Chapter 12 #2
“No promises!” she called back, just before the door snapped shut. A second later, he heard the unmistakable sound of her banging on yet another door.
Justin looked back down at the newspaper in his hand, at the color photo of the two of them.
Of his foot, stretched and pointed and captured in the perfect moment on the most famous ballet stage in the world.
They’d done it, he thought, tossing the paper onto the unmade bed and looking at the closed adjoining door.
He and Ivy had done it. As for what else they’d done this morning, and what more he wanted to do…
He hoped she didn’t regret it. But there was only one way to find out.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame some of his morning bedhead, then remembering that if his hair was a mess, it wasn’t from bed.
It was from Ivy’s fingers raking through it, making him feel a deep, clawing hunger that had been left unsated when Alice arrived.
Only one way to find out, he thought, as he crossed the room and knocked on the door.
“It’s open,” Ivy called. It came out hoarse and panicked and the second she said it, she wished she could grab the words out of the air and shove them back into her mouth.
She sat cross legged on the edge of the bed and stared at the door, realizing that she only had a few seconds to figure out what she was going to say before Justin walked in.
She looked down at her hands on the bedspread.
Hands that, mere minutes ago, had felt Justin’s corded muscles strain and shift under his warm, smooth skin as she slid her tongue against his.
They looked the same as they always did.
Ten fingers, nails painted with a clear gloss, a stack of gold rings on one finger.
But her fingertips were tingling, like they’d been overloaded by the sensation of Justin’s skin, his silky hair, and the realization that no matter how spectacular he looked shirtless on stage or sweating in class, none of it had prepared her for touching him. Kissing him.
She’d kissed Justin. Hard. She wanted to do it again.
She’d wanted to do it last night, before they’d been interrupted.
Before she’d had a chance to assemble a mental list of all the reasons it was a terrible idea, not least of which was that she was supposed to be making sure he didn’t get into any trouble in New York.
Kissing a colleague and letting her run her overwhelmed hands all over your body was definitely trouble.
To say nothing of the fact that just a few weeks ago, he’d barely been able to speak to her without snarling, and—and her seconds were up.
Justin walked in, holding a newspaper in his hand.
“Front page of the Arts section,” he grinned, tossing the paper down onto the bed next to her.
Front page, with a huge photo of him and Alice, showing one of the best moments in the whole pas de deux, when Justin raised his eyes to the rafters like he was sunning his face in the stage lights and extended one leg, one perfect foot.
How could she have ever called them freakish?
They were the stuff of ballet dreams—of her long-ago ballet dreams.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Relieved,” he admitted. “Kind of feels like anything short of this would have been a failure, after… after everything I’ve put Peter and the company through.”
She nodded. She felt the same way. After walking away from journalism, anything but a huge success here would have felt like she’d given up on that dream for nothing.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“I’m relieved, too. It’s nice to win one for a change.”
“And how do you… feel?” he asked, waving a hand behind him, in the direction of the adjoining door.
“About the fact that we just made out in our pajamas in a hotel room in New York City?” she asked, trying to make it come out light and joking, but not quite succeeding. It had been such a good kiss. And it was such a bad idea.
“Yeah, something like that,” he said, sounding like he was also going for light, but watching her intently.
“I think you have a company class to get to, which means I have a company class to get to.”
It was barely perceptible, the way his face fell, but she saw it. She’d been watching Justin Winters for a while now, and she knew what disappointment looked like on his face.
“I’m sorry,” she said. And she was. That kiss had been brain-melting.
Her body might never recover from getting that close to him and having to pull away.
But her head had stopped spinning enough to know that going back for more was unwise.
She needed to stay focused. There was still a week of the tour left, and plenty of things could go wrong in that time if she wasn’t careful.
Kissing Justin again—or doing more than that, she thought, with a hard swallow—would be a complete distraction.
“I just don’t think we should do that again. ”
He watched her for a long moment. She thought he was going to argue with her, and she straightened her spine, lining up her reasons and getting ready for the fight. But it didn’t come.
“Whatever you want,” he said quietly, still watching her closely. There was no fight in it, no anger, and for a moment she wanted there to be. But it was better this way. This morning had made things messy, but any more kissing, or conversation about kissing, would only make it messier.
“Okay,” she breathed out. Okay. Good decision. Smart decision. Wise, professional decision, she thought. She ignored the fact that her fingertips still hadn’t stopped tingling, or that now she could never unknow what his hard, lean body felt like pressed against hers.
Ivy, 10:01am: Are you still awake?
Ivy texted Em the moment the accompanist started playing the music for pliés.
The walk from the hotel to the theater had been quiet and tense, the hugeness of that kiss hanging between them like a physical curtain of heat, rippling and pulsing as they walked the six cold blocks downtown.
She’d dropped him at the stage door and avoided his eyes, knowing that they were both remembering the embrace that had happened right there the night before.
So much had happened in the last twelve hours, and the rave review in the Times was only the half of it.
The mood inside the theater was buoyant, and Peter had spent a few minutes before class congratulating them all on their performance, even reading a few excerpts of the paper’s praise aloud to the grinning dancers.
So much for not paying attention to reviews, Ivy thought archly, as Peter paused for applause after each snippet.
Connie and Oliver had lit up her phone with congratulatory texts, too.
ALL HAIL THE CONQUERING HEROINE, Oliver had texted, with half a dozen popping champagne emojis.
After a few minutes of celebration, Peter called for silence and reminded them all that the bar for all their remaining performances was now set even higher, and he expected them all to meet it.
Em, 10:02am: Barely, what’s up?
Ivy, 10:02am: I did something bad.
Em, 10:02am: ??? Are you ok?
Ivy, 10:03am: I’m fine, I’m safe.
Em, 10:03am: Thank fuck
Ivy, 10:03: Sorry!
10:03 You should be. Scared me half to death. You know I can’t help you bury a body if you’re on the other side of the world
Em, 10:03 Wide awake now. What’s up?
Ivy paused, suddenly unsure what to tell Liv.
I just had the most intense kiss of my entire life and immediately had to shut it down because it was a terrible idea?
Thank god Alice had shown up and interrupted them.
Who knew how much further they would have taken it otherwise?
A parade of images flashed through Ivy’s mind, each filthier than the last, and she let out a shaky breath.
On the stage, the company had moved on to pliés in second position, the same familiar sequence Ivy had followed for so many years.
First, second, fourth, fifth, relevé, hold, then turn and repeat it all with the other hand on the barre.
Em, 10:05am …?
Em, 10:05am: Do not tell me something happened to my coat
Ivy chuckled.
Ivy, 10:05am: Your coat is fine. It’s been all over New York and it’s having a grand time.
Em, 10:05am: Good. So what did you do??
Ivy started typing, then erased everything she had.
She tried again. I kissed someone and I think it was a terrible idea but I want to do it again.
God, she really wanted to do it again. She erased that draft, too.
If she said “someone,” Em would immediately ask who.
And that part was pretty relevant information.
She hadn’t kissed some random New Yorker, or even some other member of the company.
She’d kissed Justin. The man who had promised less than a month ago that he’d never even speak to her.
And he’d kissed her back. Then he’d come into her room like he wanted to keep doing it.
Em, 10:07am: Spit it out, babe!
Clearly Em had tired of watching the “typing” dots bounce up and down on her screen at 11 o’clock at night. Em didn’t need beauty sleep, but she still preferred to get plenty of it.
Ivy typed quickly, not stopping to edit or second guess herself, then screwed up her face until she could barely see the screen and hit send.
Ivy, 10:08am: I kissed Justin this morning
There was a long pause. No bouncing dots. Em was apparently too stunned—or too appalled—to even type. Ivy tried to distract herself by watching the ronds de jambe that were now happening on the stage, grateful Justin had chosen a spot at a barre at the back of the stage so she couldn’t watch him.
Em, 10:10am:
Em, 10:10am: Not judging, just surprised
But not not judging, Ivy suspected. Em had made it clear she didn’t approve of Justin’s behaviour, not at the Stoned Crow, and not in the weeks during which Ivy had tried desperately to work with him.
Em, 10:11am: Well…?
Ivy, 10:11am: Well what?
Em, 10:12am: Well how was it???
Ivy let out a loud breath, wondering how to describe the kiss to Em without allowing herself to be overwhelmed by the memories of it.
It had been so intense, so hot with need and pent-up desire…
and, she reminded herself, glancing around her, she might be sitting in the dark of the theater, hidden from all her colleagues, but she was still at work.
Ivy, 10:13am: It was very hot and a very bad idea and I really want to do it again, but that is also a very bad idea.
Em would agree, Ivy knew. Em would reply that yes, it was a bad idea, and Ivy should resist the urge—the very demanding urge—to do it again.
Em, 10:14am: Bad why?
Ivy typed her reply with wide eyes, not bothering to correct her typos.
Ivy, 10:14am: Becaues he’s a colleauge!
Em, 10:15am: So? ANB doesn’t have a rule against kissing your colleagues
Not anymore, Ivy thought. Peter’s attempt to police that had blown up in his face in spectacular fashion.
Ivy, 10:15am: I’m here to work! I can’t get distracted by this!
Em, 10:16am: You’re a professional. You can fuck and chew gum at the same time
Ivy’s cheeks went hot when she read the second half of Em’s message, and she glanced around her, checking that no one could see her screen.
But you don’t like him, remember? And he didn’t like me until ten minutes ago, she typed.
She stared down at the words. Was that true, though?
She thought of the way he’d knocked on her door a few days ago, shower-damp and apologetic and trusting, willing to excavate his most painful memories and hand them over to her.
The sandwich he’d handed her at the museum, teasing her about being a threat to public safety when she was hungry.
The way he’d looked at her with open admiration after reading the review.
And this morning, when he’d put his hand on her face and waited, patient and hopeful, for her to kiss him.
Her heart pounded, and she forced herself not to remember what had come next. How intense and right it had felt.
Still, none of that necessarily meant he liked her now. He wasn’t treating her like a pebble in his shoe anymore, but that didn’t mean he’d really changed his mind about her.
Ivy, 10:17am: This is not helpful. I need you to tell me not to do it again.
Em, 10:17am: Why? You said it was hot. You said you want to do it again. Does he?
Ivy bit her lip, remembering the tiny frown that had appeared between his brows when she’d shut him down.
Ivy, 10:18am: I think so. I don’t know. Maybe.
Em, 10:18am: If he does, I’m not seeing the problem here. If you know what you want then you go and you find it and you get it. You’re in New York City, for fuck’s sake. The greatest city in the world, etc
Em, 10:18am: Have an adventure. Not everything is doomed to fail before it begins, you know
Ivy stared at the words. An “adventure” with Justin Winters would be something. If that kiss was anything to go by, it would be the best “adventure” of her life.
Ivy, 10:19am: I’ll think about it.
Em, 10:19am: You do that
Em, 10:19am: I have to go to sleep now. Can’t believe you made me quote musicals to convince you to go get laid. The things I do for you, Page
Ivy, 10:20am: OK, I love you.
Em, 10:20am: Love you, too. Let me know once you stop thinking and start doing