Page 23 of Love is a Dance Step
They talked over each other, sometimes yelling, and he soaked it all in.
A rock tour was a kind of chaos unlike any other. There was always a million people, lots of music, and an unrelenting schedule.
But it didn’t compare to the chaos of the Stone house, chaos created by laughter instead of crowds, family instead of strangers.
He needed both types of chaos in his life to make him who he was.
* * *
Drew pulled the hat low on his head, but who was he kidding? There was no hiding who he was. Not even when he’d changed his normal jeans and t-shirt for a pair of board shorts and a rash guard. After this, all he wanted was to catch some waves.
A few girls in college sweatshirts stopped him on the sidewalk as they screamed his name.
Beside him, Ben chuckled. They hadn’t yet realized who he was, but no one expected theFatefront man to walk the streets of Gulf City, Florida.
Drew signed a few autographs. “Sorry, folks. I have to get going. But it was a pleasure to meet you.” He gave them his “fan” smile, the slightly smutty one that oozed charm. If only Nora could see him now. She’d laugh her butt off.
He jerked his head toward the familiar studio, and Ben followed him. “Sometimes it pays to have a separate stage persona.”
Drew laughed. “You forget, thanks to your girlfriend—” He lifted his voice as he saw Piper running toward them. “—Your amazing girlfriend who can do no wrong, the world now knows the real Ben Evans is just another normal nerdy dude.”
Piper panted as she caught up to them. “Sorry I’m late. As amazing of a girlfriend I am, I’m still a terrible sleeper, and someone didn’t wake me up this morning.”
Ben pulled her to his side, wrapping an arm around her. “You just looked so cute with the snoring and the drool.”
She pushed away from him. “Tell me why we had to be up so early when the tour is on break?”
Drew looked up at the building that turned him from hockey-crazed teenage boy to twinkle toes—Nora’s term, not his. “Lauren said we had to come in before classes start for the day.”
“Who is Lauren?” Ben looked confused.
Piper elbowed him. “The woman who owns the studio.” Piper hadn’t set up this meeting, but she’d been in talks with Lauren over the last day about renting the studio. “She didn’t seem to like the idea of closing down for a day and canceling classes.”
“Penny told me the studio is struggling financially.” He wished he’d known that before now. He wouldn’t have a career without this very studio and Lauren’s parents. It was an important part of Gulf City and couldn’t be allowed to close. “We’ll make them an offer they can’t refuse.”
Piper sighed. “I don’t know if that’ll work, but let’s go. I hope you have a backup plan.”
When they entered the lobby, no one sat behind the tall desk. Dark wooden floors stretched down the hall. It was such a familiar place, Drew didn’t want to move. He stood still, soaking in the memories, letting himself feel the easy calm he’d always found within these walls.
Music pumped from one of the rooms, a song he recognized from the tour.
Ben laughed. “They play a Noah Clarke song when we show up? That’s cold, brother.”
One corner of Drew’s mouth hooked up. “Just don’t tell Noah. We’ll never hear the end of it.” He took one step and then another, needing to see where the music came from as if some force pulled him in that direction.
He glanced down the hall to see if he could spot Lauren, but the office door stood closed and the hall empty. Only one room showed any sign of life.
He knew he shouldn’t intrude, that whoever was behind that door didn’t want to be seen. And yet, he reached out to grip the handle anyway.
“Drew,” Piper warned.
He ignored her, twisting the knob, his heart beating frantically in his chest as if it knew whatever lurked behind the door would change him forever.
And still, he didn’t stop as he pushed open the door.
The first thing he saw was black. Black leggings, a black t-shirt that was way too large for the girl wearing it. She didn’t notice her audience as she danced across the room, throwing ballet moves into her more modern style. Every movement had a purpose, every note a meaning.
She wasn’t perfect by any means, but that didn’t matter, not when every move she made held untold emotion, limitless passion. This, here, was a girl who loved to dance, a girl who wasn’t meant for anything else.
