Page 49 of Barre Fight
It was barely perceptible, the way his face fell, but she sawit. She’d been watching Justin Winters for a while now, and she knew what disappointment looked like on his face.
“I’m sorry,” she said. And she was. That kiss had been brain-melting. Her body might never recover from getting that close to him and having to pull away. But her head had stopped spinning enough to know that going back for more was unwise. She needed to stay focused. There was still a week of the tour left, and plenty of things could go wrong in that time if she wasn’t careful. Kissing Justin again—or doing more than that, she thought, with a hard swallow—would be a complete distraction. “I just don’t think we should do that again.”
He watched her for a long moment. She thought he was going to argue with her, and she straightened her spine, lining up her reasons and getting ready for the fight. But it didn’t come.
“Whatever you want,” he said quietly, still watching her closely. There was no fight in it, no anger, and for a moment she wanted there to be. But it was better this way. This morning had made things messy, but any more kissing, or conversation about kissing, would only make it messier.
“Okay,” she breathed out. Okay.Good decision. Smart decision. Wise, professional decision, she thought. She ignored the fact that her fingertips still hadn’t stopped tingling, or that now she could never unknow what his hard, lean body felt like pressed against hers.
Ivy, 10:01am: Are you still awake?
Ivy texted Em the moment the accompanist started playing the music for pliés. The walk from the hotel to the theater had been quiet and tense, the hugeness of that kiss hanging between themlike a physical curtain of heat, rippling and pulsing as they walked the six cold blocks downtown. She’d dropped him at the stage door and avoided his eyes, knowing that they were both remembering the embrace that had happened right there the night before. So much had happened in the last twelve hours, and the rave review in theTimeswas only the half of it.
The mood inside the theater was buoyant, and Peter had spent a few minutes before class congratulating them all on their performance, even reading a few excerpts of the paper’s praise aloud to the grinning dancers.So much for not paying attention to reviews, Ivy thought archly, as Peter paused for applause after each snippet.
Connie and Oliver had lit up her phone with congratulatory texts, too.ALL HAIL THE CONQUERING HEROINE, Oliver had texted, with half a dozen popping champagne emojis. After a few minutes of celebration, Peter called for silence and reminded them all that the bar for all their remaining performances was now set even higher, and he expected them all to meet it.
Em, 10:02am: Barely, what’s up?
Ivy, 10:02am: I did something bad.
Em, 10:02am: ??? Are you ok?
Ivy, 10:03am: I’m fine, I’m safe.
Em, 10:03am: Thank fuck
Ivy, 10:03: Sorry!
10:03 You should be. Scared me half to death. You know I can’t help you bury a body if you’re on the other side of the world
Em, 10:03 Wide awake now. What’s up?
Ivy paused, suddenly unsure what to tell Liv.I just had the most intense kiss of my entire life and immediately had to shut it down because it was a terrible idea? Thank god Alice had shown up and interrupted them. Who knew how much further they would have taken it otherwise? A parade of images flashed through Ivy’s mind, each filthier than the last, and she let out a shaky breath. On the stage, the company had moved on to pliés in second position, the same familiar sequence Ivy had followed for so many years. First, second, fourth, fifth, relevé, hold, then turn and repeat it all with the other hand on the barre.
Em, 10:05am …?
Em, 10:05am: Do not tell me something happened to my coat
Ivy chuckled.
Ivy, 10:05am: Your coat is fine. It’s been all over New York and it’s having a grand time.
Em, 10:05am: Good. So what did you do??
Ivy started typing, then erased everything she had. She tried again.I kissed someone and I think it was a terrible idea but I want to do it again.God, she really wanted to do it again. She erased that draft, too. If she said “someone,” Em would immediately ask who. And that part was pretty relevant information. She hadn’t kissed some random New Yorker, or even some other member of the company. She’d kissedJustin. The man who had promised less than a month ago that he’d never even speak to her. And he’d kissed her back. Then he’d come into her room like he wanted to keep doing it.
Em, 10:07am: Spit it out, babe!
Clearly Em had tired of watching the “typing” dots bounce up and down on her screen at 11 o’clock at night. Em didn’t need beauty sleep, but she still preferred to get plenty of it.
Ivy typed quickly, not stopping to edit or second guess herself, then screwed up her face until she could barely see the screen and hit send.
Ivy, 10:08am: I kissed Justin this morning
There was a long pause. No bouncing dots. Em was apparently too stunned—or too appalled—to even type. Ivy tried to distract herself by watching the ronds de jambe that were now happening on the stage, grateful Justin had chosen a spot at a barre at the back of the stage so she couldn’t watch him.
Em, 10:10am:
