Chapter 36
Rayne
Fuck It, I Love You—Lana Del Rey
It’s already dark by the time I walk across campus to the practice building for the second time that day. Bright light spills out of the tall windows, but I can’t see anyone from down here.
Most people have finished training for the day, and I’d normally be the last one to go back in the evening for more, but today I’m too restless. I have been ever since I started thinking seriously about the choreography for “Dance with You ’Til Midnight.”
The practice building is quiet; apart from my footsteps, I can’t hear a sound.
Until I reach the second floor. Soft piano music drifts into the stairwell, and I don’t know why, but instead of continuing up to the third floor as planned, I walk down the second-floor hallway.
I just follow the music until I spot a blond girl in the second studio on the left.
I’m not all that surprised when I recognize Lia. She’s dancing, and she’s beautiful.
Her movements are fluid and graceful. It looks so easy. But I know how incredibly exhausting what she’s doing is. I know how much her feet must hurt in those pointe shoes. I know how tense every muscle in her body is.
But you can’t see the effort, and I guess that’s what happens when you combine true talent and a dream you’re willing to cross every boundary for. Her short tutu flutters as she spins. She’s perfect. A half step, then she gathers momentum and spins again. And again. And again.
I count along, mesmerized. Fouetté en tournant, one of the most spectacular spins in ballet, especially when repeated as many times as Lia is doing now.
Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. She keeps going.
In Swan Lake, this spin is repeated thirty-two times.
There are only a few dancers who can perform it perfectly so many times in a row without a break.
Lia is perfect. More than perfect; she’s breathtaking. I stare at her and can’t move, even though I shouldn’t be here at all, let alone watching her.
But when someone like Lia is dancing, you can’t just look away.
The expression on her face is soft, and a smile plays around her full lips, even though I know she must be concentrating intensely. But smiling is drilled into dancers just like any other exercise.
She manages twenty-five turns before losing her balance. Cursing, she catches herself and leans on her thighs with both hands. Her chest rises and falls as she breathes quickly. Only now can you see the effort she’s making. A deep crease forms between her eyebrows. She looks dissatisfied.
With a frustrated sigh, she straightens up and stretches her legs. I try to sneak away as inconspicuously as possible, because there’s nothing worse than being caught secretly watching someone, but I’m a little too slow.
Lia turns toward the corridor, her gaze darting from her bag, which is lying next to the door, to me.
When she spots me, the disappointment on her face disappears instantly.
She puts on a friendly smile like a mask.
A very pretty mask that I almost would have believed was real if I hadn’t just seen her without it.
Something tells me she doesn’t take it off very often.
“Hey,” she says, and I raise my hand awkwardly.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You didn’t.” She waves it off, but something in her eyes makes me think she’s not telling the truth. Even though I don’t know her and we haven’t spoken before, it’s absolutely clear.
“I just wanted to . . .” I start, gesturing vaguely toward one of the other studios. “You’re so good,” I say instead, in a stupid attempt to save the situation with small talk. It’s instantly clear I’ve said the wrong thing.
“Thanks.” Her smile slips almost imperceptibly, her eyes flicker, and suddenly I see something of myself in her.
It’s absurd, because Lia is more graceful and talented than anyone else I’ve seen at this school.
She’s even better than Zoe, and Zoe is damn good.
But the insecurity in Lia’s green eyes is familiar. She doesn’t think she’s good enough.
An awkward silence takes over. I shift uneasily from one foot to the other and force a smile. “I’m going to leave now. I actually wanted to work on the choreography for contemporary . . .”
Lia nods. “Good luck.” Then she turns back to the mirror, and I hurry away.
The studios on the third floor are all deserted.
I choose the last one on the right, throw my bag in the corner, and pull my hoodie over my head.
Wearing only a T-shirt, leggings, and socks, I start my warm-up exercises, but my thoughts are still with Lia and the look in her eyes.
I wonder if it should make me feel better that she’s just as insecure as I am, even though she’s obviously so much better than most of the other dancers at this school.
Maybe it should reassure me that I’m not alone in feeling that way, but it doesn’t.
It just makes me sad that Lia seems to feel the same way despite her talent.
“Hey, Birdy.” Easton’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I can’t help but smile when I see him in the doorway, both hands buried in the pockets of his sweatpants, wearing the hat I’ve worn every day for the past few weeks.
I get up happily and walk over to him. “Hey.”
He pulls me toward him as if he’s done it a thousand times before and kisses me in a way that takes my breath away.
When we pull apart, my face is already glowing with heat again. Smiling, he brushes a strand of hair from my forehead.
“Hey,” he whispers again, an octave lower than before, and my brain shuts down. There’s nothing but fog in my head, and the heat moves down from my cheeks, settling in my chest, my stomach, my lower abdomen, until it starts throbbing urgently between my legs.
He caresses my chin, playing with my hair, and I can’t think anymore when he’s doing that.
But I have to be able to think, because there’s a reason he’s here now.
And even though I can think of one pretty good reason that has a lot to do with his mouth, his hands, and the rest of his body, that’s not what we’re here to do.
I force myself to take a step back so my mind can start working again. Easton’s blue eyes light up knowingly, shining with amusement.
“How was your day?” I ask, clearing my throat because my voice sounds so hoarse.
“Unspectacular.” He shrugs. “The record store was busy.”
“Sounds like a good thing.”
“Good for the store, bad for me and the songs I was hoping to have time to work on if there hadn’t been so many people.” He smiles. “How was your day?”
“Good, I think. I was working on choreography for our song. I started, at least. I don’t have much yet.
But that’s why I wanted you to come. I thought you could play the song, and I’ll show you what I have so far.
I had everything in my head at lunchtime, but it’s different when I actually hear the music. ”
“That’s the only reason you wanted me to come?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He smiles, and I feel way too hot again.
“That’s the only reason,” I confirm, trying in vain not to let him see what he’s doing to me.
He sighs with disappointment, but I don’t buy it for a second. “That’s sad.”
“I know. Very sad.” I nod seriously and move backward toward the grand piano by the mirror. My pulse is racing. This isn’t why we’re here, but somehow it is.
“Incredibly sad.” Easton follows me until I finally bump into the piano with my butt and can no longer avoid him. Not that I want to.
He leans over me, supporting himself with both hands on the lid behind me.
I’m trapped between his arms, but I’ve never felt safer.
I feel his warmth and forget how to think and breathe again.
I inhale his familiar scent and it’s almost too much for me.
I’m overwhelmed by his closeness, by the way he smells and the way he presses me against the piano until I feel like I’m falling backward.
But I can’t fall. The instrument is behind me and he’s in front of me, making sure I stay standing.
His lips brush against my mouth, and I moan. My eyelids flutter shut. I can’t resist him.
“Don’t forget to breathe, Birdy,” he says, and I can feel his grin. Then he kisses me. Not like before. This isn’t a kiss of greeting. It’s a being-completely-alone-in-a-ballet-studio-and-way-too-in-love kiss.
My mouth opens, and then I breathe. I breathe him in. I feel his tongue on mine and the heat in my abdomen. The throbbing between my legs comes back, more urgent than before. It drives me crazy in a good way.
Easton groans as I press my hips against him, and now he’s the one not breathing, which makes me happy.
“Don’t forget to breathe, Easton,” I whisper into his mouth, just like he did to me, except this time I’m the one kissing him. Deeply and hungrily, because I can’t do it any other way.
I can feel his erection and I’m relieved that he’s only wearing sweatpants rather than the jeans he had on this morning.
I can feel everything through the soft fabric.
His hands wander under my T-shirt, and I sigh as he caresses my bare skin, from my hip bones up my stomach to my breasts.
I’m wearing a thin bustier, but that doesn’t stop him, and God, I’m so glad it doesn’t.
I didn’t know it could be so exciting to kiss someone in a place where you’re not supposed to kiss.
After all, this is a school, and someone could catch us at any moment.
But it’s late, and no one is up here at this hour.
Our studio is at the back of the building.
The window looks out onto the administration building, which is also empty this late at night.
We’re completely alone, but if I’m being honest, the thrill that someone might come and ruin everything is also what makes this so damn hot.
Easton’s mouth wanders from my lips to my neck, and I have to bite my lower lip to suppress the moan that tries to escape as his tongue glides over my skin. He hears it anyway. His pupils are dilated with desire and his lips are a little swollen. Because of me.
Easton slides both hands under my bottom and lifts me up. He sets me down on the piano. The wood is cool, and I can feel it through the fabric of my leggings. My skin, on the other hand, is burning.
My feet rest on the lid that protects the keys. I spread my legs just wide enough for him to slide between them. I need him closer. Once again, his mouth finds mine. He leans over me, and I lift my hips toward him, a bittersweet pressure building inside.
Easton pulls away from me, his gaze burning into mine. His fingers close around the waistband of my leggings, a silent question in his eyes.
“Do you want this, Birdy?” he whispers hoarsely, because he wants to do it right. Yes, I do. Way too much. His voice sends hot shivers down my spine, and at that moment, I realize his voice was the first thing I fell in love with.
That voice, like silk on sandpaper. That’s what I thought the first time I heard it. I remember it so clearly.
“Yes,” I whisper. My mouth is dry, my heart is beating too fast. I know we shouldn’t be doing this right now, not here, but God, I don’t care. Nothing matters except this unbearable longing inside me. I need him to do something about it, because otherwise I’m going to die.
I lift my hips again, and this time he pulls my leggings and panties off in one fluid motion.
The fabric lands on the floor with a soft rustle.
My T-shirt—one that I stole from him last night—slides up my hips as Easton pushes me firmly onto the grand piano.
Now I notice how cold the wood actually is.
I swallow. My whole body is throbbing, nothing but burning heat. I’m on fire.
Easton pushes up my shirt and bustier, exposing my breasts. He brushes his lips over my nipples, his tongue teasing me, and I moan with longing, a wordless plea. He gives me more, moving his mouth down my stomach, lower and lower. I gasp for air when I feel his tongue right where I need it.
My head falls back and I sink onto the piano until I’m lying in front of him, legs spread, completely exposed. Nothing has ever felt as good as his head between my legs, his tongue on me.
I moan as he slides a finger inside me, slowly, teasingly, driving me crazy.
His tongue moves in the same rhythm, and I’m dying.
Gasping, I writhe beneath his touch, the room blurring around me.
My fingers find his hair, tugging as he dives into me.
He’s the only thing I can feel, licking, moving his finger inside me, harder, deeper, faster.
My hips thrust forward and he places a hand on my lower abdomen, pressing gently but firmly, and I don’t know why, but the pressure causes a wave of glistening heat to shoot through my body. My muscles cramp around his fingers and I moan, forgetting who I am, where I am, and why we’re here.
Easton straightens up as my body comes to rest again.
It feels heavy and light at the same time and doesn’t seem to belong to me anymore, because it no longer obeys me.
I blink up at him, his mouth glistening.
I’d like to sit up, but unfortunately my muscles aren’t cooperating.
Easton pulls me up and kisses me. I can taste myself on his tongue.
“That’s why you shouldn’t come here,” I murmur.
I can feel him smile. “But I like coming here.”
He kisses me again. He can come here anytime he wants.