factly. “It used to belong to my parents. Come.” Turning, she led them back to the room where she had been dancing. “Mom and Dad attended the same performance school in college, they were paired up a lot, and that's all she wrote. They're still together today. I'm an only child, so when they went into semi-retirement, they gave this place to me.”

“Semi-retirement?”

“They moved out of state for warmer pastures.” She laughed. “But they couldn't stay away from teaching. They opened up a small studio where they are now, and teach part-time.”

“I understand. If I ever stop performing live, I won't stop making music. It's in my blood.”

“Exactly.”

“So, what were you working on when I came in?”

“Saw that, huh?” The corner of her mouth tilted up. “The dance is for my young-adult class, I'm working out some choreography for their annual dance performance. Can't quite decide on the final sequence.”

“Do you need to keep at it?”

“No. I was just killing time and burning off steam.”

“Something wrong?”

“Not exactly. Let me change clothes and we can go to the break room and talk.”

“I'd rather watch you dance.” He leaned against the wall.

She laughed, but when he didn't join in, she stopped. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I'm serious.”

She shook her head. “If you're for real, then okay.”

“I'm for real. Promise.”

She headed over to her phone that was set up in a dock and tapped the screen.

When the first notes of the music echoed through the room, he assumed she was playing that particular song to impress him. “Nice song,” he hollered. The volume was louder than before.

She halted her movements and turned to him, her forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?” The blank expression on her face indicated she had no clue it was his song.

Instead of answering her, when the vocals started, he joined in, and her face lit up in recognition. She walked over to him.

After he sang the chorus his voice trailed off.

“I never knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That this song was by Sinful Souls.”

“Actually, it's one of the few I wrote and recorded on my own.”

“Oh.” She stared at him for a moment and then her mouth popped open. “It's about Cindy, isn't it?”

Now, that threw him off. “Do you know Cindy?”

“No, but my best friend is obsessed with you guys, so I hear all the gossip she reads in the rags. She knows you guys inside and out.”

Devon shook his head. “Or she thinks she does. Never believe what you read, okay?”

“So, it isn't about losing her?”