Page 39 of No Rhyme or Roughing
If only I trusted myself.
The house wasdark when I got home, but I could hear music coming from upstairs.Themusic. From my dance. Inwardly, I cringed, still unable to believe I’d gone through with it. Dancing wasn’t exactly my thing, but nothing really was—except hockey.
Setting my bag near the front door, I kicked off my shoes. The sound of footsteps upstairs was like a siren call, and I couldn’t have stopped myself even if I’d wanted to. I didn’t bother turning on the lights as I climbed the steps. At the top, the bathroom door opened, and there she was.
Sydney Valentine. All smooth skin and curves, covered only by a thin towel that barely wrapped aroundher. She stopped when she saw me, her shock lasting only a moment.
“Ryder! Perfect. I just finished editing the video. You have to see it.” Her excitement vibrated in the air, but I could hardly breathe.
Sydney, seemingly unfazed by my presence or her lack of clothing, grabbed my arm and pulled me toward my room. Or her room. Whatever.
“Shouldn’t you get dressed?” The words choked out of me, and my body betrayed me.No, she shouldn’t get dressed, it argued. But I’d always been too much in my northern head to listen to the southern one.
Sydney laughed. She actually laughed. I was so screwed. “I will,” she said, brushing it off.
I pressed a hand against the doorframe, keeping myself from stepping in. She let go of my arm and began rifling through her suitcase. “Wait till you see yourself.”
“Shouldn’t you?—”
“I’ll get dressed,” she said, cutting me off, her voice light with amusement. She pulled out a pair of leggings and a T-shirt. “Shit, I need to do some laundry.”
Leaning down way too far for my sanity, she continued searching. When she pulled out a pair of white cotton panties, my brain short-circuited. They weren’t lacy or see-through. They weren’t even a thong. Just plain cotton. But somehow, that made them even sexier. I couldn’t breathe.
Sydy. Sydy. Sydy.
My brain screamed her old nickname, but the rest of me knew better. That wasn’t who she was anymore.
She cleared her throat, and I snapped my eyes up toher face. She motioned for me to turn around. I moved so fast I nearly slammed into the wall.
Soft laughter echoed behind me. “Men,” she muttered. Then, “You can turn back around.”
I did. Slowly. Her blond hair was wet and clinging to her forehead, giving her a fresh, almost vulnerable appearance. Her cheeks were still flushed from the shower, and her face was free of makeup. She hadn’t even put on a bra.
She sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her phone, her lips twitching into a hesitant smile. “I posted it right before my shower. Right about now it should have…” Her face fell. “Fifteen views?”
I stepped farther into the room, joining her on the bed. I looked down at the phone. She’d posted the video to her own social media account, which, to my surprise, had over two hundred thousand followers.
“Wow, you…” I trailed off, noticing her frustrated expression. “How did you get that many followers?”
She rolled her eyes. “The normal way. Just posting. Usually because of my clients—when they let me video them learning my choreography.”
That wasn’t normal. Most people posted stuff the world didn’t care about. Years ago, my agent had wanted me to post more to social media, but gaining followers was like pulling teeth. I took her phone and scrolled through her videos. The most recent one featured Jameson Rhys in a practice room, working through Sydney’s steps.
Then, the videos changed. There were other dancers, most of whom I didn’t recognize. Some videos looked like they were filmed on the set of a movie.
Sydney snatched her phone back. “None of that matters.”
Didn’t matter? I turned to look at her, at the way her eyes darted away. This girl I’d known my entire life had accomplished so much. “How come Teddy didn’t tell me you worked on a movie?”
She shrugged, still not meeting my gaze. “There were only two, and for the first one, I was just the assistant choreographer. It’s… not important.”
I’d known Teddy missed her, that he hated how rarely she came home, but he hadn’t told me just how much she’d accomplished. Or why she thought it didn’t matter.
“I’m sorry the video isn’t getting attention.” She looked smaller, more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her. And I hated it.
“There’s still time,” I said.
She nodded.
