Page 48 of Barre Fight
“Don’t! Care!” Alice yelled, but she stopped. They both knew Shaz would have a fit if she found out Alice hurt herself doing a goofy victory dance. “You ready to do it all again tonight?”
“Damn right. We’ve got an adoring New York public waiting for us.”
“We do, though. I ran into Peter in the lobby and he said tonight is sold out and the rest of the week is close to sold out, too.”
“Shit, that’s great.”
“I know! He looked absolutely chuffed, too. I thoughthewas going to start twerking.”
Justin let out a sigh of relief. Peter wasn’t angry anymore. This entire exercise—the interviews with Ivy, the gamble of convincing Peter to bring her with them, begging her to get onthat plane—it had all been worth it. The reviews were better than good, the company was getting its moment in the sunshine just like they all deserved, and his boss would be off his back. Donors and subscribers could make all the threats they wanted, but in this moment, none of that could touch him. Not here on the other side of the world, with his name in the paper and the taste of Ivy Page’s mouth still on his tongue.
Ivy. She was waiting for him on the other side of the door.
“Hey, I need to get ready for company class,” he said to Alice hurriedly. He held up the newspaper. “Can I keep this? I’ll buy you another one.”
“Please, I bought like five of them,” Alice scoffed. “Izzy demanded one for every room of the house.”
“So things are okay there?”
“Yeah,” she smiled sunnily. “She was just stressed because of some inventory that came in late, and one of her salespeople called in sick, so she had to sort it all out on her own. We’re fine.”
“Good,” he nodded. “I’ll see you in class?”
“Yeah. Oh, and Marcus and Heather say congrats. They read it before I did because apparently babies are nocturnal. Anyway, I’m going to go wake up Kat and Serena,” she said, pulling the door open.
“No twerking!” he called as she disappeared.
“No promises!” she called back, just before the door snapped shut. A second later, he heard the unmistakable sound of her banging on yet another door.
Justin looked back down at the newspaper in his hand, at the color photo of the two of them. Of his foot, stretched and pointed and captured in the perfect moment on the most famous ballet stage in the world. They’d done it, he thought, tossing the paper onto the unmade bed and looking at the closed adjoining door. He and Ivy had done it. As for whatelse they’d done this morning, and what more he wanted to do…
He hoped she didn’t regret it. But there was only one way to find out. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame some of his morning bedhead, then remembering that if his hair was a mess, it wasn’t from bed. It was from Ivy’s fingers raking through it, making him feel a deep, clawing hunger that had been left unsated when Alice arrived.Only one way to find out, he thought, as he crossed the room and knocked on the door.
“It’s open,” Ivy called. It came out hoarse and panicked and the second she said it, she wished she could grab the words out of the air and shove them back into her mouth. She sat cross legged on the edge of the bed and stared at the door, realizing that she only had a few seconds to figure out what she was going to say before Justin walked in.
She looked down at her hands on the bedspread. Hands that, mere minutes ago, had felt Justin’s corded muscles strain and shift under his warm, smooth skin as she slid her tongue against his. They looked the same as they always did. Ten fingers, nails painted with a clear gloss, a stack of gold rings on one finger. But her fingertips were tingling, like they’d been overloaded by the sensation of Justin’s skin, his silky hair, and the realization that no matter how spectacular he looked shirtless on stage or sweating in class, none of it had prepared her for touching him. Kissing him.
She’d kissed Justin. Hard. She wanted to do it again. She’d wanted to do it last night, before they’d been interrupted. Before she’d had a chance to assemble a mental list of all the reasons it was a terrible idea, not least of which was that she was supposed to be making sure he didn’t get into any trouble in New York.Kissing a colleague and letting her run her overwhelmed hands all over your body was definitely trouble. To say nothing of the fact that just a few weeks ago, he’d barely been able to speak to her without snarling, and—and her seconds were up. Justin walked in, holding a newspaper in his hand.
“Front page of the Arts section,” he grinned, tossing the paper down onto the bed next to her. Front page, with a huge photo of him and Alice, showing one of the best moments in the whole pas de deux, when Justin raised his eyes to the rafters like he was sunning his face in the stage lights and extended one leg, one perfect foot. How could she have ever called them freakish? They were the stuff of ballet dreams—of her long-ago ballet dreams.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Relieved,” he admitted. “Kind of feels like anything short of this would have been a failure, after… after everything I’ve put Peter and the company through.”
She nodded. She felt the same way. After walking away from journalism, anything but a huge success here would have felt like she’d given up on that dream for nothing.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“I’m relieved, too. It’s nice to win one for a change.”
“And how do you… feel?” he asked, waving a hand behind him, in the direction of the adjoining door.
“About the fact that we just made out in our pajamas in a hotel room in New York City?” she asked, trying to make it come out light and joking, but not quite succeeding. It had been such a good kiss. And it wassucha bad idea.
“Yeah, something like that,” he said, sounding like he was also going for light, but watching her intently.
“I think you have a company class to get to, which means I have a company class to get to.”
