Chapter 25
I see him less and less as the next two weeks pass, needing the distance to figure things out. I tell him I’m busy with my dad so that he doesn’t show up. Fear trickles into my gut every time I think about how hard it is to not be near him. It only strengthens my resolve to keep away.
I can’t completely avoid him, though. We already made plans to rent a room at my old dance school so I can teach him how to move.
I get there first and see the owner standing behind the desk. She is well past the age of being able to teach anymore and looks ready to retire.
“Hi, Madame Genvieve.”
She comes around the desk and gives me a big hug. I come by and say hi sometimes when I’m in town, but the last time we really talked was when I was eighteen.
“Look at you,” she says in her thick Louisiana accent. Her voice still sounds the same even though she is in her seventies.
“Look at you. I hope I age this well. You look like you just turned fifty.”
“Stop with your flattery, cher. I already gave you the room for free.”
“I’m being honest.”
She waves the words away and leans against the counter.
“I may look young, but I’m past my prime. I think it’s time to sell this place and go back home.”
I look around and see so many memories just in the reception area alone. I can’t imagine this place being something different.
“Well, I hope whoever buys it appreciates its history. You have started a lot of careers here. I know mine would be nowhere without you.”
“I’m actually hoping a former student buys it.” She looks at me with a clear intention in her eyes.
“Me?” I ask, my hand flying to my chest.
“Why not? You taught a few workshops in the summers, and you have made quite a name for yourself.”
Something jumps in my gut, a feeling I haven’t had for a long time.
I look around again, imagining this place as my own.
The idea feels more enticing than the one that would lead me back to LA.
Maybe this is my fresh start. Maybe this is my way to speak the language of dance again, or at the very least, teach it to someone else.
“I’m supposed to go back to LA next year.
I’m only here for a little bit.” I haven’t told anyone outside of my immediate friends and family about the diagnosis, but I’m sure she can see something is wrong with me by just looking.
I don’t look like the woman she has come to know. I don’t look like myself.
“Well, think about it, yeah? I’m going to be reaching out to people over the next few weeks.”
I nod, knowing I will. If only to further explore the excitement I felt at the possibility. This really could be the dream of the person I have come to be today. I’ve reached the goals of that little girl, and this new one might be for the woman.
Callahan walks in, ending the conversation. Genevieve looks him up and down before batting her eyelashes. Apparently she’s a cougar.
“Hello, fine young man. What can I do for ya?”
“I’m here for her,” he says, coming up and wrapping his arms around me.
I let him hold me for a few seconds before stepping out of his grasp. I don’t look at him to see how it’s affected him.
“Well, have fun you two.” She shoots me a wink and points in the direction of the room we are supposed to take.
“You ready?” I ask as soon as we get in the room.
“Sure,” he says, sounding the opposite of that.
I ignore it and plug my phone into the sound system in the room. “So hip hop or ballet?”
“Whatever you will want to use at our wedding.”
“Let’s focus on the present for now.”
I see him frown in the wall of mirrors, but don’t acknowledge it any further.
Despite what I said, I teach him hip hop because I know that’s what I want. I just won’t tell him that.
I start with a simple rocking two-step and then teach him how to cross his legs and pop forward. He picks it up pretty quickly, revealing his natural rhythm.
Seeing that he is up to the challenge, I make the steps a little more complicated.
He shows that he can keep up. Just as I’m about to put together a routine with what we learned, I feel my energy waning.
My breath is getting heavier, and my moves are sloppy.
I get through one more round before I have to sit.
“Fuck,” I yell, dropping my head into my hands.
“It’s okay.” His hand lands on my shoulder, and I shrug it off.
“No, it’s not. It’s only been twenty minutes. How am I supposed to do anything if I can’t last longer than twenty minutes?” I can’t stop the tears from sliding down my cheeks.
I sit up and furiously wipe them, like that will stop him from seeing it.
Looking at myself in the mirror only deflates me more. My lace edges are lifting from the sweat. Just another reminder that I don’t have hair. I look like crap, I feel like crap, and there is nothing I can do to change that.
I stand up and grab my bag, leaving without a word. I hear his footsteps echo after me.
“Monty, stop.”
I don’t listen. I just keep moving towards my car. It’s not until he puts his hand on the door, stopping me from opening it, that I face him.
“What?” I bark at him.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
I cross my arms and look down at the ground, fighting with myself not to give in to his comfort.
When it becomes clear that I’m not going to answer, he lifts my chin.
Looking into his eyes and seeing nothing but worry, I start to crack.
I can’t look away, and that just makes me even more desperate to escape.
“Come back to my place,” he says, not sounding like I have any choice.
I want to say no, but I can’t, which makes me panic more. He won’t back down, though, so I nod, and that finally gets him off my car.
Walking into his place, I don’t know what I’m doing here. The last thing I need right now is for him to see me fall apart again. It’s like he’s present for every mental breakdown, and I can’t keep having him pick up the pieces. I can’t keep needing him.
He pulls my hand until I’m sitting on the couch next to him. I sink into his arms, unable to resist any longer.
“What’s going on?” I don’t know if he is talking about my crying in the dance studio or about the fact that I’m barely returning his texts. I opt to answer the only thing I can.
“I don’t feel attractive anymore. I’ve lost everything, including my confidence.” Despite my best efforts, this disease has hollowed me out. Every chance it gets, it takes away my femininity and my surety in myself.
“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and that’s never changing.” He kisses my forehead and runs a hand down my face. I scoff and pull away from him a little bit.
“You don’t believe me?” he asks.
I shake my head.
Lifting me into his arms, he takes me to his room and puts me down on the bed. Gently kissing my lips, he trails his mouth down my neck until he is right at my collarbone. My breath hitches, and that little bit of stirring he can cause comes to life.
I know I need to keep the distance. But when his hands roam down my body, igniting me in the way he always does, I want more.
Briefly removing his mouth, he takes my sports bra off. Then he continues his journey until he is sucking on my nipple. The feeling of his warm mouth after the cold air has them hardening under his touch.
He pays equal attention to both of them, moving between each, while kneading whichever one his mouth isn’t on.
I lose my breath as he keeps kissing down my body while removing my pants. When I’m completely naked in front of him, he stands up.
Grabbing my hand, he places it on his crotch, letting me feel how hard he is.
“Do you see what you do to me? All of the time, just by looking at me with those eyes.”
He takes off his shirt and trails my other hand down his chest.
“Every night I imagine you doing this. I imagine you touching me.”
Next, he pulls at his pants and underwear until he is fully naked in front of me. Then he leans down and takes my face in his hands.
Against my lips, he whispers, “Your mind is like a siren call to my body, just hearing you talk unravels me.”
He kisses me before laying me back on the bed.
“The taste of your skin, of your lips, of the river between your legs is what I want to have first thing in the morning and the last thing at night.”
He trails down until he is in the very spot he is talking about.
Licking me from my opening to my clit he does so slowly, savoring me.
Soaking his face, he dives in and devours my entire being.
I pour everything that I am into his mouth as he laps up all of my pleasure.
When I come undone under his urgent tongue, he slides two fingers in while moving back up.
“I think about being inside of you so often that I’ve mapped the feel of your pussy in my mind.”
He shifts his fingers like he knows exactly where to touch, like he knows where every sweet spot exists. Pulling them out and pushing them back in, he curls and turns until I’m squeezing around him. Until I’m orgasming again and forgetting every doubt.
“No matter how your body changes, the feel of you in my hands makes me ready to give everything up just to hold you there.”
He cups my ass, lifting me until I’m on my knees, and then he turns me around, placing me on all fours.
“Monty, I’ve surpassed the feeling of want with you and gone directly to need. Having you once isn’t enough. I need you all of the time.” He kisses down my back, his tongue trailing the groove of my spine.
“You are the sexiest woman I have ever met in my entire life.”
Having previously discussed the lack of need for condoms, he slides right in. I throw my head back at the sensation of him filling me. He holds there, waiting for me to look at him.
“This,” he says, pulling out to the tip, “is because of you.” He slams back in so hard I shift up the bed.
“It’s hard because of you.” He does it again, this time grabbing on to my waist to keep me still.
“It needs you.” He’s fucking me in earnest now, his hands gripping me to the point of bruising while he pounds into me.
“Callahan, don’t stop.”
“I won’t stop until you feel how crazy you drive me, until you see yourself through my eyes.”
He pulls me up by my neck, lifting my whole body and bringing it down on his dick. The whole time, he repeats the words I need you. With every stroke, I feel those words. I feel how much he desires me. His touches are desperate, his kisses frantic as he shows me how much he craves being near me.
I grip him back, I hold so tight to his arms that my nails dig in. I want him to feel how much I need him too.
We keep fucking like that, frenzied, urgent, hungry. We don’t stop until I come two more times, and then he pours the last of what he has inside me.
When we collapse, he stays inside, slowly softening. We are so connected, I don’t know where he ends and I begin. I don’t know where I exist outside of him.
“I love you,” he says against my back.
“I love you, too,” I say, because how can I not? How can I deny him that truth when every part of me screams for him?
“I need you,” he says.
I don’t know what to do about the fact that I need him too.
So when he falls asleep, I leave. Because one day it might be him walking out that door, and I won’t survive it.