Chapter Seventeen Cord
Seventeen
Cord
The moment the studio door thuds shut behind her, I start to follow her out. I don’t know what to say about what just happened here, but I can’t let her leave without saying anything. I force my feet into action, but by the time I get down to the ground floor, she’s already gone.
“Shit.”
I can’t believe I let myself do that. I can’t believe I let myself take advantage of her in that moment.
Dancing with her tonight, I’ve never experienced anything like it.
The way we move together is seamless and sensual.
Her body fits in my hands like it was sculpted just for me.
I knew I was tempting fate with that fucking lap dance, knew there was no way I was going to be able to fully control myself with her dancing for me like that.
I didn’t expect her to be just as turned on as I was.
My eyes fall shut, the memory of her writhing against my lap all too present.
I wipe the image from my brain before I get hard again. I need to think, to focus, and that’s not going to help.
Back in the studio, I find my phone and pull up our text thread. I know there’s nothing I can say to make it all go away, but I have to say something.
Me: God, Slippers, I’m so sorry.
Me: I shouldn’t have let that happen.
Me: Not that I didn’t want it to happen, because I did. Obviously.
Me: But I shouldn’t have distracted you the night before your audition. I don’t want to mess that up for you.
Me: I hope tomorrow goes well. And I hope you get the part you want. You’ve worked hard for it, and you’ve earned it.
Me: Anyway. I’m sorry again. And good luck tomorrow.
My fingers move without my permission, sending the string of unanswered texts like a complete fucking idiot. I stare at the screen for a solid ten minutes, waiting for a response. When one doesn’t come, I lock up the studio and walk the two blocks to my apartment.
I guess this is it then. I won’t ask her to perform the piece with me at Six Pact.
It’s probably better to just cut our losses now and move on.
There was never a possibility of this being more than a business arrangement, and now, with her fully prepped for her audition, the arrangement has come to its end.
I step into a searing-hot shower the moment I get home. When I get out, my phone is lit up with new messages.
My heart lurches in my chest.
Allegra: No apology necessary.
Allegra: And thanks for the well wishes.
Me: Good night, Slippers.
She doesn’t respond.
The next morning, I know I need a distraction, or I’ll spend the entire day worrying about what’s happening at a ballet studio thirty blocks away from me. And one thing I promised myself a long time ago is that I would never again worry about what happens inside a ballet studio.
So I call the one person I know can talk me off any ledge.
Chloe is waiting for me at her favorite breakfast spot, a hole-in-the-wall diner with red pleather booths and grease stains on the chipped tables.
She insisted if she was going to “drag herself out of bed,” then I was going to treat her to her breakfast of choice.
She’s probably ordered one of everything on the menu since she knows I’m paying, but instead of being annoyed with her, I remember all the times when I would have given anything for her to indulge in a pancake breakfast.
I order my own coffee and an omelet, waiting until the first sip of caffeine has hit my system before I meet her eyes.
“You must have really fucked up if you are (a) awake this early and (b) offering to buy me breakfast.” Chloe sips from her own mug, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Does this have anything to do with a certain ballerina who has made her preference for me as the favorite Donovan clear?”
It would probably be easier to just keep my mouth shut and let Chloe deduce what’s happening in my head without my input. “It might.”
“Let me guess. I was right and you like her?”
I don’t confirm or deny, my mouth twisting into a grimace.
“You like her and she likes you and something happened to let you know she likes you and now you’re freaking out because you can’t get over your shit and just be with her.”
Sometimes having someone in your life who knows you so well is annoying, and this is one of those times. But at least I don’t have to go through the trouble of putting my feelings into words.
Instead, I tip my head, giving her the acknowledgment she needs.
She sits back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s been ten years, Cord.”
“I know.”
“When was the last time you checked in with your therapist?”
I rub at the tension lines on my forehead. “Too long ago, apparently.”
“You should probably fix that.”
“I will.”
Our server delivers our order then, a stack of pancakes and a side of eggs and bacon for my sister that makes me regret my own breakfast selection.
Wordlessly, she cuts off a hunk of her pancakes and forks them onto my plate.
“Thanks.”
She takes a bite, and for a minute there’s just the silence of our eating. She swigs from her coffee and levels me with a piercing stare. “Have you told her yet?”
I shake my head, burying my gaze in my omelet as if it’s the most fascinating breakfast item I’ve ever seen.
“Why not?”
“It’s not my story to tell, Coco.”
She cocks her head to the side. “It is if you really care about her.”
“I guess that’s part of the problem. I don’t know if I really care about her or not.” The words taste sour in my mouth. A sip of coffee only makes the acidity burn worse.
“That’s bullshit and we both know it.” She stabs a bite of pancake.
“You know I wouldn’t care if you told her everything.
I like Allegra, and I think she would understand.
I don’t think there’s a professional ballerina out there who wouldn’t understand.
But if you’re going to sit here and pretend like she doesn’t mean anything to you, then you don’t deserve her anyway. ”
“Ouch. Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” I reach over to steal another bite of her meal, but she pushes my hand away from her plate.
“Why do you have to always deflect, Cord? We went through something that was super fucked up. It sucked, for both of us. But you can’t let it determine the rest of your life.”
“I’m not.” I sound like a petulant child. Something about debating with my sister brings it out in me.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I mutter under my breath.
Chloe wipes her mouth with her napkin and throws it on top of her half-eaten meal. “Fine. Stew in your own misery. Maybe I’ll swoop in and win Allegra for myself.”
“Don’t even think about it, Coco.”
She glares at me. “Guess your feelings aren’t as unclear as you want to pretend like they are.
” She pushes back her chair and stands, like she’s about to storm out of the restaurant in a dramatic huff.
Instead, she comes around to my side of the table and leans over to hug me.
“Call your therapist. Like today. And tell Allegra the truth, Cord. If it’s my permission you were waiting for, then you’ve got it. ”
With a final squeeze, she strides out of the restaurant, leaving me with the check.