Chapter 11 #2
When we finish, Greyson gives us a nod of approval.
“Good. That was solid, but there’s always room for improvement.
With the holidays around the corner, I want you guys to be mindful of the food you eat and the alcohol you consume.
” His eyes meet mine, but he doesn’t point out my sobriety as he continues.
“The studio will be open still as Vaeda and I work through the holidays every year. You are still welcome to come and practice. In fact, I insist that you do.”
“Thank you, Greyson,” Yvonne murmurs before taking a drink of water.
I grab a water bottle from my bag, catching my breath before turning to him. “Where’s Vaeda?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
Greyson hesitates, his expression unreadable. “It’s her birthday,” he reveals finally. “She’s taking the day off.”
“Her birthday?” Yvonne echoes, her brow lifting. “And she didn’t tell us?”
“Vaeda’s not exactly the celebratory type,” Greyson admits with a grin. “But there’s a surprise party for her later. You’re both welcome to come.”
I glance at Yvonne, who’s already nodding enthusiastically. “Of course we’ll come,” she gushes. “I’ll tell Adam and Kari too. Right, Mateo?”
I hesitate, the idea of stepping into Vaeda’s personal life feeling strange, but Greyson’s expectant gaze and Yvonne’s excitement leave little room for refusal.
“Sure,” I relent as trepidation trickles down my back. “Why not?”
Greyson claps his hands together. “Perfect. Now, let’s get back to work. Paris won’t wait for anyone.”
As the music starts again, I push thoughts of the party aside, focusing on the here and now.
Despite that, the fear of being around alcohol creeps back in.
It’s been well over a year since I’ve tempted my weakness, but the idea of seeing Vaeda outside the studio trumps my fears of a relapse, which tells me this is completely reckless.
VAEDA
The penthouse is alive with chatter and the clink of glasses, the warm buzz of conversation mixing with the soft strains of a live jazz trio.
Gerardo has outdone himself, as always. The decorations are festive and will remain up as Christmas is just a few days away.
The floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the city skyline glittering against the night, and the space is filled with well-dressed guests laughing and toasting in celebration.
My birthday. My thirty-third, to be precise.
I’ve already had three martinis, which is two more than I usually allow myself, and the edges of the evening are starting to blur in a pleasant haze.
Gerardo glides effortlessly through the crowd, charming everyone as he goes, his radiant smile making him the perfect host. I should be happy, content even, but there’s a knot of guilt inside my chest I can’t quite untangle.
I’m standing near the bar when it happens. The shift. It’s subtle at first, like the air being sucked out of the room, the kind of change you feel before a thunderstorm. Then I turn, my hand tightening around the stem of my glass, and there they are.
Adam and Kari arrive first, their grins infectious as they gaze around the room. Then I see him. Mateo. And Yvonne. Together.
He’s wearing a fitted suit, dark and crisp, his hair styled just enough to look effortless.
She’s on his arm, radiant in a red cocktail dress that hugs her in all the right places, her smile wide as she says something to him.
He nods, his expression polite but distant, his gaze flickering over the room, and I just know he’s searching for me.
My stomach twists, the alcohol in my veins amplifying the heat that rises to my cheeks. I force myself to take a slow sip of my drink, but my hand trembles slightly. What the hell is he doing here? My gaze darts to Greyson, who’s by the grand piano, chatting with a group of guests. Of course.
I make my way across the room, my heels clicking against the marble floor, each step a strike of frustration. Greyson spots me before I reach him, his expression shifting into something between amusement and trepidation.
“Vae,” he says smoothly, lifting his glass in greeting. “Having a good time?”
“Why are they here?” I cut straight to the point, keeping my voice low but laced with irritation.
He takes a measured sip of his champagne, unbothered. “It’s your birthday. The more the merrier.”
“Don’t play coy with me, Grey,” I snap, stepping closer. “You know damn well that this isn’t about numbers. Why would you invite them?”
His gaze flicks past me, briefly landing on our four students before returning to mine. “They’re part of the studio, and it’s good for them to see you as more than just their instructor.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I mutter, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the group he’s entertaining. “We need to talk. Now.”
I drag him toward my bedroom, ignoring his half-hearted protests. Once inside, I shut the door firmly and turn to face him, my anger bubbling over.
“What were you thinking?” I hiss. “This is my home, Greyson, my personal space, and you invite our students? They’re a part of our job, not our personal life.”
He leans casually against the doorframe, his expression maddeningly calm. “They’re adults, Vae. They can handle a party.”
“That’s not the point,” I say, my voice sharp. “You know how complicated this is. Mateo is already…” I trail off, shaking my head. “He’s vulnerable, and Yvonne…”
“And Yvonne is harmless,” he interrupts, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’re projecting.”
My jaw tightens. “You think this is about me?”
“I think you’re overreacting,” he replies, crossing his arms. “You’ve had a few drinks and you’re letting your emotions get the better of you. They aren’t doing anything wrong. They’re just here to celebrate your birthday. That’s all.”
I glare at him, my frustration spilling over. “You don’t understand. This isn’t just about tonight. It’s about what this could mean for the studio, for them. For him.”
Greyson’s gaze softens slightly, and he steps closer. “Vaeda, I know you care about the studio and about Mateo’s sobriety, but you need to trust him. He’s stronger than you think.”
I look away, my arms wrapping around myself as the weight of his words sinks in. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” he agrees quietly. “But you have to let go a little. Let him make his own choices and let yourself breathe.”
The room falls silent, the irritation between us dissipating slightly. I glance at the door, knowing the party is still in full swing on the other side. Somewhere out there, Mateo and Yvonne are mingling, laughing, and living their lives while I’m in here, unraveling.
“Fine,” I relent, my voice resigned. “But if this blows up, it’s on you.”
Greyson smiles faintly, reaching for the door. “It won’t. Trust me.”
He leaves, the door clicking softly behind him, and I’m left alone in the quiet of my bedroom. I sit down on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. The martinis swirl in my veins, dulling the edges of my frustration but doing nothing to ease the ache inside my chest.
Forcing myself to stand, I smooth out my dress and straighten my posture. I’m not about to let this ruin my night.
The hallway is quieter than the main room, the sounds of the party sounding farther away as I step out of my bedroom.
I’m still reeling from my argument with Greyson, my thoughts tangled and restless, and the alcohol coursing through my veins isn’t helping.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply as I turn toward the main room.
And then I collide with him.
Strong hands steady me, gripping my arms gently but firmly. The familiar scent of clean soap and something distinctly Mateo fills my senses before I even look up. When I do, his dark eyes are locked on mine, wide with surprise but lined in appreciation, a lingering look that makes my pulse quicken.
“Vaeda,” he says softly, his voice low and filled with gravel. “Are you okay?”
“I…” My words catch in my throat as I nod, his touch alighting my skin with goose bumps I wasn’t prepared for. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”
We don’t move, and his hands remain on my arms, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of my dress.
The hallway seems to shrink around us, the air thickening with an anticipation that makes my skin prickle.
He’s so close, close enough that I can see the shadow of stubble on his jaw and the way his throat bobs as he swallows.
“Happy birthday,” he murmurs after a moment, his lips curving into a small, hesitant smile, then his hands drop away, leaving my skin cold in their absence.
“Thank you,” I manage, the words sounding strangled.
He takes a step back, but then he leans in, his movement slow and deliberate.
“I hope it’s a good one,” he rasps, his breath brushing against my cheek and his lips pressing against my skin, soft and warm, just shy of my jawline.
I feel the heat of him, the way his presence seems to wrap around me, stealing the air from my lungs.
But then it happens. I shift, barely, instinctively leaning into the moment, and his lips graze the corner of my mouth.
It’s fleeting, an accidental brush that sends a shockwave through me.
My breath catches, and I know he feels it too because he pulls back abruptly, his eyes wide and searching mine.
“I…” he starts, his voice unsteady, but the words don’t come. He runs a hand through his hair, his movements tense and unsure. “I should…”
I nod, my heart pounding inside my chest. “Yes, of course.”
The sound of footsteps draws my attention, and my stomach twists as I spot Yvonne at the end of the hall.
She’s standing near the entrance to the main room, her expression frozen somewhere between shock and confusion.
Her eyes dart between Mateo and me, her lips parting slightly as if she’s about to say something.
Mateo sees her too, his posture stiffening as he takes another step back, putting more distance between us. “I was just coming from the bathroom,” he explains quickly, loud enough to be heard by both her and I.
I nod, though the gesture feels hollow, and stand rooted in place, my legs locked. There’s no doubt in my mind that she caught the end of our interaction, and now I’ve put the studio at risk.
He turns and walks toward Yvonne, who doesn’t move as he passes her. Her gaze lingers on me, her brows knitting together in a silent question I don’t have the answer to. The weight of her stare feels like a judgment, though I’m not sure who she’s judging more: him or me.
I stand there, frozen, as the two of them disappear into the party. My hand drifts to my lips, the ghost of his touch still burning against my skin. The knot inside my chest tightens, and for the first time in a long while, I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore.