Chapter Fourteen Allegra #2
“Of course. Thank you for spotting.” Even though it doesn’t feel needed, I know the last thing I need a week before an audition is an injury.
I turn to Cord before he can ask. “And yes, you can also put your hands on me.” It’s not the first time I’ve given him permission to touch me, but it is the first time my cheeks have heated as I’ve said it.
I clear my throat and turn my attention to the mirror so I don’t have to make eye contact.
Unfortunately, Cord’s eyes in the reflection are only slightly less potent than his eyes directly gazing into mine.
Noah moves off to the side as Cord steps up behind me. “Okay, so first I want to try this one where you’ll end up upside down. Your hand will wrap around my thigh and then I’ll transition you into a cradle.” His hands land on my lower back and he counts us off.
I jump as he lifts, his hands rotating me into position. He holds me up in the air for longer than needed so he can guide my hand movements, then he spins me around and I end up cradled in his arms before he sets my feet back on the ground.
I didn’t really know what to expect, because you never know what to expect when partnering someone new, but Cord’s hands are strong yet gentle, his grip firm enough to make me feel safe, but not so tight as to be bruising.
Even though we’ve never done anything like this together before, we immediately have a balance, like we’ve been partners for years.
We do the lift a couple of times, until it’s smooth and seamless. Noah only needs to step in once, and even then, his assistance is barely needed.
“Cool,” Cord says. “Let’s try one that’s a little tougher.” He takes a few large strides away from me, putting a decent amount of space between us. “I want you to run, jump into my arms, and then I’m going to push you up. Your hands can balance on my shoulders, I’ll keep a grip on your hips.”
Noah whistles, reminding me that it isn’t just me and Cord alone in the studio this time. He moves so he’s standing behind Cord, ready to be an extra set of hands in case something goes wrong.
“Need a minute?” Cord asks, giving me space to freak out about launching myself at him and expecting him to catch me.
“No, I’m good.” And I am. I know he won’t drop me. “Ready?”
Cord nods and I take off, running just a couple of steps before leaping. Cord catches me by the hips easily, using my momentum to swing me up into the air. My hands find purchase on his shoulders and he steadies me, first with two hands. Once I’m stable and balanced, he drops one hand.
We hold the pose for a few seconds before he lowers me to the ground.
“That feel okay for you?”
I nod. “Do you want to try it with me going hands-free? It felt pretty steady on my end.”
Cord nods his agreement and we take our starting position once again.
I don’t miss how Noah moves closer to Cord, but I put all my focus on launching myself into Cord’s arms. He swings me up in the air just as effortlessly this time.
Once I’m steadily balanced on his one hand, I remove my hands from his shoulders, inching them away from the strength of his arms in case I need to grab on again.
But Cord doesn’t even flinch under the added weight and I don’t so much as wobble.
“Why don’t you toss and catch her for the dismount?” Noah suggests, coming around in front of Cord. “You feel okay with that, Allegra?”
“Yup.” I say as little as possible, not wanting to take focus away from controlling my breathing and keeping my abs tight.
Cord bends his knees a bit before tossing me up in the air.
I spin once and land perfectly in the cradle of his arms. It’s warm and safe and our faces are so close together, I can see the stubble dotting his chin and the fleck of green swimming among the blue in his right eye.
He shifts me in his arms, holding me tighter rather than putting me down.
My hands are around his neck and my fingers brush the long strands of hair at his nape.
His breath catches and I’m pretty sure the gap between our mouths shifts closer.
“You two are making this look ridiculously easy.” Noah claps Cord on the back, breaking the spell.
Cord sets me back down on the ground, his hands lingering for just a second too long. He clears his throat. “I have just a couple more, if you’re up for it.”
“Sure.” My stomach is flipping, but I don’t think it has anything to do with the lifts, or the literal flips.
Cord runs us through two more lifts, each one smoother than the last. Noah continues to not be needed for much beyond color commentary and the occasional reminder that we’re not alone here in the studio.
Neither Cord nor I say much beyond his concise instructions and my tacit acknowledgment of the steps.
We work quickly and efficiently, and I don’t let myself linger in his embrace for longer than is absolutely necessary.
When Cord declares the session complete, Noah offers to walk me to the subway. Cord’s jaw tenses when I agree, but he doesn’t say anything beyond a simple goodbye. And neither do I.
I don’t hear from him again until the weekend rolls around, when he texts to wish me luck for my upcoming shows.
Cord: Auditions are Tuesday, right?
Me: Yes.
Cord: Can you come to the studio Monday night? It will give us a chance for one more lesson.
Me: Sure. I’ll see you then.
Cord: Merde, Slippers.
Me: Thanks. Good night, Cord.
Cord: Good night.
On Saturday afternoon, just as I’m getting ready to leave for the theater, my email pings with an incoming message.
I check my phone and see it’s from Ava. They’ve sent me the final proofs from my boudoir shoot, and even though I need to be on my way, I drop my ballet bag near my front door and swipe the message open.
I can’t wait to see the photos and I’m not going to risk opening them in the dressing room where anyone could be looking over my shoulder.
My breath catches as I scroll through the photos.
If I didn’t know better, I would think the person in these photos was a stranger.
Someone sexy and confident, who knows just how beautiful she is.
I flip through picture after picture, each one more captivating than the last. It’s not just my body, which even I can admit looks phenomenal, there’s a spark in my eyes, a fire I don’t always see. A fire I don’t usually feel.
I can’t put into words what it feels like to see myself like this. I look beautiful. I look fucking hot.
I look like someone who is comfortable in her own skin. No, not just comfortable, someone who relishes and revels in her skin.
I look like someone I haven’t felt like in a really long time. Maybe ever.
I don’t realize that tears have pooled in my eyes until they’re spilling down my cheeks.
“Shit,” I mutter, wiping under my eyes. The last thing I need is to be puffy before a performance. I click off my phone and pick up my bag. I need to head out or I’m going to be late for my self-imposed call time.
But I don’t open the front door, my fingers drawn instead back to my phone. I punch in my passcode and open my messages.
Me: I got the photos from my shoot with Ava back.
Cord: Awesome! Are you happy with how they came out?
Me: Beyond happy.
Me: I don’t know what to say, Cord. I never would have thought to do something like that for myself, and I never would have thought it would make me feel so…
Cord: So sexy?
Me: So confident.
Me: But also sexy, I suppose.
Cord: Good. That was the goal.
I bite my lip, typing and erasing the next message three times before I finally decide, fuck it, and hit send.
Me: Do you want to see some of the shots?
I watch the typing bubbles dance along the bottom of my screen for what feels like an hour.
Cord: Do you want me to see them?
Me: I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.
Cord: Then I would love to, Slippers.
I suck in a breath, suddenly doubting myself. Why the fuck did I ask him that?
Cord: It’s okay if you change your mind and don’t want to send them.
I smile, because of course he’s going to give me an out.
I flick through the photos again, picking out my four favorites; in one of them I’m wearing the pink lingerie set and I almost laugh at the juxtaposition of the skimpy lace and the basic pink leotard I’m currently wearing.
Before I can think about it further, I send them to Cord.