I stared at the satin laces dangling from the shelf, taunting me, begging me to wear them. Sam had schemed me into this and I wasn’t happy.

He was in the studio waiting for me to show him something a ballerina would do. My Goddess uniform was hanging where it always did. Didn’t he know I hadn’t been a ballerina for a long time?

I dug through my closet until I found one of my wrap shirts and a light pink wrap skirt. I quickly put them on and then began to pull the pointe shoes from the shelf. I was shaking and my fingers tingled. I didn’t know if I could go through with this.

I sat on the edge of the bed. What if it didn’t feel right? What if I injured my hamstring again? What if this was a setback? This could end all of the plans I had made to audition. With a new injury, I would ruin the chance I did have.

“Natalia, where are you?” Sam called from the room next to mine.

“Hold on,” I replied.

I had to do this. Not only because I had to pay up for the bet I had lost, but because I had been putting it off way too long. My fear had eaten away at my confidence. I could tell Sam was trying to give some of that back to me.

But he hadn’t been there. He didn’t know the pain it caused and the months of anguish piled on top.

I exhaled, and for the first time in nine months, my feet wore pointe shoes.

* * *

I might as well have been stepping onto the stage for my first performance. My stomach did somersaults and I could feel the sticky perspiration in my hands. I took my time walking into the studio.

Sam was going through my record collection, but he must have heard me enter and turned around.

“Wow.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.” My mouth felt dry. Wearing the shoes again had brought back not only the good memories but also the nightmare. I trembled.

He took a few long strides toward me and took my hand, leading me to the center of the room. “I know you can.”

I looked at us in the mirror. He was tall and strong, overpowering, almost, in my quiet sanctuary. He made me look dainty even though I was five-eight. He stood behind me and squeezed my shoulders.

“I’ll put on the music.”

“But what if I can’t?” I eked.

He turned. “I’ve got you. And if you can’t, we’ll figure out how to make sure you can.”

It sounded simple. It sounded as if he had figured out the perfect remedy to my problems. All I had to do was dance.

He placed a vinyl record on the turntable, moved the arm, and hit the switch. There were a few moments of crackling static before I heard the notes of the piano. I needed a moment to center myself. A moment to remember who I was as a dancer.

I felt the air fill my lungs before I started with a gentle plié. My arms swished to the sides before I moved onto my toes in a relevé. I wasn’t ready to try one leg at a time yet. I needed to work through the motions slowly. I felt the strength in my legs as I held the position on the tips of my toes and pressed into the ground with my shoes.

The more I moved, the more I started to remember the joy of dancing. The lure of the stage. The music in my ears. I stopped thinking about the accident and the pain. I let my body dictate how it floated through space.

Sam didn’t utter a word. He stood in the corner next to the record player, while I picked up my left leg and then my right. I leaned toward the bar, kicking a leg behind me, all the while maintaining my balance on my toes. It was happening. There was stability and balance. I had trust in my body again. I didn’t feel like my right leg was going to snap like a twig. Instead I felt the power in my standing leg as I moved easily from position to position.

I twirled on my toes and bowed at Sam. My heart was about to beat out of my chest, but no longer from fear—from bliss.

“What do you think?” I was practically glowing. I could see it in the mirror.

“I think you’re beautiful and you’ve never been sexier than you are right now.”

I skipped over the room and jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. I kissed him fiercely.

“Thank you for making me lose that stupid football bet.”

He pressed my face between his palms. “I’m happy for you. How’s your leg?”

I lowered myself to the ground and pressed my right toes into the floor. “It feels fine. I can’t believe it feels okay.” I was still stunned.

“Whether you like it or not, all that ass shaking you do with the Goddesses has probably been more therapy than you realized. You have a tight little ass and that means strong hamstrings.”

“I think that’s a compliment.” I smiled slyly at him. He never let me forget how much he enjoyed my body.

“It is most definitely a compliment.”

I pulled on his hand. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Oh no.” His eyes widened with fear. “I don’t dance.”

“Really? Aren’t you the ring leader of the club scene?”

“Have you been cyber stalking me?” He eyed me.

I pinched my fingers together. “Maybe a little bit.”

“That doesn’t mean I dance. It means I party. There’s a difference.”

I wasn’t giving up that easily. The adrenaline was flowing through me. “Dance with me, Sam. Not ballet. But hold me. Dance with me.”

I could see the defeat as his shoulders sagged. “There are no cameras in this studio, are there?”

“No, of course not.”

I placed my hands around his neck as he slipped his palms to the small of my back.

“See? Not so bad.” I ran my hand over his shoulder and the width of his bicep, pulling his grip on my hip so that we were holding hands. I clutched our joined palms at my breast.

The steps were small and the movements were easy, but we moved together with as much perfection as we did in bed. He didn’t give himself credit for how athletic he was. He wouldn’t be able to dive and avoid tackles without agility and the skill of staying light on his toes. I wasn’t going to present it to him like that, but he had his own style of grace.

I pressed up into another relevé, adding several inches to my height. I didn’t say a word as he lifted me from the ground and brought my lips to his as he continued to elevate me into the air. His arms flexed and I looked down into his eyes.

He lowered me slowly, dragging my body over his. I closed my eyes, taking in the solidness of him as I slid to the floor.

“Natalia, come back with me,” he whispered.

The moment felt magical and enchanted. Almost as if we were rehearsing a lovers scene for the stage.

“Can I think about it?” I asked. “Please.”

He pressed his forehead to mine and I heard the vinyl crackle in between songs.

“Don’t wait too long to answer.”

“I won’t.”

He kissed me gently and walked out of the room. “I have to get back to San Antonio.”

There was a giant hollowness in my chest. I didn’t want him to leave, but I didn’t think I was the kind of girl who could go.