Chapter 58
LEX
Ashmoor Hall - Wexley University
“Letting her dance.”
“You ready for this, baby?” I ask Bella as me, her, and Cade round the corner to head into the Legacy’s studio at Ashmoor.
She looks up at me and nods. “I’m ready.”
I highly fucking doubt it, but I refuse to have this argument.
Again.
Knox originally cleared the studio out this morning so the Trifecta and their stunt dudes could have a private practice. Something small and simple so Bella could ease herself back into it.
At least, that was the plan.
Then Bella, the girls, and even Javi’s dramatic ass all reminded us that it is about to be their senior year and that they, and I quote, “have a mountain full of shit to do before classes start.”
So naturally, they’ve stacked way too much into one damn practice. I’m talking set changes, Rico’s fashion designs, prep for Regionals, Nationals, and Worlds. Not to mention, choosing the four poor freshmen that will be joining Legacy this year.
All that shit and they wouldn’t even add in a little chair dance for me. Rude.
Cade and I tried to talk to her about it last night. About slowing the hell down for five damn minutes. She listened. Right up until she decided she knew better and changed the subject by choking on both our cocks until neither of us could think straight.
I get it. She wants to feel normal again. Wants to dance, laugh, plan, and pretend her time in Luca’s hellhole never happened.
Cade and I called Sabine late last night to let out our frustrations once Bella passed out. I figured she’d agree with us and knock some sense into her. But, we were wrong.
So.
Very.
Wrong.
Sabine has totally taken Bella’s side in this. She informed us that every time Bella’s had something bad happen in her life, something’s been taken from her. Her mother, her home, her innocence… Henry.
This time, she got something back.
Zeke.
“She didn’t only survive this time, l’ombre,” Sabine’s voice had been quiet over the speaker.
“Our girl won. And you boys helped her. For the first time in her life, tragedy didn’t end in more tragedy.
It led to this family finally being somewhat whole for a change.
So you boys let her run with it. If she wants to dance until her feet bleed, then you wrap those ankles, kiss those bruises, and let her dance. ”
We barely make it through the door of the studio before Josh damn near tackles our girl.
“B!” he screams, hoisting her off her feet.
“J!” she shrieks as he twirls her in the air.
“What the—” I start, but Cade hooks an arm around my waist and yanks me backward before I can end Josh’s dance career.
“Breathe, babe,” he mutters against my neck, pulling me down to our seat next to Briggs.
The next few minutes become a test to my sanity as each of the Trifecta’s stunt dudes take a turn hugging our girl. I can practically hear Sabine’s voice in my head reminding me to let her dance.
“Alright,” Javi yells, tapping his clipboard from the top of a folding chair. “We’re all very excited that our girl, Bella, is back.”
A few cheers break free.
“But like my sparkling little diva said in the group chat, we have work to do.” He snaps his fingers. “Rez! Bring them out, por favor.”
“Did he just say Rez?” I ask, leaning forward.
Rez’s blinding white hair catches my attention from the corner as he ushers out eight dancers all looking like they’d rather be anywhere else than here.
“Trifecta,” Javi beams as the dancers get closer. “It gives me the greatest joy to announce that this year we will be joined by the Russian Ken doll with the muscles of—”
“Can it,” Rez pipes up. “I told you I’d help with dancing, not be your eye candy.”
“Well,” Javi snaps, waving him off. “We will most definitely need to work on your attitude later.”
“Wait… what the hell?” Bella screeches, running to Rez.
“Surprise,” he says, lifting her off the ground.
“Jesus Christ Rez,” I swear under my breath.
Briggs leans over, bumping my shoulder. “You didn’t know?”
“That my cousin signed up to be Javi’s little bitch?” I gripe. “Absolutely not.”
“Not my bitch,” Javi corrects, dramatically waving his hands toward Rez who is holding our girl way too tight. “Assistant to greatness.”
“Ahh!” Ellie and Haley squeal in unison as they rush Rez.
“All we need now is that ginger-death-daddy to join us,” Rico adds, aggressively fanning himself. “And this team will be complete.”
“Keep it in your pants, baby,” Javi laughs.
“How did this happen? And why didn’t you tell us?!” Bella exclaims as Rez finally sets her ass down.
Rez steadies her before running a hand over his neck. “Turns out your coach is annoyingly persistent and no is a word that apparently doesn’t translate well.”
“?Por supuesto que no! My vocabulary is strictly elite, carino, and no is far too negative for this brand,” Javi retorts, crossing his arms with a dramatic roll of his shoulders. “Plus, I know talent when I see it.”
Rez just laughs it off. “Anyway, I figured since I helped Ellie win a World Championship, I should probably do it for my cousin’s girl too,” he admits, throwing a lazy smirk my way.
“Yes, yes,” Javi says, rolling his eyes as he claps his hands together to recapture the room’s attention. “We’re all thrilled with your ever-growing knowledge of dance. Now can we get back to business, please?”
The girls laugh as they drift back toward their places beside Javi while the freshmen shuffle nervously into formation on the floor. Bella folds her arms, her expression shifting from the excitement of Rez’s news to team captain in a single breath.
“Alright,” she calls. “Every one of you have received the choreography videos Knox sent out weeks ago, correct?”
Eight hesitant nods answer her.
“Good.” She claps once before picking up her own clipboard. “Then show us what you’ve got. Hales.”
Haley takes her cue. “So we’re going to do this in two groups. If I say your name, you’re in group one and you need to stay right where you are. If I don’t say your name, go sit for a bit.”
As she reads off the names, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out, scowling at Marisol’s name on the screen.
“What?” I say, nowhere near caffeinated enough to deal with her this early in the fucking morning.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Marisol deadpans over the line. I can hear the distant murmur of the television in the background on her end.
“I’m busy.”
“Well, I need you anyway,” she snaps back.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, letting out a heavy sigh. “What do you need?”
“A favor.”
“Fresh out.”
“You’re hilarious,” she chuckles, though her tone quickly changes to something more demanding. “Seriously though, I need you to pick someone up at the airport for me.”
The heavy bass of the opening track booms through the studio speakers as Knox cues up the freshmen’s trial set, practically vibrating the wooden floor under my boots.
“I’m at Ashmoor,” I say, raising my voice slightly to compete with the Latin beats.
“So leave,” she says, completely unfazed.
Cade’s head snaps in my direction at the tone of my voice. “What is it?” he whispers, his eyes narrowing as he shifts in his seat.
I shake my head at him, standing up from my seat. I pace over to the quietest corner of the studio near the back exit and press my free hand over my other ear so I can actually hear her. “Can’t do that, Mar.”
“Well it’s important, Lex,” she whines, her voice dropping some of the attitude.
“You’ve got a car.” I lean my shoulder against the cool brick wall. “Why can’t you go to the airport?”
“Because I’m at Monroe’s with Zeke.”
I huff out a deep breath, dragging a hand down my face and scratching the back of my neck. “When the fuck did you become the annoying sister I never wanted?”
“So you’ll do it?” she beams.
I glance back across the room. Bella is leaning in towards Ellie as the two of them dissect one of the freshmen’s timing. She looks focused, alive, and completely in her element.
“Lex!” Marisol yells, snapping me out of it.
“Text me the flight and the name of the dude I’m grabbing,” I grumble.
“Her name’s Ivy,” Marisol says, her voice regaining its usual smugness. “And she’s not a dude.”
I wait until the dancers finish their set before weaving my way back through the maze of folding chairs to book it straight for our girl.
“Baby.”
She turns immediately, concern flashing across her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I nod toward the exit, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “Marisol needs me to pick up some Ivy chick from the airport and—”
“Ahh!” Bella screams, jumping up and down and dropping her clipboard onto a chair. “She’s here!”
I raise a brow. “You knew?”
“Of course.”
“Who is she?”
“An old friend of mine and Zeke’s,” she says, her excitement softening as her fingers drift to the ink on her wrist. “What time does she land?”
I fish my phone back out to check the screen. The text from Marisol has just popped up. “Jesus Christ, Mar.”
“What?”
“In twenty fucking minutes.”
“Then go!” Bella says, her palms landing flat on my chest as she physically shoves me toward the double doors. “This is important, baby.”
I grab her by the wrist and yank her flush against my chest. “I don’t like leaving you.”
“I promise,” she says softly, rising up on her tiptoes to press a sweet little kiss to my lips. “I’ll make it worth your hassle later.”
???
LaGuardia Airport
Thirty minutes later, I’m standing at the arrivals terminal surrounded by families holding up cardboard signs and tired business travelers dragging their carry-ons. I look like a dark, pissed-off specter in my leather jacket, leaning against a concrete pillar with my arms crossed over my chest.
According to Marisol’s text, flight 409 had landed ten minutes ago.
I pull out my phone to double-check the sparse details she sent. No picture. Just a gate number and a name.
Ivy.
I check my watch for the fourth time in two minutes, my patience wearing paper-thin. If this bitch doesn’t show in the next five seconds, I’m leaving her ass here. Fucking Marisol and her bullshit friends.
I lean heavier against the pillar, scowling at the terminal door.
“So…” a light and dry voice comes from somewhere way below my chin. “You have got to be Lex.”
I look down, my eyes widening slightly as I take in the chick standing in front of me.
She’s tiny—barely reaching my chest—with pale skin and a curly black bob.
Her bangs and the very ends of her hair are this blinding, highlighter-neon green, matching a pair of thick rimmed glasses perched on her nose.
She’s wearing a black-and-white checkered dress, heavy black combat boots, and a sleeve of dark, gothic ivy and rose tattoos inked all the way up her left arm.
She’s cute. In a totally alternative, gothic-chic kind of way. But she also sort of looks like she might bite my hand if I were to reach out and pat her on the head.
I blink, adjusting to the sudden burst of neon in my vision. “Ivy?”
“The one and only. You are Lex, right?”
“How’d you guess?”
Ivy offers a smirk, her dark eyes sparkling behind her neon green frames as she shifts her heavy backpack.
“Because Marisol said you’d be the one looking like you’d rather punch a wall than be here picking up a stranger.
” She eyes me up and down. “Though the dreamy blue eyes and leather jacket are a pleasant surprise.”
“Dreamy blue eyes?”
“Hey, I just call it how I see it, handsome,” Ivy grins, extending a hand with matte-black painted nails. “Nice to meet you.”
I look at her tiny hand, then back up to those ridiculous green glasses, and let out a heavy sigh. I reach out, my massive hand completely swallowing hers as we shake.
“Where are your bags?” I ask when I spot zero suitcases behind her.
She laughs, tapping her backpack once. “Everything I need is right here.”
“Right.”
I turn on my heel and start walking, throwing my long strides into gear to get the hell out of this terminal. But after about ten paces, I glance back and fucking freeze.
In the sea of towering travelers and bulky luggage, Ivy has completely vanished.
For a split second, my chest tightens. I can already hear the screaming match Bella and Marisol will throw at me for losing the one person I was supposed to pick up. Fortunately, a bright, neon-green beacon of hair cuts through the gap in the crowd.
I let out a rough breath and shake my head. I keep forgetting this chick’s practically the size of a goddamn Smurf.
“So who are you anyway?” I ask as she falls in step beside me.
“Just an old artist friend of your girl’s and Zeke.”
“Artist? My boyfriend’s an artist. He paints and shit like that.”
Ivy lets out a soft, amused chuckle. “Not that kind of artist, sweetheart.”