Chapter 24—Payton
I jump a foot when the music stops and the clapping begins.
It’s then that I realize I closed my eyes again.
I did it often when I danced. Something my teachers hated, but I couldn’t help it.
I could concentrate better with my eyes closed, blocking everything out and surrendering to the music and the flow of movement with each step.
Keeping my eyes open, I saw the crowds. Or the other dancers judging me. Or that I was in Tommy’s place and that everything has changed and led me to be here.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
I push my hair behind my ear and smile at him as I walk to the stereo and turn it off. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have had my eyes closed.”
“That a routine you made up or one you knew?”
“Both. It was a piece I created that was meant to be used in a showcase.”
“Was?” He takes a step toward me as I pull the mats off the wall he put them on and try to set them back in place. I struggle with it, as they’re pretty heavy, not that he made it look like that. “Let me. They’re heavier than they look.”
I move out of the way as he takes over easily. “I left school before I was ever given a chance.”
He works quickly and silently, and when he moves to the door, I follow him out and to the elevator.
“I have to go to the club. I ordered some food to be sent over. Eat what you want, no worries on what you don’t like.”
“You make it sound like you ordered food for a small army,” I murmur as I glance up at him from under my eyelashes. Heat spreads up my neck at his sheepish grin as he nods.
“I might have. But don’t worry, I’ll eat whatever you don’t once I get back. Whenever that is.”
The elevator door opens and I exit, but he doesn’t. I look back and feel a sense of… something. Should I nod? Pull him into a hug? All of it? None of it? Maybe something more?
Instead, I wave like a freak and am instantly embarrassed by it. Till he smiles and it reaches his eyes.
“Good night, Payton.”
“Night, Tommy.” I whisper the last word, but the door has already closed, and I doubt he heard me.
The echo seems to linger in the hallway as I take in my surroundings. Once again alone, but I don’t feel lonely.
I spent hours dancing, and it felt good.
I haven’t let myself do that for months; it seemed unnecessary to give myself any kind of hope.
But today I had the day off, which meant I could ignore everything—my worries, my cares—and could just be.
And once I saw the space, I knew how I wanted to spend my time.
Dancing. Dancing like I used to, but without any teacher critiques. It was amazing.
I walk to the other hallway and hesitate on which bathroom to use for a second before I turn to the guest one. I shower quickly, but not quickly enough, as I miss the delivery man. But true to Tommy’s words, there’s a small feast waiting for me.
I try a little of everything and even go back for seconds, having forgotten how much energy it takes to dance for hours in a day.
Once I’m finished, I put everything away and, after another moment of hesitation, go into the guest room and crawl under the blankets. It’s not as warm or as comfortable as the bed I slept in last night, but it’s the right one to be in.
Tommy might have saved me from Carl, but he also didn’t seem to have any issue with his man killing him.
And while a part of me feels as though Carl deserved it, another part of me doesn’t see any life as disposable.
Perhaps it’s because of what happened to my parents, or just how I was raised.
But every life, even a cruel one, deserves a chance.
As I shut my eyes to sleep, I can’t decide whether I should be attracted to someone who could be considered a monster in other aspects of the world or the hero he was that night.
Surprisingly, I wake up early the next morning. Even more surprisingly, Tommy isn’t awake. No one greets me in the kitchen with food. His door isn’t even open.
Deciding it’s time to give him back a bit of thanks for all he’s done for me, I start the coffee. I don’t know if I’m doing it right, but I think I should get credit for trying. Thankfully, it’s just the normal drip kind and not an elaborate espresso machine with a steamer.
A quick tutorial on the internet shows me what to do, but since I’m not sure if it’s good, I just go with the one with the best reviews.
Ten thousand people can’t be wrong, right?
After that’s done, I move on to the food.
I open his cabinets and find some leftover muffins from the other day.
I put them on a plate and set them out, then take out the fruit I saw in there last night, cutting a few pieces before putting that out too.
There. A well-balanced meal of fruit, muffins, and coffee. In some worlds, that’s a buffet.
I bring my thumb to my teeth and nibble on it, wondering if I should attempt to make eggs.
But I’d rather not burn the place down. Instead, I turn and head to the elevator, taking just a few minutes to go to the level above.
A dance move was in my head all night that I want to try.
But as soon as I open the door, I stop, tears gathering in my eyes.
The room has been transformed.
Gone are all the mats. Now there’s a barre attached to the wall, and tall freestanding mirrors take up one side of the room up against the glass.
And in the corner by the stereo is a full selection of ballet leotards, skirts, and shoes—ballet slippers, pointe shoes, and even jazz slippers.
“Do you like it?”
I almost get whiplash from how quick my head turns to see Tommy leaning against the same door I just slipped through. And then all thoughts evaporate from my mind.
He steals my breath with the sleepy smile on his face, his hair mashed on one side.
He’s shirtless above dark blue plaid sleep pants.
They hang loose on his hips, but that’s about the only thing loose on him.
He’s taut in every way that’s mesmerizing to watch.
If he were in a museum, I would stare at him for hours. Just like this.
“Yes,” I say in a whisper. But I fear it’s too little a word to use to describe what I feel for him.
“I wasn’t sure on the type you usually wear, so I guessed. If they don’t work, we can change them out.”
“Huh?” What is he talking about? I squint as I try to work through my confusion.
He points behind me, and I follow his gaze to the shoe rack.
I groan inwardly, realizing he was asking if I liked the room before, not if I liked him. So stupid.
“This is perfect. Thank you.” I look back at him, barely awake and not at all put together like he usually is. Which I enjoy immensely, that he showed me this side. “When did you do all this?”
He scratches the back of his head as he yawns. “Last night. Or this morning? Not really sure what time it is. I had the delivery made while I was out, but I finished setting it up before I went to bed around five.” He finishes with another yawn.
“Five? That was like three hours ago.”
He shrugs noncommittally, as if he’s a teenager being scolded by his mother for staying up all night to play video games.
I look around once more, taking in everything he did. He did it. Not someone else. Sure, it was delivered by another person, but he brought it up here and set it all up. It might not seem like much, but to me it’s everything.
I shake my head as a small smile of awe blossoms on my lips. “I can’t believe you did this.”
He pushes off the doorframe and saunters closer. “I might not look it, but I know how to operate a drill and can put a few things together.”
I shake my head and smirk. “Yeah, but you did it for me.”
Another shrug as he gives me a small, genuine smile.
“You made breakfast.”
“But I just did that. And it was nothing. It means nothing.”
He stops right in front of me, reaching up to push some hair behind my ear. But he doesn’t move afterward, just lets his hand stay there. I feel myself sway, wanting to push my cheek into his palm.
“It means a lot. To me.”
He’s so close, I could just pretend I got dizzy and my face collided with his to touch his lips on mine. It would be so easy.
“And for the record… I like you too.”
My eyes go wide before he grabs the back of my neck, bending it forward to grant him access to my forehead, where he places a kiss. A soft one that has me hyperventilating.
“I’m going back to bed for a few hours.”
And just like that, he leaves.
And I’m left with a dance studio and the urge to follow him like a lost little puppy, begging him for one more pet before he leaves me in the cold. Because I’m slowly realizing that while I shouldn’t want to get close to Tommy, it’s exactly where I want to be.
But I don’t.
I stay and enjoy my gifts. Hours feel like minutes as I break in my new shoes.
I had to go hunting for a few things in the kitchen to make the pointe shoes work.
Despite what some might think, pointe shoes right out of the box are a crime to wear.
But with a few rips and some fiber to taper off other areas, they work well enough.
And yeah, I totally put on one of the new leotards as well.
Perfect fit, like everything else he’s chosen for me.
After a while, my mind slips from the etiquette of dance to him.
I’m in his home, surrounded by gifts on a day off.
A day off I still don’t know if I deserve, but I know not to argue.
What Carl tried to do to me was against everything that anyone should ever try to do to another person.
It went against the laws of nature, even if so many in nature do it. Disgusting is what it is.
I shake my head to rid my mind of Carl and what happened. I’ve been able to compartmentalize my emotions for years. Ballet teaches you to always smile, even through pain and anger. Pushing my trauma into a box like I do everything else is easy. What’s left is the hard part.
Because Tommy isn’t someone you put in a box.
And when my thoughts are focused on him, I also think about what I owe him. What I want to do to make him proud.
And while he hasn’t asked for much from me in the last few days, he said that he eventually expects me to dance in the private rooms.
I grab my phone, and with a quick search, I see all sorts of instructional videos for dancing. Never found the time, nor did I really want to learn before this, slightly hoping that if I was never taught, I could avoid it.
But not anymore.
Exotic dancing. Lap dancing. How to get your man into you by dancing.
You think of it, and there’s a dance move for it. I wonder for a moment if this is how the other girls at the club learned, but I doubt it. Some just know how to use their body in that way. Others do it other ways.
Taking off the toe shoes, I grab the jazz shoes and place a folded chair from the weight room up against one of the walls.
With a change of music and a steady breath, I start to dance.
This time, I keep my eyes open as I watch and learn how to do things I was never taught. It takes an embarrassingly long time for my body to let go of the strict rules I trained to do for classical pieces. But when I finally do it, it’s almost freeing.
And when I start adding in thoughts that it might be Tommy I’m dancing for? My hips seem to take on a new vigor that was never there before. My hands seem almost possessed as they glide over my skin, with thoughts that it could be his fingers touching me instead.
The possibilities of what happens next are what keep me moving as the memories of what we did last time he “taught” me replay in my mind. I keep focusing, watching one video after another. Wanting to find new moves, ones that maybe Trixie doesn’t even know, that would make him happy. Entice him.
Make him beg me not to stop.
The grumble of my stomach is my only stopwatch up here. I’m dripping with sweat by the time I realize I need to eat if I want to keep doing this. And I do.
Of course, there’s only one man I’m thinking about. I’m doing this for him, not some nameless, faceless person who paid for my time.
When I go back downstairs, Tommy is sipping coffee, but the rest of the food has been put away.
“I was almost worried that you might skip lunch too.”
The sternness in his eyes tells me he noticed, or probably just guessed, that I missed breakfast. After not eating much for the last few months, it’s easy to overlook some things. But if I plan to keep dancing like this, I’ll need to get back to eating regularly.
I just nod, hoping he sees that keeping up on my meals is something I’ll work on as well.
“Good. I’ll order something, and then after we eat, we can get ready.”
“Ready? For what?”
He smiles. “The ballet.”