18. Trust Me #4
He smirks, rain running down his face, his hair sticking up in a million different directions, and his shirt outlining his muscles. He is handsome.
“Have you seen Dirty Dancing?”
I blink at him through the rain. “What?”
A playful smile appears on his lips. “Please tell me you’ve seen it.”
“I… might have fallen asleep halfway through,” I confess, cheeks warming despite the cold downpour.
Nik gasps dramatically, looking at me like I’ve just shattered his heart. “That’s a crime. We’ll have to fix that later.” His voice softens, almost lost under the storm. “But right now, I think we need to try the lift.”
I blink, caught off guard. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m very serious.” He steps back, arms out, grinning like a madman. “Come on, Baby. Trust me.”
He called me Baby.
I know it’s the character’s name from the movie, but I can’t deny that hearing him say it makes my heart skip a beat all the way to space.
A few feet away, Nik bends his knees, arms out like he’s ready for anything. “Ready when you are!” he shouts.
I shake out my arms and legs, running through a million reasons why this is a terrible idea. My mother always says I need to be small if I want to be lifted in ballet. What if he thinks I’m too heavy? What if he drops me?
Then one word runs through my mind: free. Nik wants me to feel what it’s like to be free. So the least I can do is try. I run awkwardly toward him, trying not to slip on the slick pavement.
When I reach him, he grabs my hips with a firm, steady grip and lifts me off the ground.
A laugh ripples out of me. A mix between a scream and a squeal. He lifts me higher, and I flail my arms and legs in an attempt to look graceful. It doesn’t quite work. My legs angle wildly in his face, and my arms swing like I’m searching for something to grab onto.
Below me, Nik breaks into a raucous fit of laughter. “Eleanor! You’re going to knee me in the nose. Stop wiggling!”
He lowers me slowly, sliding his hands from my hips up to my ribcage as he sets me safely on solid ground. I grip his biceps for balance. When I look up, his smile covers his entire face. It makes me smile back without thinking.
His eyes dart to my lips, and I’m acutely aware of how close we are. If I lean just slightly, our lips will meet. But as fast as the thought surfaces, he steps back, holding my forearms before sliding down to squeeze my hands.
“We need to work on your jump, Eleanor,” he says with a rough, throaty rasp.
My laugh comes out breathless. “Sure, I’m the one who needs to work on it,” I tease.
He gives a rueful smile and a slight shake of his head. “Come here.” He holds out his hand.
I take it without hesitation.
Nik draws me close. One hand rests in mine, and the other slides around my back. He begins swaying us slowly, side to side. There, in the pouring rain, we dance to the rhythm of water hitting the pavement.
I rest my head against his chest, and he lowers his chin onto my hair, keeping us moving in that unhurried sway.
“This is what it feels like,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble above me. “It’s like your walls coming down like Jericho. Or rising up from the dead, like Lazarus. It’s all the things you think could never happen… but they do.”
I don’t fully understand. I’m sure he’s quoting the Bible—something I’ve never read. Maybe one day he can teach me. “That sounds nice,” I reply softly.
But inside, I’m not so sure. Who am I kidding?
I’m not cut out for an easy life. From the day I was born, I was raised for performance, not miracles.
My mother gave me rules, not love. Purpose, not grace.
I can’t imagine there being someone—or something—big enough to love me without crushing me.
Trusting in something beyond myself only ever ends in disappointment.
I’m not sure I can take the leap, knowing I’ll only fall.
And yet… Being here with Nik feels surreal.
I laughed. I danced without worrying about my form. I didn’t mind the way he held me, or the way he cared for me—a kind of care no one else had ever shown.
But he’s my coach, I know, without a shadow of a doubt that nothing can ever happen between us.
“Do something with me tomorrow?” he asks, breaking the silence.
I lift my head just enough to meet his eyes. “But tomorrow’s Saturday?” Seeing dancers outside of the studio is forbidden for coaches, so I’m not sure why he’d want to see me.
He grins, rain dripping from his eyelashes. “It is. So… is that a yes?”
I know I didn’t want to say no. “Okay.”
His grins again. “Great. I’ll pick you up in the morning.” He finally lets go, his warmth slipping away with the space between us. “Come on, let’s get you home before we both catch a cold.” He chuckles lightly.
The drive back buzzes with an electricity I can’t name. I don’t know if it’s the anticipation of tomorrow or the lingering magic of tonight. I only know I don’t want the feeling to end.
When my head finally hits the pillow, my mind doesn’t spiral toward food, or ballet, or my mother, or the usual shadows of my life. It stays fixed on Nik and his crystal-blue eyes.