Page 16 of Facing Off
He’s a known playboy around the city, committed to the shortest flings his famous hockey-star lifestyle will allow. Obsessed with hooking up and moving on.
Me? I don’t do intimacy, period.
It goes back to the fact that I dislike most people. I don’t trust easily, and I don’t let people in. Also, let’s be honest, I don’t have time for anything else. My dancing comes first.
I make my nails dig into my palms. Not that I need to justify anything to myself in my own head.
I get off the wall and square my shoulders.
“You should go back out there,” I tell Kavi. “And if it’s okay…I might sneak out? Not that I’m not really happy for you. You know, I am. It’s?—”
I suck at words, so how do I explain this properly? How outside this door, Kavi is going to walk into a life rich with accomplishments and milestones she’s passed.
Compared to that, I need to leave early to practice alone at a dance studio.
Standing in this shadowed pantry, I look down at my skin. How often do you see a brown woman in ballet? Barely at all, which means I have to work that much harder to be noticed.
That means I need to leave now and keep working towards making that happen.
Turns out I don’t need to say any of that to Kavi. She understands and hugs me. “Promise you won’t overwhelm yourself, okay? You know I worry.”
“I won’t,” I say, knowing I’m lying to my best friend. The only way to get what I want is to overwhelm myself. I have to eat, sleep, breathe ballet, even more than I already do.
Starting now.
Kavi goes back to her party, and I leave the pantry a few minutes later. On my way out the door, I can’t help but glance over my shoulder.
My brain melts.
Fuck.
I did not need to see that man dressed up in a black, close-fitted suit. A few strands of his blonde hair have fallen over his forehead. The length curls underneath his ears, styled yet nonchalant enough to be a little messy.
I hold my breath.
His crisp blue eyes are sweeping around, as if he really is looking for someone.
The back of my neck gets goosebumps.
Could it be me?
No.
Adrian has his reputation for a reason. Whatever he’s doing, it has nothing to do with me.
But then our eyes meet, and he stills entirely.
We keep looking at each other, and I feel this impact in the center of my chest. It grows and grows, as if I’m on the verge of losing my balance.
He’s not even touching me. He’sacross the room.
Unlike that night at Quinn’s when our hands touched over cards, and thatnothingbit of contact hit me like a lightning strike.
I ran.
I have the overwhelming urge to do the same thing now, and I don’t completely understand why.
My pulse kicks up, and Ihatethis feeling. The lack of control, of knowing exactly what comes next.
