Chapter 18
Chelsea
Cole.
I envisioned his dazzling green eyes, so intense. Especially when his body was crushed down on mine, pinning me to the bed or the wall.
Or the kitchen table or…
Oh, God, this was horrible. I fisted my forehead and tried to breathe normally.
Why had I pushed Cole away?
Honestly, the question had haunted me for days. I’d buried myself in work, expecting to see a stupid reporter hanging out at the gym or outside the condo.
But there’d been none.
And damn if he didn’t look hot on the ice. Okay, so maybe I’d searched online until I’d found clips of the two games held in Reno. No one was as sexy in a uniform as Cole Kendrick, aka the Rebel. No one.
Stop it, girl. You need to concentrate and the two of you aren’t compatible.
True. My brain knew that. Try telling my aching body that very same thing. I was even clenching my thighs together because a single thought about the deep V cut in his abdomen leading to his long… thick… cock was too much for my brain to handle.
I’d also glimpsed at social media only a couple of times, fearful in doing so I’d throw up or have a panic attack. Maybe Sam and her brother were right in that with nothing else to feed the beast including pictures or eyewitness accounts, the story was dying naturally.
I hoped so, but I couldn’t help but feel as if the ugly shadows all around me were just waiting to drag me into submission. Or to hell, whichever came first.
“Are you okay?” Hearing Samantha’s voice allowed a smile. She’d insisted on coming to watch me dance.
At least I had one person in my corner. Even if the possible scandal wasn’t hanging around, I’d known better than to waste my time inviting my parents. Dad would be too busy with business, my mom with whatever she did to fill her time. Maybe a hot young guy.
And honestly? I didn’t want them here.
“I’m fine. I just…” Uh-oh. I’d almost admitted to Cole’s sister of all people I wished he could be here. Another reminder, ding-ding-ding, that I barely knew him, we weren’t an item and I’d sent him away.
“Missing Cole?”
“I don’t… know.”
She laughed. “It’s okay. I knew someone would like him one day.” Her teasing, haughty tone cut through the tension of my creation. She had a way of doing that, which was exactly what I needed.
“Did they win their games?”
“You really didn’t pay any attention?”
I shook my head. “I wanted to, but was terrified of what I’d see.”
“Comments or the girls hanging all over him?”
“Both?” I lifted my eyebrows, my voice squeaky. Fortunately, we both laughed.
“You two should really sit down and talk. I know,” she said, throwing her hand out, “easier said than done, but two stubborn people could mean years fly by. Don’t allow that to happen.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. But did they win?”
“Yes! The two games were amazing. They were on fire.”
“No fights?”
Samantha shook her head. “No fights. In fact, it would appear Jagger and Cole were a real team. Someone called them the Dynamic Duo. Maybe the trip was good for them. Maybe your pep talk was good for Cole.”
Maybe the fact I’d broken it off with Cole was the reason. While my stomach churned, I could tell I’d done the right thing. “I’m glad. Both deserve their time in the spotlight.”
I meant that about my brother. He could be a jerk, but he deserved happiness.
“Alright, people,” the stage coordinator barked. “Get your places.”
With her usual dramatic flair, she sighed. “I guess I better get my seat. I can’t wait to see you dance.”
Now I felt the weight of the dance, peering through the crack in the curtains toward the audience. With the lights beginning to dim, I couldn’t see more than a handful of figures.
“Did the scout arrive?”
“If our artistic director has any idea when they’re coming, he’s not sharing the information. He’s a sadist that way.”
She squeezed my arm. “Well, no matter. You’re already the star of the show.”
“I wish I had your confidence.”
“My mother always told us if we ever got nervous over a presentation, a speech, or a performance to envision the people in front of us as members of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”
I burst into laughter. “Your family and your love of movies.”
“Oh, we were an eclectic bunch. There was a time my parents encouraged us to dress up like the characters. Can you imagine our neighbors and what they would have thought? First, terrified about us being shifters but even worse, when we dressed up like Night of the Living Dead.”
She had a way of putting me at ease, acting as if it was no big deal she was a shifter.
Wolves. I still couldn’t get over the realization I knew a couple of wolves.
Maybe I’d just been in a fairly protected environment or simply hadn’t paying close enough attention, but until now, I truly didn’t believe I’d spent any time with one.
Naysayers, and I’d learned there were still plenty of them, liked to point out implausible activities or horrors attributed to the vicious beasts. In fact, ninety-nine percent of the insane stories had been debunked.
They were no more dangerous than anyone else. Unless they were provoked.
Cole’s fight caught on camera came to mind.
Until I’d watched portions of several games.
He’d been right. Hockey was a violent sport, almost every game complete with one or more players being tossed into the plexiglass partitions surrounding the rink.
That almost always led to a fight between teams.
I’d even found myself cheering a couple of the fights on in the privacy of my own bedroom. Silly. Right?
Part of me was embarrassed I’d allowed myself to imbed into my brain what the press had said about shifters without checking facts. That’s something else I’d done during long, sleepless nights.
Why? Because I missed him and hated the way we’d left things. Left things? I’d torched our budding relationship.
“I would love to see your family during one of these festive evenings,” I told her. And I would. My parents would never be caught dead dressing up for anything, unless it was some fabulous masquerade ball in which only the rich and famous had been invited.
“Maybe you can come to my parents’ house for dinner one night. It’ll be a hoot.”
“That would be cool.” She noticed I was twisting my hands together.
“Breathe, Chelsea. As I’ve always told my brothers. You’ve got this.”
“Yeah, I know. I just…” What was it about being unable to finish full sentences when I thought about Cole? What was wrong with me?
“You just wish Cole was sitting in the audience. Right?”
“I didn’t say that!”
Her wry smiles were almost as bad as everything else. “You just did.”
As Samantha backed away, she winked.
It was good to have a friend, even if maybe one day I’d see her turning all furry.
I had wondered what witnessing a transformation would be like.
What would Cole be like au naturel? I pressed my fingers across my mouth to keep from laughing while the images of him with claws and canines refused to leave my mind.
Evidently, I had no fear of a wild animal living inside my bestie and her brothers, yet I was utterly terrified of a four-minute dance. Go figure.
For some reason, I’d never felt so alone in my life as well as nervous. My stomach was doing flipflops.
My dance was near the end, which gave me ample time to suffer. I did that remarkably well all by myself and without the extreme pressure. As the music cued silence in the audience, I returned to the shadows, hoping for a little quiet time and anonymity.
While I paced the floor.
In the world of dance, I’d learned to find peace. Both in myself and whatever was happening around me.
While I’d learned later my parents had insisted I take dance lessons for entirely selfish reasons, the gangly kid with almost no friends had found a wayward family in the students in the dance school.
As children, there had been almost no competition.
We’d never had solos, just team routines where no one was the star.
That had all changed as we’d gotten older, roles within The Nutcracker and Swan Lake coveted. That had led to backstabbing and lies, parents who had money able to encourage their kid into receiving the most sought-after roles.
I’d been oblivious until I’d turned fourteen, catching my father threatening my favorite dance teacher if I wasn’t awarded the starring role. By that point, cliques had been formed and I’d rarely if ever been included.
I’d been the ugly kid with braces and long, unshapely legs.
Those had been the moments when I’d learned the power of beauty.
I’d worked through self-doubts that tonight’s performance should feel freeing, but the added pressure was on. I was stiff, which wasn’t like me, unable to find my center. Since Cole had found his way into the theater, I’d been off. Days of feeling uncertain of myself and what I was doing.
Then I’d gotten my stride, ignoring the naysayers and practicing every chance I’d gotten. I’d been the kid to find space to dance anywhere I went. My parents had finally relented, creating a dance studio inside our house in LA. I’d never wanted to leave, creating dances for various genres of music.
That’s why I’d been so insistent about how the piece I was dancing tonight was supposed to go. Now that I’d put my foot into my mouth, the performance had to be flawless.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Tori and Sienna approaching from the corridor leading to the dressing rooms. They were dancing together with a male dancer, one of the macho dudes in the troupe who truly believed he was the hottest man in the city.
The rumor mill had it all three were sleeping together.
Cozy.
As I’d experienced at the bar a few nights before, they stopped far enough away I couldn’t hear what they were saying. But I knew they were talking about me.
There was a particular way people pretended like they weren’t looking at you when in fact, they were using their x-ray vision so they could criticize your choice of underwear. I felt a nasty comment coming on.