Chapter 10 #2
The silence stretches, filled only by the slight buzz of the fluorescent lights. Mateo stands near the mirror, his hands on his hips, his head tilted downward. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths, but there’s something about his stillness that unsettles me.
I take a step forward, my heels clicking softly against the hardwood. “Mateo,” I call out, my voice gentler than usual. “Are you okay?”
He looks up, his dark eyes meeting mine. For a moment, he doesn’t answer, his expression guarded. Then he sighs, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Not really.”
The honesty in his tone surprises me, and I close the distance between us, stopping a few feet away. “What’s going on?”
He hesitates, his gaze flickering to the floor before returning to mine.
“I’ve been coming here in secret,” he admits, the words rushing out of him as though he’s broken the dam he built to protect himself.
“My family doesn’t know. They don’t trust me, Vaeda.
They think if I’m around this world again, I’ll fall back into old habits. ”
My heart tightens at his words. The burden of the secret he carries is evident in the slump of his shoulders, in the anxiety that radiates from him. “But you’ve stayed clean,” I state, keeping my tone steady.
He nods, a small, bitter smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve worked so hard for it. Every day feels like a battle, and now, with Paris…” he trails off, running a hand through his hair. “What if I let everyone down? What if I can’t handle it?”
I step closer, instinct taking over as I reach out and place a hand on his arm. The contact startles him, his eyes snapping to mine. “Listen to me,” I demand, my voice stern. “You wouldn’t be here if we didn’t believe in you. Greyson, the studio, even me. We see what you’re capable of.”
His gaze softens as he leans in, his eyes searching mine. “And what do you see, Vaeda?”
The question catches me off guard, my breath hitching, and for a moment, I’m not sure how to respond. “I see someone who’s stronger than they give themselves credit for,” I finally admit, something I wouldn’t have said a few months ago. “Someone who’s fighting like hell to rewrite their story.”
The space between us feels smaller now, charged with electricity. His eyes hold mine, dark and intense, and I’m acutely aware of the warmth of his skin under my hand. The air seems to thicken, the quiet pressing in around us.
“Vaeda,” he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence. His hand lifts slowly, as if in slow motion, and his fingers brush against my chin. The touch sends arcs of electricity over my skin as I suck in a breath.
His tongue snakes out along his bottom lip, leaving behind a trail of moisture, the sight nearly making me forget everything I am and all I have. Nearly.
“Mateo,” I rasp softly, my hand falling away from his arm. The connection breaks as I draw in a much-needed breath. “We can’t do this.”
He exhales sharply, nodding once. “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t,” I assure him, though my voice wavers slightly. “But we both need to stay focused. Paris is what matters right now.”
He nods again, his expression unreadable. “You’re right.”
I take another step back, putting more distance between us. The silence stretches once more, laden with words left unsaid. Then I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin. “Get some rest. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”
He offers a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good night, Vaeda.”
“Good night, Mateo.”
I watch as he gathers his bag and heads for the door, his steps soft and uncertain. So unlike the confidence he exudes on the dance floor. When the door closes behind him, I exhale slowly, my hand brushing over my face. Whatever just happened, it’s not something I can afford to dwell on. Not now.
The studio is eerily quiet, the thrum of the lights the only sound. I stand there, staring at the door long after Mateo has left. My heart is still racing, my mind replaying the moment he leaned in. I had stepped away, but the intensity lingered, wrapping around me like a ghost.
I’m married. I’m his instructor. I’m ten years older than him.
Every reason why this is wrong feels like a boulder on my chest, pressing the air from my lungs, and yet…
I can’t stop wondering. What if I hadn’t stepped back?
What if I had let him close the distance?
What would his lips feel like against mine?
The thought sends a shiver down my spine with equal parts thrill and shame.
I shake my head, forcing the thoughts away. This is dangerous. Reckless. Mateo is vulnerable, trying to piece his life back together. And me? I have a husband waiting for me at home. A man who has stood by me through everything. What kind of person does this make me?
With a sigh, I walk to the mirrored wall and press my palms against the cool surface, letting my forehead rest against the glass.
The reflection staring back at me is too raw and exposed.
I’ve always prided myself on my control, my ability to maintain composure no matter the circumstance, but tonight, that composure cracked, and I’m not sure how to piece it back together.
After a long moment, I push away from the mirror and begin locking up the studio.
I double-check the doors and turn off the lights, leaving the space shrouded in darkness.
When I step outside, the city greets me with a fresh layer of snow.
The flakes fall gently, settling on my hair and coat as I stand there, staring up at the sky.
The world feels still, hushed by the snow’s quiet insistence. I take a deep breath, the cold air filling my lungs and clearing my mind. Whatever this is, this pull toward Mateo, I have to bury it. For his sake and mine, and for everything I’ve worked so hard to build.
With that resolve, I pull my coat tighter around me and step onto the sidewalk, the snow crunching softly beneath my boots as I head home.