Chapter One
CHAPTER ONE
“THIS BETTER BE the call where you tell me you came to your senses and decided to move back home.”
Liam chuckled at the blunt greeting from one of his sassiest friends. “Hello to you, too, Erin.” A shock of longing washed over him. He’d known he’d miss his best friend and former roommate, but hearing her voice after seven days apart drove home how difficult this transition would be.
“Sweetie…” The silence that followed conveyed her continued confusion with his decision to move from their swanky Manhattan apartment to the middle of nowhere, Oklahoma, to open a dance studio.
He sighed as he glanced around the room that needed work he had no idea how to complete. Floors needed buffing, the barre needed replacing, and the floors in the locker rooms were straight out of the nineteen seventies.
Hideous.
“This isn’t some flight of fancy, Er. You know I’ve been planning this for a long time. Years before we met.” As brand-new students at Julliard, it seemed like they met as two eighteen-year-olds a lifetime ago, wide-eyed and terrified but bursting with excited ambition. It had taken them two-point-two seconds to become friends, and they’d stayed that way for the past seven years.
“I know,” she said, and he could hear the pout in her voice. Her long, graceful neck led to a slender face with high cheekbones and thin lips that didn’t pout well. Nine times out of ten, Erin kept her long, blonde hair in a high bun, making her the picture-perfect ballerina. “I know, Liam, but why now?”
He shrugged even though she couldn’t see him through the phone. The familiar ache and stiffness in his right shoulder reminded him he hadn’t stretched that morning. “I’m getting old, Er. It’s time.”
Her inelegant snort made him grin. “You’re twenty-five, which also happens to be my age, so don’t think I didn’t notice the insult there. Twenty-five is not old, Liam, even in the dance world.”
“It’s not young.” Fresh, new young dancers joined the company all the time, hungry for the lead roles and ready to usurp the twenty-five-year-old geezers.
“Okay, I’ll give you that, but it’s not old enough to throw away an incredible career where you travel the world and do the thing you not only love but are amazing at.” Her frustration came through the phone loud and clear. “I just don’t get it.”
Of course she didn’t. Who would? He barely got it himself. Yes, he was twenty-five, and he had an old shoulder injury that drove him bananas, but it hadn’t slowed him down. He never let it. He didn’t have to leave New York. No one had even hinted that he’d reached the downslide in his career. His instructors, fans, and company members loved him and had been flabbergasted at his decision to end his career so early.
But, as he’d mentioned to Erin, this had been his plan for a decade. He wanted to bring world-class dance lessons to a place that never had it before. And he’d chosen Swan, Oklahoma, as that place. Swan was a small Midwest town surrounded by cornfields. The closest dance studio was an hour away in Tulsa. The children of Swan didn’t have the opportunities he and Erin had growing up for many reasons. Access to studios and teachers, financial hardships, and stigmas were a few reasons the studio he’d purchased had closed its doors and remained vacant for over fifteen years.
Liam planned to change all that.
A hefty inheritance from his grandmother and a successful career as a premier ballet dancer had given him the means to bring his dream to life. In exactly one month, Dance For All would open its doors to the rural town of Swan. He’d provide expert dance classes for toddlers to adults at affordable prices. Bringing his passion to rural communities was the dream he’d harbored for more than a decade.
Liar.
“Li?”
He blinked. “Sorry, my mind wandered to my six-foot-long to-do list.” Blowing out a breath, he strode to the center of the empty studio room. Staring at himself in the wall mirror, he said, “I know you don’t get it, Erin. But this is what I want. This is what makes me happy.”
“Hmm.”
His eyebrows winged up. Maybe he should have FaceTimed her instead of calling. It was always easier to pick up on subtleties when he could see someone’s face. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He scoffed. “Nothing? Since when do you hold back?”
“Since never,” she said with a laugh. “I just know this is a sensitive topic for you.”
“Erin…”
He could practically feel her rolling her eyes. “Fine, I’ll say it. I think your burning desire to move to Bumfuck Oklahoma is less about your passion for teaching and more about you having something to prove to the world.”
Her words were sharp arrows pinging off his non-existent emotional armor.
“That’s ridiculous.” He might not have armor, but he had denial. And nervous laughter.
“Is it? If you were here right now, could you look me in the eye and tell me you’re not out there in the middle of nowhere trying to prove something to yourself and the hillbillies who live there?”
“Don’t call them hillbillies. It’s rude,” he muttered.
What were the chances she wouldn’t notice he avoided her question?
Slim to none, most likely.
“You’re saying it wasn’t hillbillies who—”
Oh no. No, no, no. “Don’t go there, Erin. Please don’t go there.”
His shoulder throbbed.
Erin sighed, and a heavy silence fell between them.
Damn her for calling him on his bullshit. Weren’t besties supposed to turn a blind eye to their friend’s shortcomings? Not that he and Erin had ever rolled that way, but he just couldn’t do this today. Or ever. “Er…”
“Okay. I get it. I’ll stop.”
He could practically see her lifting her hands in surrender. “Thank you.”
“So,” she said after another silence. “What are you planning to do on your first Friday night in Swan, Oklahoma? A hay ride? Maybe some cow tipping? Oh, I know. You’re gonna go pick some corn and eat it fresh from the stalk or whatever it’s called.”
Liam laughed, and the tension dissolved. “You know cow tipping isn’t actually a thing, right?”
“Pfft, don’t ruin my city-girl stereotypes of rural America.”
“Actually, I think I’m going to drive to Tulsa and check out this club called Stardust.”
“Ooh, Stardust. Might this be a gay club?”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Erin, there are gay clubs west of Manhattan.”
She sniffed. “Sure, but I bet they’re not as good as ours.”
“I’ll be sure to call and give you a full report tomorrow.”
“You better. Especially if you meet a sexy farmer in overalls and a John Deere ball cap. Oh, do you think guys out there drive their tractors to the clubs?”
“Oh my God,” he said, laughing. “Could you typecast the people who live here anymore?”
“If someone brings a chicken, I want you to text me a pic.”
“A chicken? In a club? You should be ashamed of yourself.” He shook his head but couldn’t keep from smiling.
“Remember, Li, it’s not the size of his farm that matters, but what he can grow on it.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Wait, wait! Don’t hang up.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What?”
“I’ve got a great pickup line for you. Is that an ear of corn in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” She rushed the words out, knowing he’d make good on his threat.
“Goodbye, Erin.” He hit ‘end call’ at the sound of her loud laughter. Shaking his head, he pocketed the phone in his jeans but had to admit she’d lifted his mood. She’d also made him nostalgic for the life he’d left behind.
Two weeks ago, he and Erin, along with the rest of their friend group, mostly dancers in their company, hit up a brand-new swanky club on the Lower Eastside. They’d danced the night away surrounded by other trendy twenty-somethings in the glitz and glamor of New York.
He lied when he told her he planned to go to a club in Tulsa tonight. He’d found one, that was true, but he planned on binge-watching something mindless while eating a tub of ice cream and contemplating how big of a mistake he had made with his life. If he’d admitted that, she might get on a plane and drag him back to New York.
Maybe he should go out. Perhaps he should start this new phase of life by being social and exploring instead of hiding away in his shoebox apartment.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, seeing the fear he refused to acknowledge aloud. But eyes never lied, and his held a world of trepidation. How was he supposed to create a life in this town if he was too scared to venture to the one place where he’d be accepted for who he was?
“Damn you, Erin,” he muttered. “Something to prove, my ass.”
But he did have something to prove, didn’t he? It was the whole reason for uprooting his life and moving to Swan.
“No!” he snapped at his reflection. “I’m here to teach. To bring the New York Ballet to a rural town.”
He swore his reflection snickered and rolled its eyes.
“Fuck it.” Liam marched out of the studio and up the back stairs to the small apartment that came with the lease. The prior owner used it as storage, but he needed a place to live, so he decided to make it his home.
A few hours later, he stood beyond the club doorway, having received his admittance stamp and a serious once-over from the massive bouncer. The good news was Erin had been way off base.
Not a chicken or overalls in sight.
The bad news—the place was tacky as hell, cringeworthy, even. A rainbow disco ball hung over the center of the dance floor, spinning and bouncing dizzying rainbow lights throughout the room. Colorful streamers dangled from the ceiling as though someone had hit up Party City before coming to work at the club.
But the place was full of men and a few women drinking, dancing, and groping like any other club. He blew out a breath and a ton of tension with it. So far, Swan seemed to have a gay population of one courtesy of his moving to town. He’d been too stubborn to admit it, even to himself, but for the past three days, he’d felt like Alice falling down that damn rabbit hole. Going from New York to Swan was a culture shock he’d been less prepared for than he’d thought.
At least in the tacky Stardust Club, he could be himself. This place could become a refuge when he grew tired of being stoic. When the whispers and stares grew too much or the bigots too loud.
Tulsa wasn’t Manhattan, but it would do.
“What can I get you, hot stuff?” A bartender wearing a black fishnet tank top leaned across the bar. A silver nipple ring peeked through his netting, catching the disco lights. He was only an inch or two taller than Liam’s five-nine but had a platinum-blond fauxhawk that added two inches.
“Gin and tonic. Two limes, please.”
“Sure thing.” The bartender set about concocting his drink of choice. “Haven’t seen you around here before, cutie. You visiting?”
“Uh, no, I just moved here. Well, to Swan.”
The bartender grimaced and poured an extra splash of gin into the drink. “You’re gonna need that. Why the hell would you move there?” He deposited the drink in front of Liam, who snorted a laugh.
“Maybe I’ll figure it out after a few of these. Thanks.” He dropped cash on the bar, lifted the drink, and took a healthy swig.
The bartender gathered up the payment. “Well, have fun tonight, man. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of you around here.”
Liam saluted him with his drink, then turned and faced the crowd. Since he didn’t have any friends to chat with, he finished his drink in record time. The alcohol hit his bloodstream, chasing away his inhibition. With a smile, he set his empty glass on the bar and strode out into the throng of gyrating men to do what he did best—dance.