Page 84 of Facing Off
Hughes’ eyes flash even brighter with challenge. His legs graze my knees. Gently, my hand is captured and brought forward. Slow-motion crossing a threshold, towards…where? The waistband of his jeans?! Along the way, I choke back a gasp.
He stops the forward trajectory. Our fingers interlace instead, hanging in the air.
I glance up furtively.
His neck is corded in some strange, quiet agony. We’re both holding our breath. I can’t speak, but my pulse is a drum as I wait to see what he does next.
Finally, Hughes closes the distance.
I blink rapidly, my expression going slack as his mouth comes down. A soft kiss is placed against my knuckles.
My heart rate spikes. “Why?” I whisper.
“I want you to know that you can trust me with your laughter. I won’t tell anyone about it.”
I’m incoherent as he slowly kisses each knuckle separately.
“Nothing changes how strong and intimidating and capable you are, Sonya. It’s so inspiring to see you go after your dreams like you do. You are incredible and lovely, and all I ask is that you laugh and rest. Can you trust me enough to let go?—“
Trust?
That’s a very dangerous word.
Trusting means vulnerability, and being vulnerable means it’s going to hurt a million times more if you’re wronged than if you weren’t ever vulnerable in the first place.
I tug my hand so it lifts from his mouth. Why did he have to call me capable, inspiring, and ask me to trust him? The ground underneath my feet might shift if I believe all those words. He’s not being literal, is he? I’m not the first person he’s said that to, right? He must have an arsenal of lines he uses on women.
The thought of all that suddenly—I can’t stand it. I hate it. I hate itsomuch. This level of jealousy feels like a sinkhole I didn’t see coming that knocks me off my feet. “You sound like someone who wants to get laid,” I impulsively bite out.
I’m such an asshole. I feel like garbage. But I’ve said what I said.
Hughes steps back. Far enough that we’re not touching anymore. He chuckles, a hollow sound that makes me feel like absolute crap. “Is that what you think? Okay. Sure. We’ll go with that.”
My chin dips and I wince. “Wait. Hughes?”
He pauses and stares at me.
“I did…laugh. So…you won.”
“I…won?”
“…yeah.”
For one painful moment, I’m really afraid. He’s finallyrealized my personality sucks. It’s too unpalatable. That shouldn’t surprise me. People don’t stick around. Nothing lasts. I’m always alone at the end of the day. This will be a good reminder of that.
Hughes looks at me, and—he starts whooping loudly.
Relief swamps me. Hughes can forgive and not hold grudges. He’s also the kind of person to save a person from the hospital, to bring them to a rage room because that’s what they need, and pay for a bunch of experts to figure out what’s wrong.
Maybe that’s why when he says, “Okay, now you have to listen to me,” I quickly agree. “Fine.”
Until he clarifies. “Take a break for three whole days.”
I stand up. “Sorry, what?”
“Team Nutcracker recommended three days.”
“No—I can’t. Principal dancers have to be the best. If I lose even a bit of my technique, they won’t pick me.”
