Page 74 of Barre Fight
She rolled over, realizing as she did that she hadn’t even made it under the covers before passing out, and she was still in the clothes she’d worn on the plane. Yawning, she opened her eyes, and froze. Justin was lying on top of the covers next to her, back propped against the headboard, his bare feet crossed at the ankles and his phone held loosely in his hand. His hair was damp and tousled, as though he’d rubbed the towel over his head when he got out of the shower and not bothered to go digging in his bag for a comb to marshal it into order.
He was also looking directly at her. No, watching her. Had he been watching her sleep? She put a hand to her mouth quickly. Had she been drooling? It had definitely felt like one of those deep, drooly sleeps.
“Hi,” she croaked, then cleared her throat and tried again. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said, a soft smile warming his gaze and wrapping around the word.
“Any news?” She gestured at his phone.
“Everyone’s safe and accounted for. A few more of them showed up at the evacuation centre just as Mum and Shane and Steen were leaving with Missy.”
“Thank god,” Ivy sighed.
“Yeah. Still no word on the fire. They might have it under control by now, but it could also be worse if the winds shifted again. Still no answers about when they can go back. But they got to our place about an hour ago and Missy’s getting them settled in.”
Ivy looked up at him, eyes wide. “Why are you still here? Don’t you want to go see them?”
Justin gave her another one of those soft, warm smiles. “I do. I will. But I didn’t want to leave while you were sleeping. And I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful.”
Ivy scoffed. “You mean I looked so zonked?” But hopefully not drooly. Please, god.
Justin chuckled. “Okay, yeah. Zonked. But in a peaceful sort of way.”
Ivy swiped her fingers around her mouth again, just to be sure.
“Anyway, I do want to head over there now.”
“Of course. I’ll get you a spare key so you can let yourself in whenever you get back.”
“Sounds good. But first, could I…” He trailed off, and she looked up at him questioningly. “Could I, um, hold you?”
His voice was low and hopeful, and Ivy’s stomach swooped at the sound of it. He looked at her, his eyes a dark mottled blue in the light that had snuck in around the blinds. Puffyand a little bloodshot, but beautiful. And full of a vulnerability she wouldn’t have imagined possible all those weeks ago when all she knew about him was that he had perfect, eloquent feet and a penchant for expressing himself with his fists. They’d never simply held each other in New York, not without having sex first. As far as Ivy could remember, no man had ever wanted this—and only this—from her.
She nodded, and he shifted down the bed until he was lying next to her. Silently, she started to turn her body, planning to give him her back so he could spoon her. But he put his hand on her ribcage to stop her from turning over, and instead, pulled himself towards her until her feet met his. Then he ran his hand up the centre of her back and pulled her closer, wrapping his forearm around her shoulders until her head rested against his chest. She could feel his heart thudding beneath her ear and the muscles of his chest expanding with his breaths. She nestled in further still, and he answered the movement with a contented little huff, something between a hum and a sigh.
I want more ofthis, she thought, allowing her hand to drift to the middle of his back. She traced her fingers up and down the deep, muscular channel of his spine, slow and steady movements that, without her meaning to, fell into step with the rhythm of his pulse. They’d never danced together, not even at the cocktail party that final night in New York, when there’d been a band and a dance floor. And of course, Ivy was too far removed from her ballet training to imagine that attempting a pas de deux with him would be anything other than abject humiliation.
But no matter how long it had been since she last lined up at the barre, Ivy was a dancer first. And here, in her bed, with Justin’s head on her pillow, and hers on his chest, she had a steady beat to move to. So she moved, sliding her fingers over the fabric of his T-shirt. A small part of her wanted to slide her palmbeneath it and stroke his skin, but she knew that what he’d asked for wasn’t sexual. He made that hum-sigh sound again, adding something of a melody over the rhythm of his pulse. He’d sounded so vulnerable when he’d asked to hold her, and now she realized he hadn’t managed to ask out loud for what it was he truly wanted. His body gave him away, though. He’d wanted her to hold him.
She started awake to the sound of a phone ringing, and a second later felt Justin’s body jolt beneath her. Rolling away from him, she saw him fumbling for his phone and a second later the ringing stopped.
“Sorry,” he said groggily into the phone as soon as he answered it. “I’m coming right home. Yeah, now. I fell asleep.”
She looked up at him and gave him an apologetic little smile, but she wasn’t all that sorry. They’d fallen asleep holding each other, and she knew—a knowledge that was already carved into her, like the lyrics of her favourite showtunes—that it wouldn’t be the last time.
Chapter Twenty-One
Justin heard his family before he saw them, before he even opened the front door. The sound of their voices carried down the hall as he approached, and he didn’t bother to locate his keys in his overstuffed backpack before trying the door. It swung open, and the sound of Shane’s deep, rumbling laughter reached him from the living room. His mother was chuckling, too, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it was the kind of chuckle that threatened to tip into a snort if she didn’t get it under control. And once that happened, Shane would laugh even louder, and Steen would do her imitation of his mum’s snort, and it would be utter chaos.
Justin walked through the front door, pulling his suitcase behind him, a little dazed. The jetlag was hitting him hard. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep in Ivy’s bed, but the way she’d held him had been so soothing, so steady, that he’d barely noticed himself drifting off. They’d come to suddenly when Missy had called to ask if he’d gotten lost on the way home. But he’d been sleeping so deeply, so comfortably, with Ivy’s arm and the rest of her body wrapped around him, that half an hour later he was still groggy.
But even through the haze of his fatigue, he registered thathis family was laughing. Not only were they safe and here, they werelaughing.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, and his mum and Shane swiveled on the couch to look at him.
“Darling!” his mother called, reaching an arm out to wave him into the room. “Welcome home!” As though this were her place and he was the guest. As though today was a normal day and she was delighted to be hosting him. As though her home hadn’t just burned to the ground. He swallowed and shook his head slightly, trying to make sense of it all.
“Hi, Mum,” he said faintly. He hastened to the couch as she stood, holding her arms out to invite a hug. He pulled her in tightly and took in a deep breath, realizing as he clung to her that despite her text messages and Missy’s phone calls, a tiny part of him had refused to believe that she was safe until he could see her with his own eyes and hug her just like this.
