PRESENT DAY
10 YEARS LATER
KATE
I dance as if my life depends upon it, as if my limbs are more than just an extension of myself. The music circulates throughout my body, pushing it in ways it hasn’t been pushed before. Every sentiment I’m feeling pours out of me like water from a fountain. I’m telling a story and allowing the audience a tiny peek into my soul.
The tears threaten to break free, but I suppress them, knowing now isn’t the time to crumble. I finish my routine and hit my last mark, the music fading into nothingness.
No words are said and, as I turn to walk off stage, the room erupts in applause and hollers. My heart is pounding in my chest and, when I bow, I feel pride in myself for pushing through and not letting my emotions get the best of me. I danced for a song that has carried more meaning than anyone would or could ever know.
I step off stage and into my fiancé, Weston’s, arms. He holds me tightly, swinging me around as I giggle, before snaking my arms tightly around his neck. I can see his beautiful green eyes gleam with pride as he kisses me softly, his hands settled firmly upon my slim waist.
“Damn, baby. You fucking killed it.” I laugh at his excitement while I drag him back to our designated VIP seats to watch the final minutes of the show.
I signed a year and a half ago with the En Pointe Dance Company a day after my 25th birthday. Every single moment- industry parties, rehearsals and performances- it has been a dream come true.
I’ve worked my ass off to get to the place I am now, and am one of the top ballet and lyrical dancers in the nation. It’s somewhat uncommon to be where I am at my age and many dancers along the way, unfortunately, don’t make it. I know it’s an amazing accomplishment. As much as I’d like to say I credit it to my friends and family who supported me and got me to where I am now, I don’t.
So much more than that has shaped who I’ve become. I’ve had to jump some difficult hurdles. Hurdles that no young girl should ever have to face.
The last dancer finishes her dance and the curtains close; the lights fade into darkness.
Weston’s fingers intertwine with mine instinctively and, even after eight years together today, it still causes a flurry of butterflies in my stomach whenever we touch, no matter how innocent that touch may be.
“Come on, babe. I have a surprise.”
I wink at him and release his hand, skipping ahead through the glass studio doors and out into the warm Boston air. With my Pointe shoes still firmly in place, I run and jump, completing a near perfect Grand Jeté, my legs extended endlessly with great precision.
Weston saunters up and smiles.
“Damn, showoff.”
I flip my hair and stick my tongue out at him, but in seconds he’s pulled me flesh against his chest and caught my tongue with his mouth.
“Think you might be able to put on a little show for me at home?” His voice deepens slightly and his eyes glaze over with a primal need that I know all too well. My fingers run over the scruffiness of his beard and I know that I’ll never tire of the way it feels against me.
“I might be able to arrange that.” I wink, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.
We climb into his car and I reach into the center console to pull out the container for my contacts. After a five-hour rehearsal and two-hour recital, the dryness is beginning to irritate me. I needed them out, like yesterday. I place the contacts into their container and put on my silver-rimmed glasses.
Weston watches my every move and when I look at him, tilting my head quizzically like our black poodle, Callie, does, he just puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking spot, never speaking a word. I shrug my shoulders and begin pulling the bobby pins from my stage hairdo, my brown hair cascading into waves for days.
I don’t ask Wes where we’re going because I’ve learned he won’t tell me. It’s frustrating and cute, but for some odd reason he likes surprising me as much as I like pestering and annoying the shit out of him. Trivial things like this are what make us ‘us’ and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“For the sake of tradition, I feel it’s my duty as your pain-in-the-ass fiancée, to ask if we’re almost there yet?”
“Here we go.” He chuckles. “I was waiting for you to get started.”
“Is that a yes?” One of his hands rests firmly on my knee and it’s then that I realize we’re playing a game. Every time I ask an annoying question, his hand will move further upwards inch by inch, shutting me up at least for a fleeting time. It’s a game we invented when we went on our first road trip together, during our first year of dating. Even on five-minute car rides, he’ll usually get all the way up to my hoohah, because you know, I’m pure, unadulterated me. I think he pretends to be annoyed, but secretly loves it as much as I do.
“No, Beautiful. Not even close.”
I sigh, flipping on the radio before beginning to switch the station every 30 seconds or so. Weston hates when I do that because he’s one of those strange souls that actually listens to the lyrics. I happen to get a kick at how he crinkles his eyebrows while his other hand tightens on the steering wheel. His patience is about as bad as mine; he’s just much better at concealing it than I am.
I go to hit the scan button when Weston catches me and pushes my hand away. “No. Back away, babe. I might kill you if you keep it up.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” I squint my blue eyes in a challenge, changing the station anyways. He looks at me and sighs loudly, but quickly gives up arguing to focus too intently on the road ahead of us. I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks for putting up with me, my love.”
“I think I’m the only man in the world who would. You’re kind of annoying, Katie Kat.” I scoff at his words, he only chuckles. “I love you anyways, though.”
“Gee, thanks.” I mutter sarcastically. He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it; at the same time I change the station again with my hand furthest away from him. He drops his grasp on me like a hot potato and hits the power button, shutting off the radio altogether.
“Okay. I’m cutting you off. No more damn radio allowed while we’re in the car together.”
I hold my hands up in surrender, knowing when to let it go. I love bothering Weston, but I love him more. “If you say so, master.”
“Open that mouth of yours one more time and I’ll show you just exactly who’s master.” He says with a barely noticeable wink.
The silence doesn’t last longer than a few seconds before the itching need to talk takes over. It’s a bad habit of mine, for sure. “Are we there yet?” I bite my lip, trying not to giggle as Weston’s nostrils flare with frustration.
“Dammit, Kate. We should invest in tape for your mouth.” Though his words drip with agitation, his lips twitch like he’s holding back a smile. At that, I get an overwhelming desire to reach over and kiss him, but decide to crush that urge. He’s driving and I don’t want to distract him. I’ll have to settle for doing that whenever we get wherever the hell we’re going.
All joking aside, we love the shit out of each other and I couldn’t imagine building this perfect life with any other person. Eight years together with one house, a cabin in the woods, two cars, and a fluffy little dog- our life is perfect.
I glare my eyes at Weston as he pulls off to the side of the road, nothing but industrial buildings surrounding us. He pulls a black bandana from his back pocket and an unladylike groan ensues.
“Dear God, Wes. Really?”
“Turn around, Beautiful.” I sigh dramatically, whining every step of the way while shifting in my seat, giving him perfect access to tie the darn strip of fabric.
“Try to not tie my hair into it this time.” I grumble. He laughs and my heart flutters at the deep timbre. It’s not normal to feel this way after being together so many years, right? It feels like we’re still in the honeymoon phase but we’re way past that. Sure, we fight, every couple does but we always make up the very same day ‘cause neither of us can bear to stay mad any longer than that.
“All done.”
I turn my body back in my seat and a gasp escapes me as his lips find mine. I wasn’t expecting it, but I’d been craving just this. My fingers grip the base of his neck, pulling him further into me and I open almost immediately, allowing him to deepen the kiss to the place both of us always need it to be.
“Fuck, Kate.” He whispers against me and I giggle despite being completely out of breath.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
Weston groans and starts the car back up, but thanks to this damn blindfold, all I see is blackness, infuriating blackness. “I was thinking we should use this blindfold at home tonight.” Weston doesn’t say anything. “Do you think you could scrounge up a couple more of these things? I’m thinking that tying you up and having my way with you, could be fun—like a full on orgasmic kind of fun.”
“Kate.” I suck my lip between my teeth, smiling at his warning, hearing massive desperation in that one tiny word. “I’m going to hold you too it, my little dancer.”
I laugh at the nickname he’d given me when we were 18 as the car stops moving and the engine turns off.
“It’s about time.”
I hear his seat belt click, followed by the door closing behind him and then mine opening seconds later. I’m still decked out in my dance attire, but I climb out anyways when his hand grasps mine and pulls me towards him.
I’d trust Weston with my life and essentially being blindfolded- not for the first time either- is just that.
We walk up some stairs with me just a step or two ahead of him. His hands stay firmly planted on my waist to make sure I don’t fall, I know if I did, there isn’t a doubt in my mind that Wes would be there to catch me in his lusciously strong arms.
Weston wants to marry me even after everything I put him through on a daily basis. So, I must not irritate him as much as I think I do. What I love most about him is that I can be my complete self around him. No need to put on a façade that’s far different from who I truly am.
His arms rake around me from the back and I lean back into him, feeling every curve and muscle that I’ve already committed to memory and touch. He’s much taller than I am; he towers over me, but in a way that says he’s my protector, sheltering me from any evil the world may carry.
“Okay, beautiful.” He reaches one hand up and pulls the bandana off, my eyes quickly readjusting to the light.
I gasp, taking in everything around us, honestly surprised he’d found the time to set this up. Standing on top of a roof as the sun begins to set is already romantic and oh so sweet, but more than that, he’s put a lot of thought into planning this. It’s far more romantic than your everyday rooftop picnic.
It’s the projector and screen set up in front of an air mattress covered with blankets and pillows. It’s the small table set with candles and snacks. It’s just the fact that he took the time to do this for me that has my heart wanting to burst from my chest.
I turn in his arms, clasping my fingers around his neck and pulling him to me. His tongue slips into my mouth and meets mine and I moan against him, never tiring of the feel and the taste of the man I love more than life itself. When I wrap my legs around his midsection, he grips my ass firmly and holds me like the most loved and admired person in the entire world. And I am.
I pull back, both of us resting our foreheads against each other. “I love you so much, Wes. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.” A tear slips down my cheek and his thumb lightly brushes it away.
He sets me down and I look at him. The softness of the sunset is casting an angelic halo over his head, only further validating that this man is something special.
His hair is pulled back into a ponytail almost as long as mine and, while most people think it’s silly for a man to wear his hair in that way, I couldn’t find it any sexier. I adore running my fingers through his getting longer beard and he always laughs at me and says I’m weird for obsessing over it.
I know what I like and a scruffy beard running over my body, well let’s just say I may be a tad addicted with it. I’ve told him before, if he ever shaves it, I’m breaking off our engagement and going to go find a sexy lumberjack to bed me.
His large hand wraps around mine and he pulls me towards the air mattress. I sit down on the edge to remove my Pointe shoes and, when I’m done, I lean back into the piles of pillows and pull him down on top of me.
“Happy Eight-Year Anniversary, babe.” Tears pool in my eyes. For some reason I had an aching suspicion that he wouldn’t remember today, but I couldn’t be happier that I was wrong. “I fucking love you hard, Katie Kat.”
His arms hold me close and, with a nearby remote, flips on the projector. I giggle when I realize what movie he’s playing- the one from our very first date. “You’re so corny, my love.”
“What can I say? Being around you has done that to me.” He kisses me on the forehead and as Ratatouille begins to play, the sun fully sets and the stars slowly come out to play.