Page 61 of The Stallion
Trust was essential from start to finish—for this dance, a partner, and a relationship. Trusting anyone other than myself was an ability I’d lost days before we met and was struggling to rebuild in such a short span of time.
Dallas pressed a button on a small remote and tossed it onto one of the loveseats bordering the stage. Within seconds, water began pouring from the ceiling, filling the small pool set center stage.
The pool descends from the ceiling during the show, only for this specific part. Once it’s over, it is pulled back up like an elevator, keeping the stage dry for a seamless transition between performances.
“The water is cold, but I’ll warm you up very quickly.” He teased, dragging a knuckle along the underside of my chin as he stepped past me and up the stairs to the top of the stage.
Not once in a million years had I felt hesitant about performing—even in a crowded event stadium with thousands of eyes on me. But right here, right fucking now, my nerves were screaming as I flexed my trembling hands and followed his lead.
Stepping up to his side, I could feel the cool water mist on my bare legs, sending a shiver up my spine. On instinct, I wrapped my arms around my body, closing myself off as I dug my nails into my dress’s thin, buttery fabric.
To better prepare for dancing in wet clothes, I wore a bright red dress that matched the shade of my hair. It was similar in design to the ones used in the performance: short and flowy, but unique to me in color. Dallas wore a loose white button-up with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms and a pair of plain black slacks.
Warm palms from behind caressed down the sides of my tensed arms before Dallas stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the intimidating shower.
I lifted my eyes to meet his, sucking in a shaky breath as “For Your Entertainment” by Adam Lambert started to play over the theater’s speakers.
Pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, Dallas stepped away from me, backing into the falling water with a gracious hand held out for me to take.
For a second, I admired how the water fell over his body, soaking his blonde hair and white button-up—turning the fabric transparent as it clung to him like a second skin.
Every dip and curve of his chiseled body was on full display, and my eyes devoured every inch.
“That’s your cue, sweet girl. Now or never.”
The song’s pacing picked up as my wandering mind found its way back to my body. And just as I had with every routine I hadever performed, I took his hand and immediately fell into the role I needed to play—the Bria I was when I was with him.
The moment the pad of my foot touched the inside of the pool, I could feel the lack of grip, slipping into a spin as Dallas caught me with an arm wrapped around my waist.
Without skipping a beat, he spun me outward, the move effortless, while water splashed around us, kicked up by the hem of my dress and feet as I worked to keep myself stable.
From all the jerky motions, my long hair fell over my face, blinding me and making it harder to focus on the choreography—a few times, I gripped his arm tightly to prevent myself from falling to the floor completely.
My lack of grounding made my body tense, unsettled, and hesitant.
Watching this routine the first night, I thought it would be easy. Dallas and the previous woman he had performed with made it look effortless—simple, fast-paced movements with lots of artistic splashing and gliding.
After slipping one more time, Dallas pulled me to his chest, and I held on to him for dear life, my fingers digging into his bicep and forearm.
I looked—and felt—like the little mermaid that had just gotten her legs, with my wet hair unattractively stuck to my face and the sides of my neck.
His warm palm caressed my cheek as he held me close, staring into my eyes with a look of longing that I had come to notice more often from him these days—a look I was failing to ignore.
“Relax, sweet girl. I’ve got you.” He murmured before pressing his lips tenderly against mine, my eyes falling shut as his did the same. There was no tongue, no fierce heat of a frenzied kiss. It was light, intimate—everything. “I won’t let you fall…Trust me.”
When he pulled away, my eyes fluttered open, meeting his brilliant heterochromatic gaze once more as my insides twisted so tightly that I felt like I was about to be sick.
Lovesick… that was a thing, right?
We stood under the falling water, frozen in a moment that I never wanted to end.
I didn’t know what the hell had come over me.
Dallas and I had practiced the choreography a thousand times, and aside from the first—maybe even the second—I had nailed it flawlessly every time.
So then why, all of a sudden, was I tripping over myself and fucking up the moves like I hadn’t even attempted them once…
Why was I constantly questioning my hesitation? Pushing and pulling against my inner self.
