Page 46 of The Cruelest Kind of Hate
Aeris, still in her stilettos, starts the sequence from a wide stance with her fists on her hips. “Okay, I know that we do the hip stuff here.” She demonstrates with two one-sided twists of her hips, flinging her arm across her body at the same time.
“Then we do the head roll,” she recalls, coming back to themiddle. She rolls her head and pelvis in tandem with one another, whipping her messily secured ponytail around and tapping her hands against her waist to an invisible rhythm.
“And then we go to the floor.”
With parallel feet, she keeps her thighs closed as she descends, finally dropping to the ground and opening her legs, bouncing a few times with the stability that her heels give her.
“But I get lost on how we do that spinny thing and end up with our leg over our head.”
“Gotcha,” I say, nodding. I mirror her position, falling easily into the stretch since my muscles are still lax and warm. “Once you’re here, you’re gonna turn clockwise onto your butt, making sure you use the outside of your thigh to cushion your landing.”
I ease into the spinning motion she was talking about, using the momentum from the spin to turn me all the way back to the front. “Then you swing your weight to the right, letting your left hip come off the ground. When you swing your arm along with it, it’ll help balance you.”
I do as I say, keeping my right arm straight to balance my weight. “And the momentum from this pose will allow you to swing to the other side. You’re gonna fold your left leg underneath you—still landing on the outside of your thigh—and then you’re gonna bring your left side flush against the ground so you can extend your right leg over your head.”
My leg flies up over my head as I point my toes, elongating the line. The top of my thigh brushes my head from years of flexibility training, putting me in a sort of single-legged half-splits.
“Ohhh, that makes a lot of sense,” Aeris muses, observing me with an intent gaze, her brow pinched, and her fist placed against her mouth like the thinker statue.
I abandon the pose, giving my muscles a much-needed rest. “Yep. It’s a lot easier once you break everything down slowly and go step by step.”
“Thank you. So much. For all your help and belief in me.”
Heat swamps my cheeks, probably lifting a cardinal red to my skin. “You’re an incredible dancer, Aeris. You dance with this authenticity that comes from raw emotion. You’re so in tune with every little feeling, good and bad, that it comes across clearly in your movements. That’s something you can’t teach. I’d give anything for that kind of talent.”
“You know, in the beginning, I didn’t think I could do it.” There’s a genuineness that rings true in her tone, and poor Aeris looks like she actually might burst into sobs. “But with your guidance, I feel so much more empowered now. I feel the most confident I’ve ever felt in my body, and I never thought I’d get to that point in my life.”
“That’s what heel dancing is all about—finding your inner power. You did this all on your own, Aeris, and I couldn’t be prouder of you,” I reply, having to somehow suck the happy tears back in.
“Th-that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she hiccups, moisture glazing over her bourbon eyes. “Can I hug you? I’m going to hug you.”
Even though she warned me beforehand, I don’t have any time to brace myself before her arms maul me in a death-gripping hug, causing my voice to mutate into dog chew toy levels of squeakiness.
“No…problem,” I wheeze. This girl’s a pint-sized powerhouse. And wow, she gives some of the best hugs I’ve ever received. Minus the rib crushing part.
She gives me a last little squeeze, and I pat her back in response. I’m not used to someone outside of my inner circle showing me this much kindness.
“Um, I don’t want to freak you out or anything, but I thinkyou have a Peeping Tom,” she whispers, alerting every single mental siren in my brain and making them go off in a hair-raising screech.
Since my back is turned to her line of sight, I whip around and ready my hands in case I have to jab some pervert’s balls, but the onlypervertI see is Gage standing by the front desk with some kind of fluffy basket hanging from his hands.
We might’ve had a heart to heart, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to treat him any differently. Banter is what makes our friendship…friendly. If it veers into other territories, I’m doomed.
“Oh, that’s not a Peeping Tom. That’s just the piece of trash I took out earlier that seems to have blown back in,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes at him from across the dance floor. He’s still grinning at me, so either he needs a new contact prescription, or he’s just being his infuriating self.
Speaking of infuriating, that’s exactly what I’ll be when I’m picking out Gage’s scandalous little costume for his end of the bet. I love my brother, but scoring the winning goal of a hockey game seems like something few players achieve during their career.
I’llneverget Gage’s number tattooed on me. Ever. But I will, however, enjoy a raunchy dance performed by the Reapers’ goalie in stilettos and a disturbingly small crop top.
Aeris gets this terrifyingawwexpression on her face. “I didn’t know you knew Gage.”
“Unfortunately.” I have no idea why he’s just shown up at my studio looking all…lovey dovey…but this is the last place he needs to be. And that’s the last look he needs to have! We’re just two business partners who kiss sometimes. I have to stay focused on my other obligations right now—not skipping into the sunset and living out some fantasy life.
The animosity welting me like an oppressive ray of sun fades to a curious buzz. “Wait a second, how doyouknow him?”
“He’s my boyfriend’s teammate,” she admits with a bashful smile.
“So he’s definitely not here for you then?”
