Page 58 of Barre Fight
“Mmm. Not going to do that. So very worn out .” She sensed, rather than saw, the look of triumph that crossed his face at her words. “Hey, Justin?”
“Yes, Ivy?” His voice was tender, low and scratchy with fatigue, and the intimate sound crawled under her skin. Curled up and settled there, like a cat in a shaft of sunlight.
“Leave the door unlocked?”
The last thing she saw before sleep pulled her under was Justin disappearing across the threshold into his room, leaving the adjoining door ajar.
Chapter Fifteen
Justin was woken the next morning by a soft rapping on the adjoining door. Judging by the light sneaking in through his blinds, it was mid-morning already. His muscles ached pleasantly, the way they usually did the day after a performance, but this morning it was more pleasant than ache, a feeling that only increased when he remembered how he and Ivy had spent the evening.
Another knock on the door, which he’d left open a few inches the night before. He’d fallen asleep within seconds of climbing into bed, his exhausted body winning the fight against his spinning mind. But he’d fallen asleep knowing that even though they were in separate beds, in separate rooms, there were only a few centimeters separating him and Ivy.
“Are you awake?” she called softly through those few centimeters.
“Yeah, come in,” he said, sitting up against the headboard as the door swung open. She stood in the doorway fully clothed, a takeaway coffee tray in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other.
“Bagels and coffee?” sheoffered.
“You brought me breakfast in bed?”
“I brought you breakfast. Do you want to eat it in bed?”
“Maybe.” He smiled, and her eyebrows rose in question. “Were you planning to join me?” He looked at the two coffee cups in her hand.
“I’m dressed,” she objected, kicking one of her feet up so he could see her boot. It looked wet. He shrugged, and she grinned, then mimicked his shrug. “But it is really cold outside, and I should probably warm up.”
Which is how he ended up eating a bagel in his hotel bed, naked but for his boxers, while Ivy sipped her coffee next to him, fully clothed but for her boots. She had pulled her hair up into a messy bun and hadn’t put on any makeup yet, and her cheeks were still a little damp and pink from the cold outside. She looked sweet and unassuming, the way she probably did to many people who looked at a petite, blondish woman with big green eyes and saw nothing to be intimidated by. Nothing to catch them off guard or catch them out. Justin knew better, and he liked that knowledge. Held it close and cupped it in his hands like a warm cup of coffee on a cold morning.
For one long, lunatic moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to wake up with her in this city—in the same bed, not just the same adjoining room—and wait until she returned from the bagel shop, hair mussed and face bare, to climb back into bed so they could drink their coffee together. An insane thing to imagine, since they’d been on one real date, and he could barely stand this city.
As if on cue, someone outside honked their horn loud enough that Ivy startled and choked a little on her coffee.
“I don’t know how people live like this,” he shook his head. “How can you hear yourself think? How can you get a moment’s peace?”
“Libraries. Museums. Parks. I’m sure there are quiet places, if you know where to look.”
“I guess,” he said skeptically.
She might have been right, but New York still felt inescapably loud and chaotic. Sydney was more than enough city for him. And as for waking up with her every morning, that was foolish, too. They’d had fun last night—and had all but agreed to a repeat performance tonight—but it was a bad idea to hope for more. What happened in New York would likely stay in New York, along with the noise and the chaos and the bagels.
His phone dinged on the nightstand. He reached for it and saw Missy’s photo on the screen as though his thoughts had conjured her text. He’d texted the link to theTimesreview to her, and to his mum, along with a selfie of himself grinning and holding the paper copy, looking like some kind of overjoyed hostage. Missy had responded promptly with a series of all caps exclamations and quotes as she read it. His mother’swow, I’m so proud of u!had been accompanied by her usual string of random emojis. Envelope, apple, ghost, ghost, spaghetti. But he hadn’t heard from either of them in almost two days now.
“It’s home,” he said, swiping the phone open.
“Now? It’s past midnight there,” Ivy frowned.
Justin looked at the time on his screen and did the quick maths; she was right. Missy kept to a strict bedtime during the work week, only staying up past 10pm late every so often so she could come watch him perform a few times each season. If she was awake this late, something was off. And if she was texting him this late…
Hastily, he pulled up her message.
Missy, 10:37am: Just talked to my mum and there are a few fires near the foot of the mountains. Nothing serious so far but she and your mum are prepping their go bags just in case.
Justin breathed out sharply.
“Something wrong?” Ivy asked.
“Bushfires,” Justin said vaguely, rereading Missy’s words and thinking, his cozy morning sluggishness suddenly replaced by a prickling unease.
